#and bringing back someone loved…wrong. It is also about being a prodigy who falls from grace | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shyestofhearts · 3 years

Note

Hi Shy~

Sooo, I have this headcanon that Damian is like this wonderful child prodigy genius. Like, super smart. So smart, that when Bruce tries to enroll him in Gotham academy, they tell him that Damian has tests for college level. Which, Damian just rolls his eyes at, because duh. After discussing it with professionals and yada yada, Damian gets enrolled into college. He’s like, twelve-ish. He is STILL bored in class, and knows most of the information they are trying to teach. His advisor is so sweet and invested into Damian though. And observant. After noticing Damian lack of enthusiasm, he asks Damian what the problem. Nothing interests him, none of his classes.this advisor is an old timer, in my opinion, and has seen so many kids pushed to do things they never wanted to do, and decides he can’t let that happen with Damian. So the Advisor pulls out every department, every major, and goes through it with Damian. After a few hours, because it takes a while to convince Damian that it is alright to do anything he wants, Damian has his majors narrowed down to a few things. Art and pre-med. Damian’s advisor suggests he visit a few of the clubs on campus to really get a feel of what he wants. Thing is, even after going to the students’ art club gallery and one of the pre-med club meetings, neither really speak to him. It’s a Saturday night, and he’s alone on campus. Damian is about to call Alfred, when a student from Damian’s organic chemistry class spots him.

“Damian!” Jace, a slightly round student with soft curly hair smiles at Damian. “Are you here for the show?”

“Show?” Damian scowls?

“Yeah, the fashion show. This year’s theme is sustainability,” Jace smiles. They one of the few people who never ogled at Damian for being a Wayne or looked down on him for his age. They are just genuinely nice, and Damian knows that.

“I didn’t know we had a fashion show,”

“Really? I swear I thought I mentioned it,” Jace says, surprised. Jace may have mentioned that, but Damian probably was zoned out during the time.“Tickets are $15, if you wanna come”

“Oh,” Damian frowns, “I used all the money I brought with me for the art gallery and lunch earlier,” He says, cursing internally for not bringing more cash with him.

“If you want to go, I’ll cover you.” Jace smiles, “Think of it as payment for help on our last exam” Damian would usually say no, but Jace is just so nice,

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Besides,” Jace smiles, turning towards the stadium, “I have a feeling you’re going to love it”

And Damian did love it. The designs were amazing, some more haute couture while others were casual, and each designer explained how their designs involved sustainability. Some were statement pieces, designed to address political issues, others were just to demonstrate that sustainability could still be cute, and while others highlighted affordability and sustainability.

Damian wanted to do this. Running through his head were endless possibilities. Perhaps he can enlist the help of Poison Ivy to create a vegan leather that was also bullet resistant, or…

The next Monday he is waiting for his advisor at 7 in the morning, because he spent the rest of the weekend coming up with ideas, sketches, creating a portfolio, and practicing hypothetical arguments as to why Damian should go into fashion. At 7:15 his advisor sees him, and can tell by the light in Damian’s eyes, determination on his face, and the way he’s clutching his sketchbook, Damian has found it.

“I want into the fashion program!” Damian all but bursts, unconsciously on his tippy toes in excitement.

“Okay,” His advisor smiles, ushering him into his office. “Let’s make it happen”

“Just like that?” Damian asks, eyes wide, voice surprisingly small. His advisor smiles at him kindly.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen.”

It takes a bit before Damian can actually get into the program, he has to work on some prerequisites, and also create a better portfolio with samples, but Damian is determined. By the end of the school year, he has been accepted.

Damian doesn’t tell his family, not in the beginning. He actually doesn’t want to tell his friends either, unsure of how they’d react. He is still insecure, and just entering his teen years. He worries about what any or everyone will say. Eventually, though he tells Jon and Colin, swearing them to secrecy. They both are excited for him, asking if he’d design their costumes for them. Damian blushes but says,

“Tt, like you can afford me”

He eventually tells Alfred as well, because he needs help learning how to use a sewing machine, and fast. Sure, he can stitch someone up flawlessly, but sewing machines weren’t part of the League’s lessons. Alfred is in charge of the one at the Manor, so it only makes sense to ask him. Even so, Damian is reluctant. When he does finally ask, he nearly gives himself an attack, worrying about being scolded for not using his “full potential”. Alfred simply squeezes Damian’s shoulder, and agrees with a kind smile. The young Master finally seemed passionate about something besides vigilante work and violence. Alfred would do everything in his power to foster that.

“Just,” Damian looks down, hands clenching into fists at his side, “Do not tell the others. I would prefer this between us,” He looks at Alfred, unsuccessfully trying to hide the vulnerability in his wide emerald eyes. Alfred agrees, for now. On the conditions that Damian would have to tell his father and siblings himself, and not to far in the future either.

Damian impresses everyone with his designs, and people learn he is actually quite adorable when he’s doing something he enjoys. His classmates and professors encourage him to join the fall fashion show, which is covering “multiculturalism and the media”. Damian hesitantly agrees, though he has been making designs since the theme was announced. His room is full of crumbled paper on his floor, designs he deigned not good enough. Many of his designs are heavily influenced by his Arab culture, but he also has some Chinese-influenced designs as well. His statement piece is the hardest to get right. It involves a hijab and beautiful colors, but he just can’t get the right patter. Ripping another page and crumpling it,Damian is too concentrated to realized Tim and Dick have been creeping into his room.

“What’s this Dames?” Dick asks, startling Damian, as he looks at some of the rejected designs. Panic makes Damian defensive as he yells at them to get out, frustration fueling the dread of his family seeing such unsatisfactory work. Tim flinches, shocked by the emotion coming off of Damian, rushing out with a few crumpled papers he snuck from the floor. Damian is literally trying to shove Dick out the door. Dick turns around, because he can hear the panic in his little brother’s voice. In his Robin’ voice. “Damian,” he says softly, easily deflecting Damian. “It’s okay,” he says, wrapping his arms around Damian, reversing the situation. “What’s wrong, why are you reacting like this?” After a few minutes of struggling, Damian gives up. Slowly,he explains the situation, how he’s in the fashion program and the fashion show coming up, all the pressure to do well, the frustration of not having his statement piece yet. Dick listens, his hold turning into a hug. “From what I’ve seen,” Dick says softly, “these are all wonderful designs,Dami. Whatever you end up making will look amazing, if they look anything like your sketches.”

“It’s not enough!” Damian complains, eyes burning, but he refuses to cry. “You don’t understand!” He says, frustrated.

“Then explain it to me, why is this so important?”

“Because it is about me!” Damian’s voice cracks ask he turns away rosiness his eyes harshly. “When I was introduced to the public, as “Bruce Wayne’s biological son”, do you not remember how the newspapers reacted? They didn’t know me, or my mother, but because—because of my skin, the country I was born, I was mistrusted. Scorned. Yeah, maybe I’ve killed people, but that isn’t because of my skin color or my culture or the language I speak. I have this opportunity to speak out against that!” Damian turns to look at Dick, “I’ve tried to become better, to do better. It’s hard and unfair that none of that matters, because guests are invited to galas hosted in the house that I live in, only to make snide racist comments about “nukes” or the desert or bombs whenever Father and you all aren’t around me. How can I be better, when I’m not given the chance because people can’t see past my skin?” Dick wraps Damian into a tight hug, as wetness drips down Damian’s cheeks. “I’ve been here nearly four years—and it still happens” Damian whispers.

“Why didn’t you say anything Dami?”

“What could I say?” Damian whispers back,

“Bruce—”

“Invites these people because they are important to Wayne Enterprise.” He scoffs. “What could you do, especially if I have no proof?”

“Believe me, Damian,” Dick says seriously, pulling back to look into Damian’s eyes. “Bruce won’t invite anyone who’s racist or derogatory towards his children, back to a gala, let alone do business with him again.” He smiles a hard somewhat vicious smile. “I know because when I was first adopted, he did that for me” Damian’s eyes widen. “And if Bruce can’t defend you, you can bet your brothers will,” Damian looks unsure, but nods. “But I get it now. You’ve always used art to vent and express yourself. This design is something that would allow you to address what the media has done to and said about you.”

“It’s been,” Damian shrugs, looking down, “therapeutic. In a way I never imagined it would be.”

“Well, I think, whatever you end up designing will be amazing,” Dick smiles, and Damian looks up at the sincerity, giving his own smile smile in response. “And I expect an invitation to the fashion show!” He chuckles, causing Damian to blush. “And I bet the whole family would want to come as well,” Damian blushes, looking away once more.

“Tickets are $15 each, and available online,” Damian replies, making Dick belly laugh. “You can invite the others, if you’d like” Damian mumbles.

“Hmm,how ‘bout I invite the siblings while you invite your dad,” Damian grumbles, but agrees. “Great! Now, take a break. One night not designing won’t hurt you.” Dick says, wrapping his arm around Damian’s shoulder. ‘Might do you some good, in fact.”

Things get better after that, because after his talk with Dick, Damian gets an idea for his design. Ziba, a Persian student Damian met in his Literature class, agreed to be his model for his statement piece. She wore her hijab proudly, a solid black color, which helped with the down-to-business look the rest of the outfit screamed. Ziba’s makeup was beautiful, as Damian was putting the last touches on her. They both were quiet, nervous excitement pulsing through them both. Ziba had on white trousers that flared out a bit, to give an almost flowy feel, with black basic vegan leather square pointed toe mule flat accented by a silver buckle. Damian had made the top a cross between a tunic, a blazer, and a cape. It is white, and goes over a plain solid black turtleneck. Printed on both the buttoned blazer tunic top and the trousers are past racist articles written about Damian. In red graffiti styled letters sprayed across the news paper articles are phrases like “Lies” “Warped Perception” “Western POV” “Racist” “I was only 10”. The red paint matches the red lipstick Ziba is wearing.

Damian was nervous with his family in the audience, everyone including Alfred was there. Apparently Superman and Superboy were in attendance too, as civilians of course. Colin was there too. Damian had told his father about the fashion show, and was surprised to see how supportive he was about it. Of course that may have been the shock, as Damian had told him that morning before leaving for school. Bruce blinked, stood up and hugged Damian, before saying he couldn’t wait for the show.

Damian’s set is the last, ask the show is in alphabetical order according to last names. When it’s his turn, all of his model’s line up, and Damian is running around making sure everything is perfect. He hears the speaker introduce his collection, inviting Damian to join him on stage. Damian rushes out, brown cheeks turn red. Together they introduce all seven outfits of the collection one by one, as Damian describes his designs, the material, and the inspiration behind each one. When it get’s to Ziba’s turn, Damian’s nearly choked up. He manages to discuss this piece and it’s significance to him. At the end, Damian received a standing ovation from nearly everyone. Looking over at his family, he has to duck from hiding his flamed cheeks. All his siblings were cheering for him, while Bruce and Dick dab their eyes. Alfred has a proud look on his face, and Damian couldn’t have been happier.

He ends up getting second place, but also his own work room at the Manor. Damian begins selling his work after getting it patented (Tim demanded it), and is surprised when a number of orders are for the galas around Gotham. Dick told Bruce and the others about all the things Damian has been hearing at Galas, and they are justifiably angry. Duke begins chants of “Eat the Rich” every time he hears someone says something problematic about Damian, and that because Tim’s signal on who to take down next.

Damian’s designs become more widely popular as his family starts wearing them, as they love talking about it and how he uses sustainable methods and materials. This earns him big named clients, who start wearing Damian’s designs on the Red Carpet and premiers . Damian also likes to do work for charity, often donating dresses to high schoolers who cannot afford prom dresses or making clothes out of extra material to donate to shelters so people have clothes for job interviews and such.

(He also makes his pets clothes when he’s bored, so it’s normal to see Titus wearing a doggy hoodie with slits in it for his ears)

ANYWAYS, this is my headcanon lol

What do think about it?

—🧵🪡

Headcanon?? Bestie this a whole ass au!

As for my thoughts-

💳 💥💥 💳 💥💥💥 💳 💥💥💥💥

#shy's asks #sewing anon #anon #damian wayne #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #ANON PLEASE #ANON I LOVE THIS??#ANON IS A GENIUS #ITS LIKE 3AM AND IM BARELY COHERENT #BUT NOW I CANT STOP THINKING OF THIS AU #Anon I hope both sides of your pillow are cool tonight #I hope your blanket is softer that a cloud #long post

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nightingaelic · 3 years

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POODLES IN THE WASTELAND

i jest I jest

But 👀

What about pets? Either ones companions would have or a very uncommon one that someone wouldn’t think was a good pet, BUT IS. Deathclaws you can ride like a pony, mole rats that want belly rubs, cazadore’s as cattier pigeons! What are your thoughts?

Or like, Danse or Piper or Fawkes with something hilarious Idek ignore me

Oooookay, here’s my comprehensive list of companions - ALL companions, across Fallouts 3, 4, New Vegas and 76 - and their (headcanon) choices in wasteland pets. I’ll give a little explanation for each - particularly as many of these companions are transients and don’t have the luxury of owning a home to keep pets at. Also, I feel like most of the companions, while they might not necessarily like pets, would be somewhat fond or at least respectful of the pets of the Lone Wanderer/Courier/Sole Survivor/Vault Dweller, like Dogmeat and Rex.

Bighorners

Lily Bowen: Everyone’s favorite super mutant grandma is already an experienced shepherdess in Jacobstown, and she’s more than willing to tear some night stalkers apart to keep her herd safe. If that’s not love beyond the norm for wasteland livestock, I don’t know what is. She’s probably given all of her bighorners names after the characters in the television reruns she used to watch on holotape in Vault 17, like Grace and Audrey and Lucille.

Brahmin

Raul Tejada: Actually spent a decent part of his pre-war life living on a ranch, so he knows that most brahmin don’t deserve being labeled “irritable” just because people don’t know how to read their body language. I think he’d follow wild brahmin herds around a bit on a whim and keep them from coming to any harm, especially the little ones. He gives them names like the cattle he grew up with, Corazon and Gordo and Blanca.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Doesn’t truck with the wild herds, but she knows that part of the success of a caravan lies with how well they treat their pack animals. All of her caravan’s brahmin have names - Penny, Magic and Sprinkles - and she’s careful to pair them up with drivers who are patient and work well with their various personalities.

Cats

Butch DeLoria: While Butch ultimately decided to leave Vault 101 behind, I don’t think he would ever truly lose his fear of radroaches after what they did to his mom. Having a little friend to warm his bunk in Rivet City and pounce on intruders would probably set his mind at ease, maybe a black tomcat with one ear named Pepper. He might even gift his mom a kitten when he next comes to visit.

Star Paladin Cross: I don’t think Cross much sees the use of an animal that doesn’t contribute to the community it lives in, like most of the Brotherhood of Steel. Cats, however, are excellent at pest control, even if the rats are bigger nowadays. I think she’d give the resident cats at the Citadel some pets in passing, and she’d smile when she has to extract playful kittens from inside her power armor frame. She’s especially fond of the cat colony’s matriarch, a scarred old tabby named Gemma.

Curie: Upon her transition into a synth body, Curie is overjoyed with most animals and their new willingness to approach her for attention. She especially loves cats because she can pick them up and better feel their fur and purring. Her favorite cat is an orange stray in Diamond City that she calls Claude.

Piper Wright: A companion for Nat when she’s out adventuring, an unbiased friend to bounce the latest opinion piece off of before going to print, and a lap-warmer for when you’re typing up the latest article about the exploits of the Minutemen - what’s not to like? The Wright family cat is a slippery, elegant calico named Sugar Bomb.

Preston Garvey: While the Minutemen forts and settlements definitely lean more toward keeping dogs around for security purposes, I think Preston likes his pets quieter and less likely to bowl you over in excitement. The one most likely to sleep with him in his bunk at Sanctuary is a grumpy gray gentleman named Anchovy.

Deathclaws

Veronica Santangelo: If anyone is crazy enough to swipe a deathclaw egg from a nest and try to hatch, rear and train a personal killing machine named Izzy, it’s Veronica. This will probably just alienate her from her Brotherhood chapter even more, but I’m sure she would take special care to make sure that her usual Mojave Wasteland haunts take a peek through a scope to see if the approaching deathclaw has a human on its back before taking a shot.

Dogs

Clover: I don’t think Clover gets out beyond Paradise Falls much, so the only animals she’s used to are the dogs the raiders bring around when passing through. She probably has favorites among the usual visitors and enjoys tossing them bits of meat when she’s allowed to get away from Eulogy and Crimson. If liberated, she’d probably get at least three of her own dogs to watch over her while she sleeps: One small dog to carry with her, a Pekingese or Pomeranian descendant named Coco, and two large dogs to follow through on intimidation and protection, a mastiff named Rock and a Doberman descendant named Roll.

Jericho: Jericho doesn’t deserve a dog but he’d probably have one around anyway to sniff out caps caches and hidden loot after he’s shot everyone in the vicinity. Some slinky beagle mix named Dewey, probably.

Fawkes: I don’t think Fawkes would be picky at all about what kind of dog he’d have. He strikes me as the type who would adopt any half-friendly mutt he ran across. I do think he would have a bit of a soft spot for friendlier mutant hounds, though, and maybe view their mutated circumstances as similar to his own. He’d also be absolutely amazing at playing fetch. Just imagine how far he could lob a stick or ball. All of his dogs would have literary names too, like Byron and Agatha and Edgar.

Craig Boone: Though he’s a bit of a prodigy at sniping, Boone knows his limitations when it comes to spotting hidden enemies on the horizon. I can see him having a hound dog at his side to find the more elusive ones and help him get rid of them faster. Maybe a bloodhound mutt named Bravo.

Cait: Doesn’t like people, but she adores dogs. Having had the life where she’s been abused, exploited and forced into slavery, she’s keenly aware that those like the ones who took advantage of her treat dogs much the same. She’s very protective of any dog she encounters and is very likely to punch you in the face if you so much as look at one wrong. She’d probably name any pup she adopted Lucky.

Hancock: Honestly, he’s just a fan of any animal that is happy to hang out with you whether you’re drunk, high, fighting raiders or patrolling downtown Boston. The Goodneighbor strays know him as the guy who always has mirelurk jerky in his pockets. His favorite is a rough-and-tumble, black-and-white spotted cattle dog descendant that he cheekily calls King George.

Robert MacCready: He’s not quick to trust dogs, but once he’s sure they’re not a threat, they’re one of the few critters around which he’ll relax completely. He’s still a little wary of them around Duncan, but any dog that’s a part of his family is more or less his son’s permanent babysitter.

Nick Valentine: Dogmeat is also basically his dog. The two have a history of working cases together, with Dogmeat just turning up whenever a trail goes cold and leading Nick to the evidence he needs to reopen his investigation. Nick doesn’t know how or why Dogmeat does it, but he’s not about to ruin a good thing.

Strong: I don’t think he would turn down a ferocious mutant hound as a friend. He’d probably feed it mole rats and call it something like Killer.

Foxes

Beckett: This former raider has a love-hate relationship with a fox that keeps going through his trash. He affectionately calls him Lil’ Bastard.

Sofia Daguerre: Having crashed back to an earth she doesn’t recognize, I think Sofia would be tickled that the foxes of Appalachia have basically stayed the same despite the bombs. I can see her leaving dinner scraps out on her porch for one that she sometimes spots in the foliage, and slowly coaxing the critter to come into the light. She names her Scarlett once she finally convinces her to eat out of her hand.

Mega sloths

Settler forager: I would not be at all surprised if this man ran into a mega sloth in the Mire and decided to try befriending it. The creature, probably surprised at this old guy’s nerve, decided to accept the handful of leaves he offered and grew slowly more fond of the guy’s persistence. It doesn’t know its name is Fergus but it does know that if a human is wearing overalls, it’s probably not a threat.

Mole rats

Deacon: Alright, hear me out. Deacon has a fondness for underdogs, and mole rats are about as underdog as they come. I think Deacon thinks these little guys are cute despite their wrinkles and buck teeth, and I think he sees the value in having a tunneling pet that likes to collect shiny things. One of his deep cover hideouts is in an old tunnel system in the northern Commonwealth, where he hangs out with a young mole rat named Henry.

Owls

Raider punk: This radio operator got wind of an abandoned nest of owlets in Appalachia early on in his career and, being the nearest to the report, decided to rescue the little guys. Now he has three owls that occasionally drop in at his camp to hoot and accept handouts: Nona, Decima and Morta. While he’s still fond of them, he’s usually disappointed that they aren’t the Mothman coming to visit.

Rad chickens

Yasmin Chowdhury: Ever the opportunistic cook, she picked up the practice of raising chickens from the settlers at Foundation and has four hens of her own: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. The “ladies,” as she refers to them, give her a constant stream of eggs for omelets.

Ravens

Settler wanderer: This gal has an affinity with birds, who are always on the move like her. She admires their ability to be untethered and let the wind take them far and wide. Nevertheless, she likes to scatter corn when they come close to her on the road, and formed a sort of friendship with a particularly handsome specimen that she calls Tornado.

Wolves

Old Longfellow: This guy is the epitome of the meme about dads not wanting pets and then instantly falling in love with whatever animal enters their life. He probably found an injured wolf pup in his travels around the island and took pity on it, nursing it back to health in his cabin. It’s still got a bit of a twisted paw, but follows him around and listens like any other dog and answers to the name Lamoine.

Yao guai

Porter Gage: I bet this guy adopted an orphaned bear cub and raised it by hand. Now it’s so big that even if Gage thinks he’s an easy target for other raiders due to his age, he’s much less likely to get singled out than he thinks because he has a yao guai following him around like a puppy. The bear’s name is Fuzzy Wuzzy. It has no hair.

No pets, thanks

Charon: Too likely to accidentally wind up in the line of fire.

Sergeant RL-3: Too easily corrupted by Communist influences.

Arcade Gannon: Too much time spent getting in your way.

Codsworth: Too likely to make messes.

Paladin Danse: Too many wasted resources.

X6-88: Too much of a liability.

Ada: Too easy to lose when on the move.

Solomon Hardy: Too unsanitary.

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honey-hippie-harper · 3 years

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Infrangible

AFGHSAGHJS THIS IS SO LATE IS NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE LMAO

In my defense, I stopped being a person long ago and now, in all the ways except physical, I happen to be a potato. BUT ANYWAY :’) This is for the Renegades Ship Week hosted by @greasicookies <3 (Thanks again!), for day 5, which is Maxpie. The prompt is “secrets”! <3

I had a tough time writing this because I’m going through a lot of stuff rn :’) still, I hope you can enjoy it x’ddd.

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @the-wee-woo-rita and afsghagshja @all-weather-is-bad (because this is a very...me fic lol and I think you’re already used to my sad attempt at humor haahahaah i’M SORRY AGSHJAKL) AND @lackadae because agshjs I made a reference to one of your drawings, hon :’) (I promise once again, to catch up with your content once I feel better afsghjak).

And that’s it. I hope you like it <3

When Max turned nine, he reached the conclusion that everybody forgot their early years at some point. Before, Adrian had already explained to him that wasn’t quite true, because he misunderstood Max’s statement and thought he was feeling bad about himself for not being able to recall certain things. He told him that, unlike what he thought –which was false because that’s not what Max meant- people usually couldn’t store those memories from when they were younger than three.

“Some people do.” He said. “But it’s normal if you don’t remember anything from when you were…I don’t know. Two.”

“Do you remember anything from when you were two?” Max asked him.

From the other side of the glass, Adrian scrunched up his nose. And then, obviously, he saw himself in the need to adjust his glasses.

“I’m not quite sure whether I was two or not. But I do know I was younger than five.” He started. “There was a small canal on the way to the apartment. When it rained, it would grow a lot. It didn’t have big torrents or anything, but it did grow a lot. The water usually went higher than my ankles. But the thing was…that every time ��it grew, it became infested with turtles.”

He paused for a second.

“I really liked turtles.” He continued, shrugging. “My mother used to let me walk down to the water, as long as she was right behind me, obviously; one day, when we were coming back from the city, she stopped to attend a call. I got too impatient and went down alone when she wasn’t looking. The next thing I remember is that, just when I was getting up after catching a turtle, I felt her tugging me by the back of my shirt. The turtle fell on its shell.”

At that point, Max realized he had been staring at how he kept on fidgeting with his pen instead of looking him in the eye, but he continued doing so, because he didn’t like it when Adrian’s voice turned that serious.

“…She had never screamed at me like that.” He said, as if he were talking to himself and then, to erase the tension, he tried to scoff. “I don’t remember what she said, but I remember that she said it so loud I told her she was scaring the turtle. Then I started crying. Like, a lot. I think she was terrified too.”

In the end, everything turned too quiet for his liking, and Max did something his dad had advised him to do for times like these, when he just didn’t know what came next: Improvise.

“I didn’t know you liked turtles.”

“…Well, I did. I really liked turtles when I was younger.”

Max had seen a couple of turtles in his life, but not as many as Adrian had seen, he supposed, because Max had never stepped outside, except when he was a baby.

Which was exactly the point.

He didn’t have memories from when he was a baby, or a toddler. Most of the people who had come to talk to him had said they remembered events that were either too sad (like Adrian) or meaningful in their lives. Max didn’t have anything like that. In fact, his first –very blurry- memory was standing on the edge of the quarantine, with his hands pressed against the crystal, and then licking it.

According to his dads, he was between three and four (“He was three, Simon. What are you talking about?” “He was born in November.” “It wasn’t November yet.” “We had just celebrated his birthday. He was four.” “HE WASN’T FOUR, SIMON! HE WAS THREE! THREE! We were celebrating that his quarantine had just been built!” “IT WAS THE SAME EVENT, HUGH!”) and Aunt Tamaya, plus the both of them, were in the hallway. For some reason, the fact that his eyes were so huge (they were still big. But they were bigger when he was a baby) came off as odd to Tamaya. And the moment they made eye contact, he licked the glass.

Nobody knew why. Not even himself. The adults remembered it better than he did, of course, but none of them had ever been able to guess the reasoning behind it. They often expressed Max had been a very strange baby, mostly because of his lack of social skills. It’s not like he had chosen that, and it’s not like his fathers would’ve allowed it to happen if they had had any other option. But Max wasn’t willing to stand there and pretend that he knew what he was doing, either.

Most of the time, he didn’t.

He barely held any memories of the nurses that had ever been in charge of his care, but, for obvious reasons, he remembered Dad. It was always easier to remember the person who had taken care of you the most, he supposed. And Max knew, among a lot of things, that it wasn’t his other dad’s fault. Though, sometimes, he couldn’t help but blame him.

Again, he didn’t know why, but there were those days, when he needed he the most, where a voice inside of his head told him that, if Simon loved him enough, he would just sacrifice his powers to be with him. His powers weren’t that useful for combat anyway.

“Okay, but that’s kinda mean.” Adrian told him the first time he opened up about it, the night before he attended the Trials to choose the members of his patrolling team. “Pops might not have combat powers, but they’re as important as the rest of the members’. That’s why they work so well as a team, you know? Every power can be extremely helpful during a battle, as long as you know how to use it.”

Max wasn’t doing anything in particular that day. Nothing besides listening to Adrian and sitting on the floor , at least.

“But if every power is useful…” He said, tilting his head to the side. “…Why are you allowed to reject certain aspirants?”

Adrian frowned a little, not in the sense that he looked angry at Max. Rather, he was confused by the question and was trying to word the answer in a way that sounded rational.

“Because…” He gulped and clicked his tongue. “…Like I said…uhm…the Council is an extremely good team. They’ve been doing this for a while. Us, the patrolling leaders are…allowed to reject certain prodigies because we don’t have as much experience as them. And…we might not know how to use somebody’s powers, and that’s very dangerous. We don’t want people dying, do we?”

When he said that, something clicked inside Max’s brain, and he nodded in automatic. Obviously, a few years ago, a non-prodigy teacher had taught him how to read, and the moment Adrian notified him it was his year to be in the Trials, he managed to read the manual and the rules for the event, from a booklet and a pamphlet (respectively) he had asked his dad to bring for him. He didn’t get much new information, different from the one he heard on TV or the one presented in the posters. However, amongst the rules, there was a section that talked about banned powers, which contained only two categories:

-Complete telekinesis.

-Stardust modelling.

“Yeah.” Dad told him. He was bathing him in the quarantine’s bathroom (Of course. Where else?). “Stardust catchers…which….are able to model stardust, are extremely dangerous and there’s not much research about them. Nobody really knows how they work, and it would be pretty difficult for us to… handle a prodigy like that.”

“Like me.”

Dad had always had a pretty specific routine he had to follow when bathing him. If he missed or misplaced a step, he acted like would explode or something. Also, Max didn’t understand why, but ever since he started growing thicker hair, Dad became pretty strict on the fact they should take care of it so it would grow healthy. Hence why they had a full hair routine that they did in the bathtub. That day, the statement caught him so off-guard he grabbed the wrong bottle, and then, when he realized it, he was already pouring the dense liquid (that looked more like a paste to him) on Max’s head. Cursing under his breath, he placed his other hand in the middle so it would fall over his palm, washed Max’s head and started the routine all over again, before changing the subject:

“About complete telekinesis…there’s obviously a lot of research about that power. We know how to manage with that. But telekinetic prodigies are not …very accepted in our society. They’re pointed at…Frowned upon. In the worst of cases, other prodigies hunt them down and then kill them.”

In that moment, Max came to the conclusion that all that changing the subject thing had been in vain.

Because, from his part, the answer was exactly the same:

“Like me.”

And Dad didn’t like that, for he started scratching his scalp harder, accidentally.

“No. It’s nothing like you.” He said. “You’re not like that, Max. Society hates telekinesis because some evil dude decided to use his powers, his telekinesis, for awful reasons and stained prodigy’s names. You’re not like that. You’re not abusive, or selfish or evil. And I don’t want to hear you comparing yourself to him ever again. Understood?”

To this day, that was the most aggressive form of validation someone had ever given him, but Max took it anyway, because he trusted Dad, and if he had said something like that, then there had to be a clear reason behind it.

“Understood.” He whispered.

And he tried, he really tried, to believe it. But, like many other things, no matter how hard Max tried, he was still severely confused. Not that he didn’t know about the Age of Anarchy, or the parties involved in the Age of Anarchy.

The quarantine, needless to say, could get pretty boring most of the time. Max had to do a lot of things to kill time, and some of those activities involved reading books that children shouldn’t be reading. He did read some children’s books, but then he would find himself looking through history articles and books, and reading the chapters that interested him the most. For instance, he was confident he knew about the Age of Anarchy, but one thing was knowing about it, and another, different thing, was having an opinion about in regards to it.

Max didn’t know if he had something to say about the topic. If he did, it was a very incomplete idea, and it was very likely he wouldn’t be able to phrase it correctly.

The group of people Max talked the most to were adults, and those adults, especially the ones who had experienced the Age of Anarchy and somehow managed to make it out alive, refused to talk about it. As for the few children he had talked to…

Well, about them…

Long story short, they had lives.

They all had lives outside of a glass, unlike Max. Maybe they weren’t the most interesting of lives, but at least they for sure had to be more interesting than his’. They didn’t have a pre-established schedule, where a designated person would come in to feed him or extract blood samples from his body, to then take them to the laboratory. They didn’t have to hear a total of seven alarms to remind him what he had to do: Wake up and get dressed, have breakfast and brush his teeth, enter the virtual sessions with his teachers, take a shower, have his blood samples taken, start doing his homework –if he had any- and do whatever he wanted once he was finished, have dinner, brush his teeth and go to bed, and then start all over again.

That moment, when he had spare time, would be the same one normal kids used to go out with their friends, like Adrian did. To go to the park and get themselves a scarily huge wound at the center of their knee. To live. To breathe air. To do…literally anything that wasn’t this.

Because Max was different from the many children he hadn’t yet gotten the opportunity to meet or talk to, because, obviously, they wouldn’t want to spend the whole day hanging out with a person…like him.

The only way Max could see two out of the three people in his family was through a crystal wall. And he couldn’t kiss them, he couldn’t touch them… sometimes he even wondered if he knew how their voices sounded, because, after all, Dad’s voice sounded the tiniest bit different once he crossed that infamous glass door.

He couldn’t walk through the streets of Gatlon, because, for starters, he didn’t know them. And if he dared to go out there, he would get killed on spot for having accidentally neutralized a prodigy who didn’t want to be neutralized.

Other kids had nannies whom they complained about when their parents couldn’t look after them (at least that’s the kind of things he saw on the TV shows he watched) but Max had patrol units that would move from one corner of the room to another, ready to attack anyone who came closer than necessary to him, because the only one who could take care of him in person, was Hugh.

Other kids could go out freely, without being scared of anything at all. They could get hurt while having fun with their friends and family. They could laugh until they cried with them. They could hug them, sleep in the same bed as them. They could walk their pets, go on road trips, go to amusement stores, water parks…

They could experience the current world; watch all the new events that were happening every day, in first hand.

They didn’t have to read about the past, or the people from the past to keep themselves entertained. They didn’t have the need to do that. At all.

They were living the lives Max couldn’t have, because he was too dangerous for that.

And obviously, that’s why he couldn’t just…go around asking other kids about what was their favorite bug, their favorite planet…or their opinions about Ace Anarchy, and if Pops (Simon) saying “Alec, with an A as in Abusive Swine” made them laugh.

Besides, he hadn’t even met that many kids his age. Or kids, for that matter.

He was aware Adrian wasn’t exactly a grown up, but he wasn’t a kid either, so, he usually didn’t make it into that list.

In fact, just like the banned powers in that manual, there were only two kids in Max’s list of acquaintances.

Aunt Tamaya’s first baby was born without powers, when Max was like four years old, and his dads were way too excited about it (Weird thing to brag about out loud, honestly, because all the recruits in the Headquarters were betting ridiculous amounts of money on which powers the Thunderbaby would have –Max could hear them- and one day they just heard The Dread Warden storming into the hallway, euphorically screaming “GUESS WHAT, MY LITTLE CHERUB BABY? YOUR COUSIN IS ABSOLUTELY FREAKING POWERLESS!”), for they thought Max would finally be able to have a friend who was more or less his age. Dad was the one who brought him in, two weeks after he was born. He was still tiny, red and chubby, and wrapped in his three different blankets that way, he looked like a bloated marshmallow.

Aunt Tamaya, her husband, Pops, Adrian, Aunt Kasumi and Uncle Evander were outside (as always) waiting to see what happened…and, it was extremely odd for Max to admit it, but he couldn’t remember much about that moment, even though he was already older than three. There was, however, a video taken by Uncle Evander where, if you narrowed your eyes hard enough, you could see the moment Max burst into tears right after kissing the baby’s cheek.

Neil was his friend.

At least, Max considered him to be his friend. Still, they had an age gap of four whole years, and a part of him was waiting until he was a little older so they could be on the same page. Because sometimes, when Neil couldn’t comprehend something semi-important that Max had just said, things could get pretty awkward, because there were occasions when, if Neil got too frustrated over anything, he would start crying, and his sobs often summoned his mother all the way from across the building. She never particularly tried to put the blame on Max. In fact, she hadn’t even glared at him not once, ever.

But she did choose to take him with her, into her office, or ask Adrian to babysit him while he calmed down. Afterwards, he usually didn’t come back to the quarantine.

“It’s not your fault, Max.” Pops would tell him, always. “It’s just that…Neil...he’s younger than you. There are things that might be…easy to you, but that are super complicated to him. And you might be able to do things that he can’t, and he can’t understand why he can’t, so he gets super confused and angry and that’s why he cries and Tamaya has to come and comfort him.”

“That, and because she’s like a...very freaky bird mom who hears her children cry and comes around with her super sonic enhanced sense of hea—“

“Hugh, don’t be rude.”

Every time they had that discussion in front of him, Max could never understand why Pops said Dad was being rude. He was right, to a certain extent. Aunt Tamaya was just…being a mom.

And that’s what moms did.

At least, that’s what Max had read and seen on TV because families like his’ were…super rare to find in his cartoons or favorite books. In fact, the times when he had seen himself represented in any of the things were so few that, for the longest time, Max had this weird, messed up idea that biological men could give birth. He thought that Adrian, apart from the fact that he was the closest to him, looked more similar to Simon, and that had to mean he had given birth to him, while Hugh had been the one to give birth to Max.

One year, when Max was six, they finished Lady Indomitable’s gigantic golden statue, placed downtown. It was late June, and though the city had previously looked covered in colors, that day it just looked…white and golden. That’s the best way Max could find to put it into words.

According to Max’s weather application, the heat was unbearable that day (good thing he couldn’t feel anything because the temperature in the quarantine was always regulated) yet, according to what he was seeing in one of his screens, a great percentage of the citizens of Gatlon were marching in the streets carrying floating lanterns, headed towards downtown where the event was being held.

The Council was standing in front of the covered statue. All of them except Blacklight, who had stayed to take care of the Headquarters, and Max could see him from where he was. They gave a speech about Lady Indomitable together, and as they started revealing the statue, Tsunami sang a song that was supposed to be one of Lady Indomitable’s favorite ones, and that Max was too young to recognize (he supposed). In his opinion, it was a cute event, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t utterly confused the moment he saw Adrian taking one step ahead to be the first one to let go of his floating lantern, which was different from the other ones, because his’ was bigger, and it had a big “I”. Besides, people waited a couple of seconds until it was stable above their heads to let go of their own floating lanterns.

It still looked cute to him, but now it looked weird as well. So he got up from his chair, and walked towards the edge, pressing his hands against the glass. He hoped that would be enough to magically catch Evander’s attention, who was, at the moment, using his chair as a swing, as he typed a number in his computer, copying it from his calculator and eating from his salad every now and then. Obviously, Max’s telepathic call wasn’t enough, and he had to knock on the glass a couple of times, loudly. Even then, Uncle Evander didn’t look up in his direction.

But he did hear him, because he did respond.

“It’s not gonna work, Maximus. I’m not getting you out.”

As a side note, Max considered telling him his full name was Maximilian and not Maximus, because that was way before he realized it was a nickname. Nevertheless, he just let it pass, for the simple reason he had better things to ask. That’s why he proceeded to knock again, instead of speaking.

“What is it?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

Evander tried to steady himself in the chair without falling on his back, and once he succeeded, he came closer to the quarantine, with his arms over his hips.

“Why is Adrian doing that?” He asked, just because he wasn’t able to find another way to phrase it, while pointing at the screen behind him; Evander narrowed his eyes following his finger, as if he hadn’t been watching the event himself from a livestream on his phone. A few seconds later, he seemed to realize what he was talking about, and bit his upper lip, before pouting barely a little.

Then, he clicked his tongue.

“Because that’s his mom. And today’s her birthday.”

And it’s not that Max was insensitive enough not to recognize that it was very sad, but at the same time those single words were enough to make the idea he had of his life fall apart. All the things he thought he had already managed to understand felt fake and incorrect, and it was so fast it almost made him feel dizzy.

“She’s not his mom.” He declared.

Evander opened his eyes very widely and, next thing he knew, was that, for some reason, he looked nervous. Which, to say the least, was very…unlike Evander. He was usually super…confident, and, in Dad’s words: “He walks with his back too straight for a person who says some dumb shit every time he opens his mouth”.

At that moment, his back wasn’t straight at all, and he kept on wiping the sweat off his palms in the suit.

“…I mean…she’s not…alive anymore. But… that doesn’t mean that…”

“Noooo. I didn’t mean that.” Max cut him off. “She’s not her mom, because Adrian already has a mom.”

He stopped suddenly. Max could almost see his brain working at full speed, trying to process the data he had just received. Then, he blinked, arching his eyebrow.

“Who’s…who’s his mom?” He asked, getting closer to the crystal, and crouching down to be at Max’s height (Evander was almost too tall for his own sake). “Do Simon or Hugh…?”

“No. I mean she’s not his mom because Simon’s his mom.” Max stated, confident enough to move a mountain with his raw determination and his bare hands, which, needless to say, did nothing but make Evander even more confused.

Not that Max couldn’t understand why.

He was a brand new, redeemed person now.

But back then he wasn’t.

“…Simon is what, you said?”

“Adrian’s mom.” Max reaffirmed.

Still bewildered, Evander gawked. Perhaps he understood where that confusion was coming from but, at the same time, maybe he was too disturbed to ask for additional information. Max didn’t know which one of the two would make him feel more embarrassed, especially taking into account the next thing Evander said:

“That is the weirdest shit somebody has ever said to me, and I’ve talked to the Puppeteer an unhealthy amount of times.”

He wasn’t the one who explained to him the way his own family worked. On the contrary, he immediately told his dads about it, and next time the both of them came to talk to him, they tried to make him understand the concept of homosexual couples.

And they failed.

Miserably.

And he was using that term, because after that talk, Max went through life for a while saying that his ethnicity was Gay, because both of his dads were gay. Over and over again, they tried to correct him, but nothing seemed to work, and Max kept on spreading the information that he was gay (something he didn’t know yet) until Aunt Kasumi decided to intervene and, for his birthday, she got him a children’s book called All in Rainbow, which, according to the information in the first page, was actually a translation from a Latin American book written by two lesbians (one of them non-binary) and illustrated by the same woman who had made the Anarchists’ and the Renegades’ graphic novels and was also a Latina.

That book was something similar to a gay encyclopedia. It was narrated by this girl named Phoenix, because it followed her throughout her school and her daily life, where she came across different people and families. After every short story, there was an informative section explaining everything in regards to the new person’s identity, including their flag, the meaning of said flag, and the explanation of certain terms. Max really enjoyed it, and, in fact, he ended up going through it more than once. When he tried to persuade Adrian into reading it too, he admitted he already had, when he was younger, and proceeded to make a comment about how pretty the name “Phoenix” was.

It was only then that Max was able to understand how his own family worked, and how freaking inept he had sounded when he decided it was a great idea to use it as an ethnicity.

That book was, in fact, the cue for all the grown ups in his life to start buying books for him, which he was grateful for, except for the one that he, ironically enough, had gotten from Uncle Evander. Sure, he appreciated that he had spent money on that, but Max didn’t appreciate the fact that the plot was about a dog that was sent away to a school for dogs but made everyone believe he was in jail so he could escape. The drawings were cute, but he just couldn’t find the moral of the story and he didn’t like that.

His dads, from their part, got him a book about two frogs that, at least to Max, acted as if they were a couple; Aunt Tamaya was the one of the short books without drawings.

As for Aunt Kasumi…she usually brought a lot of educational books; every time she overheard him expressing something that was making him confused, she brought him a book about it, including that time she heard him asking Ruby Tucker “So, are you always bleeding?” completely out of context.

Max supposed that it had a lot to do with the fact that Aunt Kasumi was in charge of Child Services, and she spent a lot of time with children, especially because she liked to volunteer in orphanages, having been in one herself when she was a little girl. She usually moved in prodigy orphanages, for she was one to know the poor conditions they sometimes presented.

And…to say the least, she wasn’t a woman of many words. She was very reserved with everything she did. And, besides, it was none of Max’s business. After all, he was just a kid.

But, in this case, it kind of involved him.

Kind of.

For the simple reason that there were two names in the list of people his age Max had talked to. The first one was Neil (who wasn’t even his age. He was just close to that) and the second one…

The second one involved Aunt Kasumi.

Just like people were able to overhear his conversations through the quarantine, Max was able to overhear the conversations they were having on the outside, especially when he was trying to do it on purpose.

Every time he was too bored, in other words.

Some of the things older people said were confusing, but, over time, Max had learned to store that information, so he could comprehend it better in the future. He didn’t know at what level that was healthy, yet he still did it because, literally, he didn’t have anything better to do.

During extremely busy days, the Council chose to spend the night in the Headquarters, just in case, and while they could sleep in the common room, if Pops was too insistent on wanting to be close to the quarantine, they slept in the hallway.

In Max’s hallway.

Of course, Dad would sleep with him inside the quarantine but, in order to make it feel more like a pajama party, they slept close to the edge of the “room” (if it could be called that way), so close to the Councils’ inflatable beds, they could’ve touched them if there hadn’t been a wall in between.

When they were sleeping in that hallway, there wasn’t a patrol looking over Max, because they were the patrol and, every two hours, they changed turns to stay awake. All of them except Dad, who stayed the entire night with Max. The others often got up and started walking around the quarantine according to their ages. That is, Aunt Tamaya went first, followed by Pops, then Aunt Kasumi, and Uncle Evander at the end. However, since it wasn’t like they were too used to having many hours of sleep, Kasumi and Evander usually got up at the same time and patrolled together.

That night, Max was having trouble sleeping. Dad was hugging him, which made him feel very comfortable, but, at the same time, before he wrapped his arms around him, he had been moving way too much, and that had made Max feel uneasy, because a part of him, though he knew it was highly possible it wasn’t true, was feeding the annoying worm at the back of his brain that told him he was the one making Dad uneasy. That Dad was moving and couldn’t sleep because he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Pops. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Adrian, even. Anyone but Max.

Which, again, he knew things…weren’t like that. But that little, nameless, uninvited worm was always telling him that, over and over again, determined to repeat those awful words until they made so much noise they made him cry.

And even then, when he was already crying, the worm ate deeper into his brain and told him to stop because, in the end, who was he crying for anyway?

Who was he crying for, if nobody was here to see or hear him?

That night, of course, he didn’t cry, for the simple reason that…well, he did have somebody who would hear him cry, and maybe comfort him like Aunt Tamaya comforted Neil when he was crying…

But he didn’t want Dad to do that.

Not today.

Not because he were mad at him, but because he feared that, if he did, then Dad would be the one who would get mad.

Besides, that night he got extremely busy trying to overhear the conversation between Kasumi and Evander who, the moment they got up, started talking as they walked, first at a volume so low their voices could’ve been considered murmurs, but then, with every second, the issue started escalating.

And it wasn’t that they were arguing, it was that they weren’t exactly happy with each other, nor did they seem to manage to get to a mutual agreement.

Max felt like that time he was watching a movie with his earphones on, and instead of paying attention to the plot, he kept trying to identify which sounds were dominant in his left ear, and which ones were dominant in his right ear, because Uncle Evander and Aunt Kasumi were walking around the quarantine, and the echoes of their voices were floating right behind them, making it almost impossible for Max to decipher their messages word by word.

At least, until they stopped in front of him. That is, very close to the inflatable mattresses, too. And with just one eye open, he was able to tell Aunt Kasumi wasn’t amused, with her arms so tight across her chest that way, and with Uncle Evander standing more straight than necessary (because, yes, Dad was right about that...sometimes... because Max had read somewhere that tall people had to be really careful with their posture to avoid spine deformities or have less complications when they were older) waving his –as Aunt Tamaya would’ve called them- Hot Cheeto fingers right in front of her face, in a way so aggressive she sometimes had to lean backwards not to get one of her eyes poked out.

“…and it won’t look good for the organization. It won’t look good, Kasumi. You know why?”

“Yes, Vandy. I know why. I already knew before, yet you took the time to explain it to me another seven times. I mean, thank you, I guess, but—“

“If I kept on explaining it to you, it’s because I didn’t…and I don’t know what’s not clicking.”

“What do you mean with what’s not clicking?” And she tilted her head to the side. “…Are you still talking to me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kasumi. Especially not in front of me, because I know you.”

“Right. But I still don’t get what you’re referring to. What’s not clicking about what, exactly?”

Evander laughed in a way Max would’ve just…understood if she had decided to punch him in the face so he would stop.

“We’re a big organization, Kasumi. People talk.”

“Of course that people talk. I mean, our citizens support our cause and our government system. In fact, statistically, more than half of the population do, but sometimes there are things that… are for their own good but they will refuse to understand and accept them anyway. And that’s normal. We might be the law, but we can’t control how the masses think, you know?”

“For their own good, you say. Beneficial.”

“Exactly.”

“Beneficial for who, if you’d be so kind?” Evander laughed again. “As far as I understand, we’re talking about one single problem, from a single person. It won’t bring anything beneficial, as you call it, for our organization, or for our system…if anything, it will damage it and make us lose credibility.”

“…Why?”

As a response, he started flapping his arms around, as if he were trying to point at something invisible. Or at something that wasn’t really there.

And this time, Aunt Kasumi didn’t try to pretend she was seeing it, and remained silent until Evander realized he would have to make himself understood.

“Because…” He clenched his fists, sighing loudly, almost like he was certain he was right and Aunt Kasumi wasn’t. “Our policy. Remember that? You know, a thing that actually exists and you helped write?”

She didn’t respond.

“Our policy as Renegades, it’s that we shall keep our people safe, and that includes prodigy and non-prodigy citizens. We shall preserve their lives no matter the cost, and create a safe environment where all can coexist and protect each other. That means that no prodigy individual with questionable reasons is to be allowed to cross that gate and disturb the peace or, worse, put somebody’s life at risk.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yes, you should be, because we wrote it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Evander, please. There’s no need to curse or—“

“…But you know what that means? It means that we can’t just…go against that policy and expect our citizens, our recruits, even, to still take us seriously.”

“Oh, but I’m following that policy because, as you might remember, we also pledged to assist anyone whose life was at risk, and people who, day by day, have to live under very vulnerable circumstances. It is our job to intervene and take them to a safer place, where their quality of life can improve, isn’t it?”

“It is, but that applies for people who aren’t dangerous to society.”

At that point, Max had both his eyes open, and he was seeing the scene more clearly.

In fact, everything was so clear, that he was able to read the confusion in Aunt Kasumi’s expression, even before she said:

“…This is a kid we’re talking about.”

“She is dangerous.”

“She’s not dangerous, Evander. She's a kid. Sure, her behavior has caused her to go bouncing from orphanage to orphanage like a rubber ball but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be helped, that doesn’t mean we should just turn our backs at her, and that doesn’t mean she’s dangerous.”

“You know damn well her behavior’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I am, because that’s the only thing that should concern us at the moment.”

“No, it’s not?”

“It is. Because she’s a kid…and, honestly, Vandy…” Aunt Kasumi sighed. “… I know we were raised thinking life is war, but… the truth is, people are not born evil. Or dangerous, for that matter. Take your time and think about it, and you can talk to me again once you’ve calmed down, because you must be pretty much aware I don't appreciate this tone. Besides, it’s not like this little argument is going to stop me anyway.” She shrugged.

“…after all, I already talked to Hugh.”

“…And what did he say?”

“It’s not my place to tell you that. Ask him.”

Max never knew whether he had taken that suggestion or not but, knowing Evander, he just assumed he hadn’t. And, to be honest, he never asked Dad about it either. He just stood and watched how everything proceeded to go down and chaos unleashed.

Though, he had to admit, unlike what had happened with other “big” events, this one specific chaos was rather discrete. A kind of well-kept secret.

In fact, the only explicit hint that something would happen in the next few days, was the little disturbance caused by Team Frostbite (it was always Team Frostbite. Max had no idea why everyone was so…willing to put up with their…issues so much, and without hesitation) when it was their turn to patrol around the quarantine and Evander came around, holding his notepad, and muttered something to them.

“Whom?!” Genissa Clark, Frostbite, snapped immediately.

Evander frowned and, judging by the way his moustache moved, he also pouted, before turning at Mack Baxter, Aftershock, to start talking to him instead.

“Do you have any idea of what she’s talking about?” He clicked his tongue. “Like…okay, nevermind…”

When Max looked up, he saw the exact moment when Evander realized he was listening to the conversation, so he lowered his tone once again. Yet, Max was still able to see the million ways in which Genissa Clark's face contorted and, in the end, the first second Evander shut his mouth, she declared:

“We’re not available for that. Perhaps that task should be assigned to Team Sketch or Team Peregrine. They’re always lollygagging around, it’s about time they get some real responsibi—“

“That’s a no, then. Alright. Thanks for your cooperation, Team Frostbite. Or, lack of, more likely. Do better next time, okay?”

If Max wanted to be honest with himself, it hadn’t taken him much time to realize he wasn’t fond of any of the members in Team Frostbite. Or Frostbite herself. In fact, he considered her to be almost insufferable, and, again, he couldn’t quite understand why they were allowed to boss everybody around. To a certain extent, they reminded him of the popular kids (who were also bullies) in every movie he had ever watched. They weren’t nice. Not even likeable.

Maybe Max was just very specific on the type of people he liked.

Or maybe he liked everyone and their mom, except Team Frostbite, because he didn’t know any better than that, while at the same time he knew better than liking Team Frostbite.

But he didn’t know better than liking Margaret White, because…well…

She hadn’t done anything particularly awful for him to have an opinion as strong as Uncle Evander’s about her.

She came on a Friday.

Not that she exclusively came to talk to him.

She, in fact, arrived alongside Aunt Kasumi, who was wearing her civilian clothes –High-waisted jeans and a baby blue shirt, damp with sweat because it was hot outside- and kept leaving her car key on every table that came across her, before coming back to it to grab them.

At first, Max wasn’t able to see Margaret very well, mostly because he was distracted with his online classes, and she was taken straight to Dad’s office, along with Adrian’s entire team. And though Max didn’t see much, he was able to catch a glimpse on how Adrian kept on trying to grab her hand, and she insisted on pulling away.

At some point, he had read about that too.

The Renegades accepted recruits from ages 14 and up, talking about patrolling. However, they had a child protection program, where, basically, they assisted orphan prodigy children with behavioral issues or, though only few people liked to admit it, potential to be a part of the organization when they were older. Adrian didn’t like it and, strangely enough, out of everyone, Evander didn’t like it either. Nevertheless, Evander was one to get more aggressive when it came to child recruitment, which, thankfully, wasn’t common at all.

In fact, those cases were so rare, that they referred to them as “exceptions”. After all, children were not allowed into the Trials. As far as Max knew, they weren’t placed in patrol units. On the contrary, they were given small positions in the organization, and their paychecks were directed to their respective savings account, something that Pops was in charge of. However, they could use that money for their personal needs or something they wanted to buy, as the few children recruits resided in orphanages around Gatlon and went back there after their shift was over. Max supposed that sometimes their caretakers refused to buy them something because it wasn’t good for their health and it must be very satisfying to tell them it was their money (That’s what Adrian always did when Dad refused to buy something for him).

(That, or he went and asked Pops for that same thing).

Usually, they could have cash withdrawals just by presenting their Renegade Recruit ID because, obviously, they didn’t have an official ID yet.

And not only that. The children recruits were assigned a patrol unit with older members to look after them, or help them with anything they needed. Taking into account the conversation he had overheard, he supposed that duty had fallen on Adrian’s team (A theory that was later confirmed to be true by Adrian himself).

They were never left unsupervised, just like Max.

The day Margaret arrived, for a couple of minutes, maybe hours, Max was submerged in his own little world, and in the assignment his last teacher had told him to do. It was just him, his colored pencils, his paper sheets, his notes, his head, his hands, and the miniature planet Earth that his quarantine supposed, against the real world that he had never stepped on.

But every now and then, a little piece of the unknown, mysterious real world came running to his encounter and talked to him, sometimes in the most sudden, unsolicited way.

Sometimes it was Dad opening the door without calling. Sometimes it was Adrian pressing a new drawing against the crystal. Sometimes it was Pops, making a little “Psst” sound to get his attention.

Sometimes it was three little knocks, and the girl that was producing them with her knuckles.

Back then, Margaret’s hair was longer, to the point where she could tie it in a high ponytail, decorated with a blue bow, which combined with his orphanage uniform: A white polo, with the institution’s symbol by the right side of her chest, beneath a cobalt blue skirt with suspenders, long white socks and black scholar shoes.

He saw her and recognized she was real the first time, but Max still gave himself a couple of seconds to grasp the fact that she was really there.

Well, not there-there.

That she was there, as in, through the glass.

And she was calling him, even if she wasn’t saying anything. In fact, she was just there, eating from a chocolate bar with puffed rice. Her free hand was still over the glass.

And she was waiting.

So, he figured he didn’t want to keep her waiting anymore, and leaving his task and his tools behind, Max walked in her direction. And like it always happened, he stopped right before bumping his forehead against the hard, translucent surface.

Margaret took another bite from her chocolate, with an arched eyebrow, but she said nothing. From afar, Max hadn’t been able to really appreciate her features, but now that he was closer, he realized she was taller than him; her small, brown eyes were making her lashes look bigger; her black hair looked thicker and he was able to conclude that her skin tone was more or less like Pops’, maybe a little darker. She had a mark over her cheek, and at first Max thought it was a mole or a birthmark…until, of course, he realized that moles weren’t (or, at least, shouldn’t be) purple, and realized it was a bruise.

He didn’t ask her about it. Adrian had once told him that there were people who might not want to talk about their bruises or open wounds, not because the stories behind them were painful to tell, but because they were too embarrassing and telling embarrassing stories was an inconvenience.

“…well… now that I think about it…” He said right after. “…That’s not it. No. Not really. Sometimes your wounds’ backstories are painful. Or sometimes…you just want to keep them a secret, you know? And secrets are…sort of important.”

He believed every word.

Hence why, instead of saying something too nosy about that bruise, a little slowly at first, Max started lifting his hand up, until he reached the spot where Margaret’s was, and pressed his palm there. When she stared at his palm in confusion, Max clarified:

“Hugh five. You know?" Max giggled a little." As in… the Captain? Hugh? ...No?"

She didn’t laugh. And that was odd because Adrian would’ve.

Margaret wasn’t Adrian, sadly. And, it seemed to be, she hadn’t had an older sibling to tell her that some things just…weren’t adequate as icebreakers to start a conversation. Because, like Adrian had said, there were certain things other people might not want to talk about.

“Are you sick?” She directly asked.

Max was still “pressing” his hand against hers.

Gulping hard, he felt his throat boiling hot, almost as if it were growing blisters.

“No.” He said in a hoarse voice. “Why?”

Not pulling away either, Margaret said:

“The other day, Sister Malinda brought a very tiny baby into the orphanage. They were so small they had to take them to the medical wing.” She took another bite from her chocolate, and kept on speaking with her mouth full. “I sneaked out of my room to see them, and they were inside this little glass box that helped keeping them alive. Sister Tam told me so.”

Max kept quiet for a while. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t have a little curiosity about the name, but Margaret solved everything that had to be solved even if he didn’t ask her to.

“Sister Tam was named after Thunderbird. She’s younger than the other nuns.”

He guessed so.

Aunt Tamaya’s real name had been revealed to the general public on the 13th year into the Age of Anarchy, when she reappeared after being away for months thanks to an accident that involved Queen Bee and a cliff or something like that (Max couldn’t quite understand it, and Aunt Tamaya couldn’t remember much about it either. If she did, then she just didn’t desire to talk about it). It wasn’t a fun anecdote or anything like that but, according to his dads, the name Tamaya topped the lists for the most female-assigned names for at least a year, and the same thing happened in the 20th year into the Age of Anarchy...however, by the time she was buried, the world didn’t know Lady Indomitable’s real name, and for an entire month, people used Regina instead of Georgia. When Max asked why, Dad answered that, when attending public events, Lady Indomitable used to wear a pair of shiny golden R-shaped earrings that caused everybody in Gatlon to develop mass hysteria and made themselves believe that those Rs meant Regina, when in reality, according to Lady Indomitable herself, one of them meant “Rawles”, and the other “Renegade”. In fact, Oscar Silva (Smokescreen, one of the members of Adrian’s team) had once said that one of his cousins, who lived in Mexico, had been named Renata Regina (Though nobody knew what the heck that first name was, and Oscar had a really peculiar way to pronounce Regina) because she was born a few days after Lady Indomitable’s decease.

“I knew that.” Max lied.

“Sure, buddy. I bet you did.” Margaret chuckled. And there, Max realized she thought she was too clever.

Which, he didn’t doubt she was. He wasn’t in the position to state that. At least, not yet.

But what he was in the position to state, was that, if she thought herself to be clever, then it was his opportunity to think of himself as clever too. After all, he had been reading his whole life because he didn’t have anything else to do.

If Margaret was clever, then so was he.

“You’re talking about an incubator.” He said.

Margaret looked up out of a sudden (Max hoped she hadn’t gotten dizzy). He could still see the chocolate, that at this point should’ve been mush, stored in the inside of her right cheek.

“Uh?” She asked, struggling to keep her mouth closed.

Max gulped, and tapped the surface with his fingers.

“The thing where they put the little baby. It’s called an incubator. That’s where they put pre-term babies, because they’re not ready to survive outside of their mother’s womb. Sometimes their lungs don’t work on their own, sometimes their hearts are too fast or too slow…”

“You look too old to be a baby.” She observed. “Are your powers something related to that? Like, are you a baby who doesn’t look like a baby?”

For a second, Max thought about quoting Evander that time he had boldly stated that Simon was Adrian’s mom, but he didn’t because he wasn’t in the mood to curse.

“…No. First, this is not an incubator. And second, I’m a kid.” He answered. “I’m not a baby.”

“Then why are you here?”

The short answer was that, honestly, that was none of her business. And the even shorter answer, was:

“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. And secrets are sort of important.”

“A secret.” She repeated, as if tasting the word. “…You don’t look like you want to be here. Are you allowed to come out?”

The short answer was still that it was none of her business. But, if he wanted to be honest, for some reason, he didn’t want to give that answer. Because, to be fair, she would find out on her own sooner or later. Because, yes, people talked, and while his dads were kind of secretive about him, everyone in the headquarters knew him. Her being clueless was just a temporary event that would vanish into thin air in a blink.

And, for some reason, he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Maybe tell her something that wasn’t real. Maybe… tell her something that wasn’t necessarily true but that he wanted it to be. Maybe something that was more interesting than what he was, in reality; maybe something that would make the worm in his brain go away for two weeks.

"I can't get out." He finally decided. "Because this glass is infrangible."

Then, he knocked on it three times.

"See?"

Margaret tilted her hair to the side, looking like a cat.

"What does that word mean?"

And dumb as it sounded, Max felt a twinge in his stomach along with a violent wave of pride. Because, even if it was hard for him to admit it, he was hoping she would ask that.

He wanted her to ask that.

"It means you can't break it."

Margaret's eyes seemed bigger. But just as she was separating her lips to speak, somebody behind her cleared their throat.

That's when Max spotted Aunt Kasumi leaned against a wall with her arms crossed. When Margaret looked over her shoulder, she found her there too. But while Max waved at her, Margaret remained inexpressive.

"You're very far from the restroom, Maggie." Kasumi said, in a serious tone. Afterwards, she massaged her temples.

"Please, darling. Just… help me here, okay? We have to go back to the office."

And she didn't seem mad, but rather disappointed.

When it came to Aunt Kasumi, that was enough. Max knew that, and Margaret knew that too. That's why they both removed their hands from the glass, and Margaret started going away.

However, before she was too far, Max asked:

"Why are you here?"

And Margaret turned around, smiling.

"If you're not telling me, I'm not telling you." She sentenced. Then, she proceeded to imitate his voice as she said:

"It's a secret."

And for a while, obviously, it remained that way. A secret. But it wasn't long before they both knew everything they needed to know.

Margaret was integrated into the janitorial team, but, for a while, people talked about her and her powers, and Max couldn’t help but remember what Dad had told him in the bathtub, and the conversation between Evander and Kasumi.

Yet, more than scared, Max felt… something he didn't know what it was. In fact, he wasn't scared of her. More likely, a part of him felt that he knew what it was like to be her, because maybe they weren't that different after all.

People were scared of them both.

But he wasn't scared of her. No, not really.

He hoped she wasn’t scared of him either.

Maybe they could've been very good friends, even through the infrangible glass that kept him from getting pointed at, frowned upon or killed.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #Dawnie writes #renegades ship week #margaret white #magpie #max everthart-westwood #the bandit

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coolnerdyandalone · 4 years

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on FIMQ deleting her content and COVID-19 (and a gratuitous larry fic rec)

@freddiesmyqueen first of all queen i hope you’re doing ok although i know some shit must have gone down for you to delete/private list all your videos and i hope you know that the larry community supports you always. Also your talent is TRULY unmatched in the world of video editing - no one makes edits quite like you and that’s why your loss impacts the community so profoundly.

secondly, i know at least i was hoping to turn to rewatching all of FIMQ’s videos while i’m being quarantined due to the coronavirus. and i’m willing to bet that i’m not the only one. this is a scary time and for people like me who feel profoundly alone right now, the only way for me to calm my nerves and fears is by reverting to the content and community that helped me feel not so alone when i was in middle and high school. For me, that looks like watching FIMQ videos and reading my favorite larry fanfics (which i will also link below). because of this i thought it might be helpful to repost some links that were posted by @bluemoonlarryandkaylor for a signal boost (if my teeny-tiny account can be called a signal boost).

link to a google drive with FIMQ videos: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1ONwfLOd_IYvAL5OUDqDb_LLgQsDpd9il

link to an acct with some FIMQ re-uploads: https://www.youtube.com/user/Joana3961/videos

link to FIMQ vids with spanish subtitles: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIouodFhArMkQhOHxv2t2NgxTwl6KvXAT

and now if you want to look at some good old fashioned larry fics that are my ABSOLUTE faves and could 100% be actual novels/movies, keep reading:

And Then A Bit** by @infinitelymint aka the best fanfic ever written (basically larry fakes a relationship for publicity with each other and it could be cannon if you really wanted to hope upon hopes): https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415272/chapters/2972746 (159k)

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Escapade** by @haydolce aka the Jack McQueen fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034197/chapters/9071932 (146k)

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

California Sold** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157680/chapters/11877494 (123k)

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

Bring Your Body Baby (I Could Bring You Fame) by @theboyfriendstagram : https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263903/chapters/9652944 (84k)

Eighteen year old Harry Styles just graduated high school and landed a summer job as a waterboy for his favorite football team. His job description is simple: be ready to hand water and towels to players if needed. That didn’t seem to include Louis Tomlinson though, a twenty-three year old, recently transferred Paris Saint-German player, who seems to like making Harry’s job much more difficult than it has to be.

A self-indulgent AU that takes place over the summer of 2015. 18 year old Harry hates pining after people he can't have, and 23 year old footballer Louis loves flirting with people even though it never means anything.

Pull Me Under** by @zarah5 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/870766/chapters/1672104 (140k)

AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis' favourite teammate, Liam as Louis' agent, and Zayn as Liam's boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.)

You You You** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/846690/chapters/1617212 (137k)

“Infamous boybander leaves club together with unknown,” read the headline. Underneath were pictures of a boy with dark curls, green eyes and very tight pants. They both studied the article for a moment, reading it through quickly. “Is that…?” Louis frowned. That guy almost looked exactly like... "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!" "Louis," Niall said, looking absolutely fucked over. "You just fucked the most wanted guy on earth. You just fucked Harry Styles of One Direction."

Or, the one where Harry and Louis meet at a club and Louis takes Harry home, only for him to realize that the boy who just made him breakfast half naked is Harry Styles from One Direction.

Like an Endless Summer by @horsegirlharry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365494/chapters/25442085 (87k)

“You just wanna go fawn over Styles as soon as possible,” Zayn grumbles.

“I do not. Plus, he probably got ugly this year. Eighteen is an awkward time...I bet he’s got acne and one of those terrible fuckboy haircuts all the hipsters are getting these days, with the shaved sides? Just watch, the first year we’re gonna get any time together is gonna be the first year I don’t have a stupid crush on him.”

---

Or, Louis is a riding instructor at a summer camp, and Harry is a fellow counselor who he’s been successfully managing his crush on for the last two summers. That is, until Harry shows up this year leveled up and lethal, and all Louis’s formerly perfected veneer of nonchalance melts like a popsicle in the sun.

Three French Hems by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064493 (20k)

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

The Dead of July aka the Marvel Fic by @whimsicule : https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594570/chapters/7928520 (117k)

Being an Avenger means continuing to be Captain America and smiling and being honorable for the public and Harry does his best. But it doesn’t give him time to figure out who he is supposed to be once he takes off his uniform and puts the shield to the side. Just being Harry had always involved Louis, and Harry fears he doesn’t know how to exist without him.

or: Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

Gods & Monsters by @mizzwilde : https://archiveofourown.org/works/2090982/chapters/4550871 (201k)

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

Love is a Rebellious Bird aka LIARB aka the orchestra fic aka dont hum bolero by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162438/chapters/2362331 (135k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

My English Love Affair** by @isthatyoularry : https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873962 (19k)

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can’t Lose by @haydolce : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5799241/chapters/13366498 (113k)

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Wild and Unruly aka the Cowboy fic by @100percentsassy and @gloriaandrews : https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723093/chapters/6099611 (124k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December)** by @greenfeelings : https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051122/chapters/34892210 (128k)

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

the boys of fall** aka the american football fic by @godgavemelou : https://archiveofourown.org/works/5443037 (21k)

“And everyone, this is Harry Styles. He’s going to be our starting quarterback this year.”

Louis looks at him, the tall and lanky Harry Styles, and takes it all in. He’s got hair to his shoulders that curls at the ends, tattoos all down his arms, and a bright smile on his face as the team cheers him on. He’s lean and fit, and absolutely beautiful, and Louis hates him to the core.

OR an american football au where the boys play for the university of tennessee, and harry and louis quite hate each other.

** indicates that the fic is a log-in required fic, but if you want the pdf i can send it to you

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richincolor · 3 years

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We have five books to start off the second half of the year! They are all out tomorrow--are any of them on your TBR list?

Rise to the Sun by Leah Johnson Scholastic Press

Three days. Two girls. One life-changing music festival.

Olivia is an expert at falling in love . . . and at being dumped. But after the fallout from her last breakup has left her an outcast at school and at home, she’s determined to turn over a new leaf. A crush-free weekend at Farmland Music and Arts Festival with her best friend is just what she needs to get her mind off the senior year that awaits her.

Toni is one week away from starting college, and it’s the last place she wants to be. Unsure about who she wants to become and still reeling in the wake of the loss of her musician-turned-roadie father, she’s heading back to the music festival that changed his life in hopes that following in his footsteps will help her find her own way forward.

When the two arrive at Farmland, the last thing they expect is to realize that they’ll need to join forces in order to get what they’re searching for out of the weekend. As they work together, the festival becomes so much more complicated than they bargained for, and Olivia and Toni will find that they need each other, and music, more than they ever could have imagined.

Packed with irresistible romance and irrepressible heart, bestselling author Leah Johnson delivers a stunning and cinematic story about grief, love, and the remarkable power of music to heal and connect us all.

Summer in the City of Roses by Michelle Ruiz Keil Soho Teen

All her life, seventeen-year-old Iph has protected her sensitive younger brother, Orr. But this summer, with their mother gone at an artist residency, their father decides it’s time for fifteen-year-old Orr to toughen up at a wilderness boot camp. When he brings Iph to a work gala in downtown Portland and breaks the news, Orr has already been sent away. Furious at his betrayal, Iph storms off and gets lost in the maze of Old Town. Enter George, a queer Robin Hood who swoops in on a bicycle, bow and arrow at the ready, offering Iph a place to hide out while she figures out how to track down Orr.

Orr, in the meantime, has escaped the camp and fallen in with The Furies, an all-girl punk band, and moves into the coat closet of their ramshackle pink house. In their first summer apart, Iph and Orr must learn to navigate their respective new spaces of music, romance, and sex work activism—and find each other to try to stop a transformation that could fracture their family forever. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

If You, Then Me by Yvonne Woon Katherine Tegen Books

What would you ask your future self? First question: What does it feel like to kiss someone?

Xia is stuck in a lonely, boring loop. Her only escapes are Wiser, an artificial intelligence app she designed to answer questions like her future self, and a mysterious online crush she knows only as ObjectPermanence.

And then one day Xia enrolls at the Foundry, an app incubator for tech prodigies in Silicon Valley.

Suddenly, anything is possible. Flirting with Mast, a classmate also working on AI, leads to a date. Speaking up generates a vindictive nemesis intent on publicly humiliating her. And running into Mitzy Erst, Foundry alumna and Xia’s idol, could give Xia all the answers.

And then Xia receives a shocking message from ObjectPermanence: He is at the Foundry, too. Xia is torn between Mast and ObjectPermanence—just as Mitzy pushes her towards a shiny new future. Xia doesn’t have to ask Wiser to know: The right choice could transform her into the future self of her dreams, but the wrong one could destroy her. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Djeliya by Juni Ba TKO Studios

Inspired by West African folklore and stories handed over centuries, this unique graphic novel follows the adventures of Mansou, last prince of a dying kingdom, and Awa, his loyal Djeliya, or 'royal storyteller' as they journey to meet the great wizard who destroyed their world and then withdrew into his tower, never to be seen again. On their journey they'll cross paths with friend and foe, from myth and legend alike, and revisit the traditions, tales, and stories that gave birth to their people and nurture them still. But what dark secret lies at the heart of these stories, and what purpose do their tellers truly serve? -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

Six Crimson Cranes (Six Crimson Cranes #1) by Elizabeth Lim Knopf

Shiori, the only princess of Kiata, has a secret. Forbidden magic runs through her veins. Normally she conceals it well, but on the morning of her betrothal ceremony, Shiori loses control. At first, her mistake seems like a stroke of luck, forestalling the wedding she never wanted, but it also catches the attention of Raikama, her stepmother.

Raikama has dark magic of her own, and she banishes the young princess, turning her brothers into cranes, and warning Shiori that she must speak of it to no one: for with every word that escapes her lips, one of her brothers will die.

Penniless, voiceless, and alone, Shiori searches for her brothers, and, on her journey, uncovers a conspiracy to overtake the throne—a conspiracy more twisted and deceitful, more cunning and complex, than even Raikama's betrayal. Only Shiori can set the kingdom to rights, but to do so she must place her trust in the very boy she fought so hard not to marry. And she must embrace the magic she's been taught all her life to contain—no matter what it costs her. -- Cover image and summary via Goodreads

#rise to the sun #summer in the city of roses #if you then me #djeliya #six crimson cranes

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hopetofantasy · 3 years

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Actress Nora Dari (wtFOCK): “I hope I don't go crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if that happens”

Two years ago she was allowed to bump into Matteo Simoni in ‘Patser’, now your fifteen-year-old knows her as Yasmina from ‘wtFOCK’ and she ended up in Cannes because of the new film by Bas Devos. Where it ends for Nora Dari remains to be seen, but you don't want to get in her way. “You’ve been looking so long for a Moroccan girl who wants to act and then you get me.”

“So I always try to be a bit low key...” She hesitates. "Eumh, do you know what 'low key' means?" "How much of antique do you think I am exactly?" “Gosh. You have a flip cover for your smartphone, I saw.” “Point for Dari. But what are you trying to be a bit low key...” “Huh? Sorry, I have no idea anymore. I was completely distracted by that pigeon over there.” It’s easy to forget - especially when she starts talking in her Genk dialect about her sky-high ambitions or her tough childhood in Winterslag - that Nora Dari is barely seventeen. After all, she’s already accumulated a nice record of achievements in two years. From the Belgian-Finnish crime series ‘Bullets’ (shown on Telenet) and a leading role in ‘wtFOCK’, the online series of SBS and Telenet, to her supporting role in ‘Ghost Tropic’, the most recent full-length movie by Bas Devos, who made the selection of Quinzaine des Réalisateurs in Cannes in May. The day after our conversation at an Antwerp terrace, she leaves for London, for a fourth and final audition for a lead role in an international film project. “It looks good, but I can't tell you anything about it yet. That’s a tough assignment for me: my whole body really wants to scream. Seriously, I'm pretty much the Moroccan Tom Holland (Spider-Man, and the spoiler king of Marvel's Cinematic Universe). But I'll remain silent!”

How does a large, international production house ends up at your door? Nora Dari: “I started knocking on their door. I'm really not going to sit around and wait for someone to discover me miraculously, so if someone gives me a tip about an interesting movie, I'll go after it myself. I always want more and everything I set my mind to, seems to be working. An international series, ‘wtFOCK’, Cannes with my first film role and now this latest project is also within reach. Can you blame me for believing? In my head, I'm already in Hollywood. First become a Shooting Star at the Berlinale.” Just in between everything? Dari: “You can dream, right? Acknowledgement is not for me - I don't even know who decide such things - but rather, it’s a means to an end. If you end up in the same list of acting prodigies (those Shooting Stars) as Marwan Kenzari, Matteo Simoni and Matthias Schoenaerts, every director knows who you are.” You can also quietly build an acting career in Belgium. Or is that really not an option? Dari: “Why should I linger on a few square meters? My world was so small in Winterslag and now that it’s gradually getting bigger, I really don't know why I should stop at Flanders. Even if ambition is a very dirty word where I come from.”

How? Dari: “Winterslag is a neighborhood where many young people are going into the wrong direction. Big dreams are taboo, apparently. I was bullied, mainly because I wanted to start something with my life. Even if I said that I would one day want to go to New York, I would be laughed at: “Just sit down, Nora! Who do you think you are?”

Keep your head down, keep your nose clean and make sure that you can start working at the age of eighteen: something like that? Dari: *nods* “Graduating and going to work at the age of eighteen seems like quite an achievement in Winterslag. If you hadn't gotten into the wrong shit by then, you would’ve done well. At my school, we had two pupils without an immigration background and otherwise exclusively Turks, Moroccans and Italians from families who were really poor. Our parents worked very hard, you spend a lot of time on the street and bad things sometimes happened. *thinks* There’s a reason why I almost exclusively watch gangstershit movies. I come from a neighborhood where a lot of gangstershit happens. I’ve seen and experienced so many bad things, but at the same time Winterslag is such a big part of who I am and I get very angry when someone else talks about it like I do now. *small laugh*

I’ll buy a house there one day. It’s still my home, all the beautiful things and all the rotten things in one pile. To be clear: I don't want to romanticize my childhood. Winterslag is hard, but nothing to be sad about. There are so many people who have gone through the same thing. Only, it sucks to be called a whore, because you want to do something that is apparently 'not normal'.”

It dawns on me why you once said that Algerian-Canadian Zaho's song Kif'n'dir summed you up quite nicely. Especially the text 'Je fais la morte pour ne pas mourir'. Dari: “That's what I've been doing for a long time. Keeping myself deathly still and don’t stand out too much. In the long run, you also start to believe what others are telling you, that acting is not for you.”

When did you finally stopping ‘being death’? Dari: “When I was fifteen, when I heard that Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah were looking for extras for ‘Patser’. That didn't mean much more than just bumping into Matteo Simoni, but I was sold immediately. In between shots, I approached Adil: “Mr. El Arbi, thank you for opening my eyes. From now on, I’ll go all out for this.” *laughs* We clicked and in the meantime we’ve become friends. I hope he thinks of me when they start recording ‘Patsers’, so that I can show how much I've grown in those two years.”

Not much later, through their casting agency Hakuna, you ended up as a suicide bomber in the Finnish-Belgian Crime series ‘Bullets’. What have I missed? How did you go from a sixteen-year-old extra to such an intense role in a few months? Dari: “I think - if I may say that - they were shocked after my casting. I’ve never thrown myself into a project as hard in my life. Whining. Shouting. Tantrums. All fucking emotions, one after the other. You’ve been looking so long for a Moroccan girl who wants to act and then you get me. *laughs* I've never loved anything as much as acting, so I’m giving everything during a casting. I know that I’m not the best and still have to learn, but I suspect my energy is making up for it. That, and I consider myself a very pleasant colleague. *laughs* I greet everyone in a Genk dialect, always walk around smiling and even bring cookies.

I've always had the feeling that I have to work harder than the rest, because people expect less of me. That's what my father taught my brothers and me. At the Liège boarding school where he studied, he was the only Moroccan in Latin studies: his classmates thought he was weird, because of his origins and the other Moroccans looked at him weirdly, because he aimed higher. "Ah, Mr. pope is back there." In the end it became so unbearable that he enrolled in the TSO (technical school), which was socially accepted.”

How does a 16-year-old feel like a suicide bomber? Dari: “They gave me a background, but I added a few things myself to make it easier. And music helps me really hard too: ‘Qui suis-je’ from Scylla on repeat and then a little method acting in that character. My mother was there on set and apparently got terrified. *laughs* I asked them not to accompany me anymore. When I see them, I come back to myself, while I try very hard to forget myself in front of the camera. I need to be able to get into a role on set. Although it remains very strange to hype yourself up for hours with the mantra 'I'm dying and I'm taking all these people with me'. Fortunately, I can also easily let go. I had to, I had exams the next day. *laughs* Suicide bomber by day, studying economy by night.”

In May you hopped around on the Croisette for the world premiere of ‘Ghost Tropic’. You play the daughter of Khadija, a woman who walks home through Brussels after falling asleep on the metro. Devos makes quiet, poetic arthouse films: it’s a huge leap from teenage series and thrillers. Dari: “It was an adjustment, yes. Before I played in ‘Bullets’, I had never even seen a Flemish film. Not a single one. Or wait: one at school. What was it called? I have to give a speech soon, with its protagonist.”

‘Daens’? With Jan Decleir? Dari: “That one! Everything I had already learned about acting was from Hollywood movies. That enlarged playing style also worked in ‘Bullets’, but when I tried that in ‘Ghost Tropic’, Bas blocked it very quickly. *laughs* "The less you do the better, Nora!" I thought about it all too hard. "Nora, just go." “Yes, but Bas, who am I? What have I been through up to this point?” I have a hard time playing without a backstory in my head.”

Did you learn something from Devos? Dari: “Bas and Maaike Neuville told me in Cannes that I shouldn’t forget to live. I was only busy with what should be my next big step, but I also have to learn to enjoy. Surrendering is nothing dirty, but if I put everything aside for this job, I’ll never be able to put content in my characters. Then they’ll give me a heavy role and I’ll get stuck.”

Sensible advice. Alarm bells already went off when I read in ‘Het Belang van Limburg’ that you certainly wanted to remain celibate until you were 27 and wouldn’t continue your studies, just focussing on your career. Dari: “In the end, I’ll study cross-media management and I’ve come back to that other one as well. *laughs* What?! I’m seventeen, I change my mind completely every month. When I am 40, I don't just want to have a nice IMDb profile to look back on.”

'9000 followers? That is more people than have seen my last film', Devos thought humbly in your Instagram Stories. Dari: “I hope ‘Ghost Tropic’ gets more visitors than I have followers, but I'm not going to bitch if only fifty people come to watch the film in the end. I just like to act and have hardly seen anything from ‘Bullets’ or ‘wtFOCK’ myself. When I'm not on set, I just feel bad. As if I'm not getting the most out of my life.

At the very least, ‘Ghost Tropic’ gave me another experience and I was able to take my father with me, when we went to the Dominican Republic. My grandfather had passed away just before the shoot and we kind of processed that together there, while we were watching the sunrise at five in the morning. A very tender moment. Very cinematic, too. *thinks* I’m a very passionate person. Everything I experience is immediately very big. It’s all hard, good or bad. So hard that I can't always process all the feelings. *dryly* I hope I don't go crazy. I really wouldn't be surprised if that happens.”

You seem to be especially prone to obsessions. Whether it’s making music, painting or acting: if you decide to do something, everything has to make way for it. Dari: “When I got a keyboard, I was immediately very invested in my music. Making beats to accompany my slam poetry, tinkering at night, searching and keeping my parents awake until they went crazy. And then I suddenly got tired of it and started painting. Swimming. Dancing. I also played soccer for a while, mainly to get my dad's attention. During the 'consultation hour' around the tajine I could never have a chat with my brothers and father, because it was only about football and anime.”

Anime? Dari: “The men in my family are all next-level anime fans. They even speak Japanese to each other. *thinks* And I also plunged into my religion for a while, in between football and slam poetry.”

How? Dari: “When the community center closed its doors around the age of 13 and I saw a whole circle of friends go away in one go, I started clinging to something else. So, faith. At that time I also wore a hijab, because I was convinced that you could only be such a good Muslim. I was really pretty strict and took everything way too literally. Today I understand that you mainly have to look for your own interpretation.”

In the meantime, the average 15-year-old is also going through a storm for the second season of wtFOCK, which can be followed daily on Instagram and wtfock.be, good for about 400,000 visitors a week and more than 8 million watched - or at least started - episodes. Significantly more than the first season, although that also had good numbers. Especially for a series that was deliberately launched in silence. “You’re already bombarded with advertising on Instagram, subtle and less subtle,” says Dari, while she tries so intensely to make eye contact with a waiter that he almost bumps into a glass door. “I don't have any big theories about the future of television, but ‘wtFOCK’ really was a relief. It’s on the internet and you mainly do what you want with it. "Ah, I don't have to look?" That unforced approach works. The worst thing that could have happened to us, was that the press started writing about it en masse: it had to remain a bit mysterious and above all belong to the young people themselves. Normally we don't give interviews either: ‘wtFOCK’ is one big bubble that you shouldn't talk too much about.”

Without any illusions about the appeal of Knack Focus to fifteen-year-olds: is this conversation a good idea? Dari: “Sounds okay to me. I’m more now than just Yasmina? And I think fifteen-year-olds do know Knack.”

For real? Dari: “That's the book we get in History as source material in class. *laughs* I think I'll stop giving interviews again after this. A little mystery can't hurt.”

SKAM, the Norwegian series of which ‘wtFOCK’ is a remake, became a hit in its own country. That’s not always the case with foreign remakes, except for the Flemish one. It continues to gain popularity. Do you have an explanation for that? Dari: “No idea why things were less successful in other countries, but ‘wtFOCK’ is so good because it is real. We don't disguise anything, don't pour Hollywood sauce on it and talk like I talk to my friends. Apparently, a lot of teachers also follow the series to get a better understanding of their students. Smart, because we tackle all issues a teenager has in a very realistic way.”

The makers of SKAM were prepared with a tour through its country and a survey of Norwegian teenagers. Their biggest conclusion was: no generation suffers as much from performance pressure and comparison anxiety as yours. Dari: “Social media. Instagram is a very beautiful, but at the same time very scary place. A lot of girls now ask me, for example, how they can also enter this profession. But if you ask them why, it turns out that there’s no passion, they just see it as a fast road to fame. Then join ‘Temptation Island’? They see people like Millie Bobby Brown (from Stranger Things), who is barely fifteen and has a crazy career and they let themselves be hyped about it. I should actually say 'we'. I said it already: I hope I don't go crazy.” *giggles hysterically*

About 1200 teenagers showed up for the casting of wtFOCK, but the makers did not find their Yasmina there. Dari: *nods* “In the end they also had to call Adil, who gave me the tip.”

Why do you think that is? Dari: “I get angry when someone says they want more diversity, but can't find anyone. *throws arms up dramatically* "They aren't there!" They are there. In my neighborhood alone, so much talent is packed together. You may have to do your best to find them, because if you come from a neighborhood where ambition is laughed at, you’ll not find your way to a casting. Because the TV and film world seem so closed off from the outside - and it is. I also didn't know how to do that, I was just lucky that Adil, Nora Gharib and Ikram Aoulad wanted to help me. They helped me avoid a lot of rookie mistakes. And that I won't sign myself up for Temptation Island or something tomorrow.” *laughs*

Gharib also predicted that as a Moroccan woman she would have problems with ‘Patser’. From the moment you do not portray a classic religious Muslim woman, it seems to already lead to commentary. Dari: “I've had my part too. Women who send to me that I brought shame on the entire Moroccan community, for example, because Yasmina doesn't always wear her hijab. Usually these are women who’ve seen two minutes of the series and then get angry without seeing the context. *blows* You know, I don’t care. If my parents and I are okay with it, then no one has anything to say to me. Criticism slips away from me. It really takes more than an angry DM to get me off my path, I come from Winterslag breeding.”

*** Bas Devos, director ‘Ghost Tropic’:

“I had never seen Nora at work, but her audition video immediately made me curious. At the final casting, where she had to improvise a bit, it was already clear to me after a few minutes. She did a beautiful job. Nora is not trained as an actress, but I often work with a combination of non-professional and professional actors. That really doesn't matter to me. It's all about how naturally someone relates to the camera and how relaxed you are while being filmed. Then very beautiful things can happen. And I think she also liked not having to make her character bigger in an understated film like ‘Ghost Tropic’, as that’s sometimes the case for TV. To hear that you are still playing without doing anything.

It's cool how she dares to go for something so outspokenly at such a young age, but I did point out to her that working alone isn’t the perfect solution. She’s very fond of that international career, but it is also easy to walk into a wall there. Seventeen-year-olds have to live, right? Well, she's sensible enough, I'm not worried. She'll eventually find the right balance. At the end of the shooting period, she said she hoped we could work together again. I told her that I hope she still likes it by then. *laughs* Who knows which films will she be in then.”

#wtfock #wtfam #older article

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Halloween

Right after 5x01 with Reid and Hotch both pulling away, Morgan and Emily take matters into their own hands.

“I don’t want to.”

Morgan, who up until that point, had really, truly believed that the worst of his year was behind him closes his eyes with a tired sigh. As if the pig farm hadn’t felt suffocating on its own, now it’s tangled in his mind with Foyet. The pigs, Mason, that poor girl, and Hotch. Because that terrible night hadn’t ended for Hotch as it had for the rest of them. They slept while Hotch lay on his apartment floor, his own blood soaking into his clothes. The hospital hadn’t even washed the dried blood from his hair by the time the team arrived.

Emily had the next day. It had taken Derek and Emily both to do the seemingly mindless task. Hotch had been uncomfortable, dirty and the nurses had given them the leeway to tackle the task together. And they were both very aware of how annoyed he was to have to succumb to their help. Hotch can hardly raise his arms to his waist, he wasn’t going to be washing his one hair. And as the oldest of his own siblings and still leaning heavily into that protective mindset, Morgan would heavily prefer it to be him there. So, bracing Hotch’s side with his own body, Derek had held Hotch upright while Emily gently scrubbed his hair clean of his blood.

The scent thick and acidic but slowly replaced with a smell distinctly hospital-like. The water had browned, the suds too dirty to even help only about halfway through. Standing there, Hotch’s body growing heavier and shaking gently against Morgan’s ribs he could see every bone in his boss’s back. And, too soon, they had to call it quiets. The monitors were picking up, distraught with the pain Hotch had hidden so well. His heart missing beats as Morgan had eased his head back into the pillows.

Emily standing there, white as a ghost, with that bucket of water. Hotch was only half-aware of them and their intentions by then. Watching Morgan behind half-lidded eyes and lips pale and parted as he took a dry rag through his hair. Morgan’s mother had always told him that going out in the cold with wet hair would give you pneumonia and while he had never known anyone to get pneumonia like that he wasn’t going to take any chances. Even if they were in a temperature-controlled hospital room.

And through all of that, Hotch had made it. Slowly, through shrieking monitors and more than one scare, alive. A fucking miracle.

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?” It’s Halloween. For as long as Morgan has known Reid, it’s been his favorite holiday. Hell, everyone knows it’s his favorite holiday. Even Hotch gets a little festive in the name of bringing even the faintest smile to Reid’s face. The idea for today, a party to celebrate Halloween, had been done with Reid specifically in mind. Being cooped up in this apartment isn’t good for him.

Reid who hasn’t actually looked at Morgan since he came in, twirls the frayed ends of his blanket around his finger. “I don’t want to,” he repeats. It’s one thing to mop about in this apartment. Here, no one watches him struggle to move. No one looks too hard, too long at his ill-practiced steps. At the crutches tucked under his scrawny arms. Worse is that if he goes, he can’t take his crutches. He’ll have to the stupid wheelchair in his room. Whos open seat is a crookedly carved leather smile, taunting him.

Morgan shakes his head and keeps at his current project. For the past week (has it been a week? He isn’t certain) he’s done nothing but tidies up every space around him. Having attacked Hotch’s apartment-- tearing up that blood-stained carpet, patching the hole in the wall, fixing a leaky faucet in the guest room, and cleaning out his worryingly empty fridge-- he’s come to Reid’s. The thing is Reid is going to make this process a little harder. There are bits and pieces of Reid in every corner of his apartment. Not self-deprecatingly bare like Hotch’s. Here, he can’t disrupt the way books lie because they all have been sectioned and left where they are with purpose. There is a purpose to his chaos more meaningful than Hotch’s out of sight out of mind.

“Well, you have to go.”

Reid frowns, biting his lip to refrain from whining. Despite having done more by his current twenty-four-years of age than any of them, they still treat him like a child. And while any of them might be forgiven for a bit of childish refusal he won’t be. Well, in all fairness, he is prone to a bit more childish things than they are. Reid had to be forced to go to the doctor’s for a check-up after getting anthrax and all because he had thought they might ask to do blood tests. What had made him go, in the end? Morgan taking Reid himself. It was humiliating but when they draw blood Morgan had offered his hand and Reid had taken it.

Now, Morgan’s just asking for a favor. For Reid to suck it up, just this once. To have fun and be easy. “Hotch is only coming because he’s under the impression this is all for you.” And it is, all for Reid. None of them care about Halloween. Hotch least of all. But the two of them are going to go crazy cooped up on their own.

Of course, that’s only mostly true.

It’s entirely Morgan and Emily’s idea.

“Okay,” Reid sighs, scratching self-conscious at his scalp. “I just…” he shoves the blankets off his legs. “Just need a few minutes.” A shower. He needs a shower and, if he’s granted the time for it, a pity nap.

Morgan hums, head bent to his current task of cleaning Reid’s strangely large collection of mugs lining his counter. “As long as you need,” he mumbles.

Two years ago, if someone sat David Rossi down and told him that on a Saturday in October he’d be celebrating Halloween as a fully grown man... he wouldn’t believe them. Add in the fact that he would be doing this because it’s a twenty-something-year-old genius’s favorite holiday and he’s doing it to lighten the mood of his old prodigy… well, he’d consider himself senile.

He should have stayed retired.

As of the last month, he’s been thinking that a lot. Don’t get him wrong, he loves the little ragtag team Aaron’s created in his absence but they're a little crazy and trouble magnets-- Emily and Reid attempt at a second Waco with Benjamin Cyrus, the bombing in New York, and George Foyet. All within the span of a year. He’s only heard about some of the other things they did before he came back.

These freaking kids are crazy.

“Will you just listen to me,” Dave is multi-tasking. Aside from picking out comfortable clothes for the evening he also has got to swindle Hotch into coming out to the party. “For once in your life, Aaron, just listen to me.” As dramatic as that may sound, it’s kind of fair. Even when they prodigy and mentor, Aaron had a flair for taking Dave’s instructions in one ear and out the other.

“Dave,” comes Aaron’s soft rebuttal. He’s exhausted. Much to his chagrin, three days rest has done nothing to mend the bone-tired ache in his body. Add the depression he can feel settling across his sternum and the way his ribs feel like they’re being pried open… He has no interest in watching his team get drunk at Dave’s house. Call him a buzzkill or a killjoy to heart’s content, that’s not going to change his mind.

Besides, the last thing he needs is to start himself into a bad habit of drinking every time he’s sad. Then what? He starts himself down a road of addiction. He comes to work drunk. Derek tries to say something. Dave is worried. He gets fired. He’s no better than his own father.

Rossi’s voice softens, any of the agitation previously in his voice is gone. “Aaron,” he calls through the speaker. “I’m not asking. Emily’s on her way right now to come to get you.” He sighs under his breath, just tired, not even mad. “You can make that hard for her,” Dave offers, knowing that’s what Hoch is going to be inclined to do. “I think we both know she deserves a break from that, though.”

Hotch feels the defeat pull his shoulders down. He’s been an asshole lately. Logically, he knows it’s a progression of all the emotions he’s feeling and burying. Emily doesn’t hate him for that but he knows she’s starting to feel overwhelmed by it. And given how successful his other attempts at pushing everyone else away has been, he might just owe her a little reprieve. To do this one thing without an entire battle.

“I’ll… I’ll be there.”

Dave smiles on the other side of the line, content with himself. “Thank you, Aaron. I will see you there, kiddo.”

It’s always the smartest people that fall for the simplest tricks.

Unlike Derek, Emily does feel bad about their plan. Logically, she’s very aware of how beneficial it’s going to be. If they don’t invite themselves over, Reid won’t ask anyone to come. Which means that he’s got to be getting his meals some other way. The thing is, if he were getting them delivered by a friend unknown to his team members, there should be something left over. Food in his fridge or trash in his garbage can. But there’s nothing.

Why does love have to be so difficult? How is it that some people understand it and others are stunningly unaware? Somehow wrapping their pretty little heads around this idea that they are undeserving or tricksters for having tricked someone into caring about them. If they didn’t love Reid would they feverishly watch over him? Did he really consider himself that sinister? That malicious? That he could trick profilers into loving him? Let it be clear, there is no trick. They are not so foolish and he not so unlovable.

“Derek, I think we might--”

Reid’s wobbly. He’s not yet mastered the crutches (at all). His practice comes only from the hospital and then his instructions had been brief before he was sent down the hall. A nurse just needing to see he could maneuver them and that they were at the right height. So, as bitter as he is to admit it, Derek’s lightly placed hand on the small of his back is very helpful.

Turning to see Emily, Reid lurches dangerous and Morgan moves quickly to stop him from falling. Just behind them, SUV pulled up onto Rossi’s lawn as close as she could pull it up, Emily is helping Hotch out of the car. Even from here, he can hear the lowered grumbling shared between the two. Despite being unable to see Hotch except for one brief moment, Reid’s glad to at least hear the other man. Him and Emily clipping rough comments back and forth. Bordering on rude but it’s between them and they’ve always let one another slide in these areas.

Vaguely he can piece together that they’re arguing about whether or not Morgan’s help is needed. “--wheelchair, that you made me leave-- I will take you back-- walker-- asshole!” Despite how angrily they nip back and forth, it’s all in what they don’t say. Hotch falls into Emily’s guiding step. Not even breaking from his own comment as her hand comes around his hips and effortlessly supports his weight as they take a step up. Neither taking the blow below the belt to note how Hotch’s words get cut off by a hardly contained whimper of pain or how choked his quick, distressed breathing becomes.

Morgan’s help is needed but Emily is too focused on keeping Hotch’s feet firmly planted on the ground and Hotch too worried about not busting his ass on the ice.

Reid jerks as Dave’s front door is thrown open. One hand on his hip, an apron over his chest, he shakes his head at the sight of the four of them. “I can hear you two arguing like children from in the house!” he shouts. He steps out onto the porch, tucking the towel in his hand into his pants. “Grown adults out here acting like children!” There is an unmistakable David Rossi laced fondness in his tone. That, despite his haste movements and dry frown, is taken as such because they know him. And he knows Hotch and Emily well enough to know this would happen.

“Get yourselves inside,” Rossi’s entire body changes when he sees Morgan and Reid. A simple passing hand down Morgan’s back for encouragement. “There’s root beer in the bottom drawer in the fridge, have Henry get you one!”

Reid smiles, suddenly excited for this afternoon. Root beer is… it’s the keystone of his childhood. There was not a matter he and his mother couldn’t handle with a little root beer. And while he doesn’t indulge himself often with that luxury (still some part of his brain fails to comprehend that he has the money to get it) Dave always has it. Hearing that Henry is here, implying Will and JJ too, he feels himself growing giddy. Pleased. He can’t wait to talk to them. For Will to hit his shoulder with his fist just a little too hard and to rustle his hair. JJ hovering and laughing. Henry. Smiling laughing.

Dave keeps going.

His frowning turning into a small while Hotch’s dark eyes find him, a glint of hope. “Our poor hero,” Dave greets in a half-jab at Hotch. He cups the younger man’s cheek, smiling at him. “I assume Emily has been her cruel and unusual self?” Once again, another jab. It’s a perfect balance. He neither takes Emily’s side (exhausted by Hotch’s antics) nor Hotch’s (exhausted by Emily’s antics).

They both scoff, at both implications.

“Hotch is being an asshole,” Emily grumbles, childishly sticking her tongue out at him. “Per his usual self.”

Hotch turns to Dave and returns, “to answer your question, yes she is.”

Wedged between Dave and Emily, Hotch makes it to the porch. Emily only hits him once. Once. He deserved it.

“Would you two behave?”

They get all of two steps in before JJ puts a stop to it. You see, no one ever listens to Dave. Not once has anyone ever listened to Hotch but JJ. No, to JJ, they always listen. And with a slow final few blows, Hotch and Emily stop bickering.

“Now,” JJ has flour on her chest. An honor which means Rossi has let her within his kitchen. “Go sit,” she points to the living room, stepping aside to let them through. “Behave yourselves or I’m not letting you eat until you hug and tell each other you love one another.” Her grandmother used to force that punishment on JJ and her sister as children. Cruel, she had thought then, but JJ has learned it to be very useful. As they pass, she hears them both grumble something about Hotch’s mostly liquid diet and how Emily doesn’t think that’s very fair. JJ throws her own towel at their heads. It’s well worth the shared smirk of mischief shared between Hotch and Emily.

Little deviants, she thinks with an eye roll. It’s Halloween so she lets it slide.

In the living room, Reid and Hotch are left while the others fight over one another in the kitchen. The clatter is heard through the whole house. Morgan making Garcia laugh, a barking sound that draws a smile from Reid. Joyous. Emily lightly teasing Rossi for what she teases is new greying in his hair. She asks if he’d like her to dye it for him the next time he gets his hair colored. Her triumphant laughter is just as freeing.

“Hotch?”

Beaten by the effort it took to walk all the way to the living room, Hotch had mostly succumbed to his placement on in the lazyboy. A chair, in which, he had never sat once in all the years he’d visited Dave’s. But the recliner is large and he can easily lean to support his side. Keeping an arm wrapped around his aching side. Without opening his eyes, head tilted back he hums. “Yeah?”

Reid’s knee is carefully surrounded by pillows. Even if it’s jostled, it’s fully supported in every direction. He’d been sitting here, watching Hotch’s face steadily grow blank. Masking his pain. He’d wanted to know if Hotch too had been tricked into coming. But then, as Morgan, followed closely by Garcia and the others, step in and Reid finds he doesn’t actually need to know. Hotch came, didn’t he? Left the safety of his dark apartment in favor of their boisterous company. Of little Henry in his Spiderman costume and Garcia and her own elaborate Harry Potter costume.

Derek hands Reid a plate, mostly finger foods a bit of pasta. His plate mirrors Henry’s. While the other’s all eat healthy amounts of pasta. Will sneaks him a napkin, which confuses him, until Will covers his hand over Reid’s and whispers “there are eight Oreos in this napkin”. Sweets, which JJ and Garcia had deprived him until he cleaned his plate. And when JJ caves, Reid’s stomach full of the carrots, crackers, and grapes his plate had primarily had (as well as those Oreos), and brings him a slice of pie and ice cream Will only shakes his head with a smirk.

Hotch manages a few spoonful's of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup.

“You could eat something else,” Dave ventures, scowling. But Hotch’s body is very displeased and what little solid food he’d managed to eat in the last few days was having a tendency to come right back up. Abdominal trauma, the doctor’s kept informing them, often caused this. They just needed to wait it out.

“He’s got the palate of a toddler,” Emily mumbles but she means it fondly. She punctuates it by throwing a carrot at his head. He doesn’t have the dexterity to swat it out of the air so it hits his head and he just scowls at her.

Reid sides with Hotch. “Chicken noodle soup is the best soup,” he offers in Hotch’s defense. Blushing when Hotch just looks sadly at him, as if broken by the idea that Reid is the only person left to defend him.

“It is,” Garcia tries to add, helpfully. She smiles encouragingly to Hotch but once again he takes them siding with him poorly. If all the sympathy he can garner is from Reid and Garcia, he’s hopeless. He loves them dearly but they effortlessly take his side. “And you leave my boss man alone! If he wants to eat chicken noodle soup then you let him.”

Hotch hums to that, quirking an eyebrow at Garcia, and looking down at Emily. Of all the places for her to sit, she’d chosen the floor. With a whole floor to choose from, she still sat down right at his feet. Resting her back against his shins. Which he didn’t mind but he knew she’d done it just to annoy him.

Henry grows tired of his adult company and with the sun falling, he knows what’s coming. Even at three, he’s aware of what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Go on,” Hotch encourages. He knows they’re only holding back for two reasons: Reid and him. But Henry shouldn’t suffer just because he managed to piss off the one Unsub brave enough to attack him and Reid unfortunate enough to get shot. “We won’t go anywhere. I’ll put on Doctor Who,” he bargains. “Reid won’t go anywhere.” But it’s not really Reid they’re worried about. “I’ll take a nap,” he offers. Which is what his body needs but he’s not so sure he’ll actually commit to that.

“Don’t move.” Emily orders.

“I’ll make sure he stays put,” Reid says, with a nod. But given how stupid they both are, Emily loves the commitment but doesn’t take the offer too seriously. Hotch with a blanket tucked over his legs and Reid happily humming away to the Doctor Who theme song, they’re left to the silence of Dave’s house. The others out taking Henry around the block for some trick or treating.

Hotch does take that nap and Reid contently gets sucked into Doctor Who. Content in ways they both thought were only possible locked away in their own misery.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #will lamontagne #david rossi #henry jareau

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sinqrowithascythe · 3 years

Text

Torn Families, a RWBY story

Hello there! it has been a few days now and the story is ready, so here it is!

Just a warning first though, this story does feature gore, character deaths and angst.

Everyone had their reasons for attending Beacon academy, and most would tell you without so much as a second thought.

“As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the story books... Someone who fought for what was right, and protected people who couldn't protect themselves!” Ruby Rose, 15yr old combat prodigy and leader of team RWBY.

Others, however, aren’t as comfortable in disclosing the truth about their circumstances, like: The beautiful, yet closed off Blake Belladonna, Faunus in hiding and secret Ex-White Fang agent.

“The White Fang is hardly a bunch of psychopaths. They're a collection of misguided Faunus.”

Most would assume that this is where the list ends, but there is another. A third option, or category, where they’ve been truthful but they just haven’t shared the full truth.

This is where the scraggly hero of our fable is found.

When asked for the reasons behind which Jaune Arc has strived to be a Hunter and train in Beacon (which is a regular occurrence among the student body, it’s pretty obvious why), our bumbling blonde will reply with something along the lines of “To become a hero” …. “To become a great Hunter, like the warriors in my family” or “To help people” which is true….

But…there’s more to it, there always is.

Rarely does someone ever question the reason he chose this path or after any event that led to such a decision, but it does happen occasionally. Some of the first conversations with his friends and even Ms. Goodwitch herself raised the question, with Jaune himself being quick to dismiss it or just repeat himself. Forcing the subject to be left alone question, with, replacing the young Arcs would-be interrogators interests with dissatisfaction and a quick change of topic. This is where the truth remains hidden, a burden laid heavily on our young Knight’s shoulders, where he intends to keep them.

But that wouldn’t make an interesting story, so here we go!

This tale sheds light upon that which our very own Jaune Arc would keep hidden, partially for the sake of his friends, but also to keep Jaune from crying himself to sleep… again…

Long before Jaune was launched from the school’s cliff faces into the emerald forests or the acquisition of his “Vomit Boy” moniker, as courtesy of Yang, the Arc found a burning resolve to fight the creatures of Grimm and protect those who could not protect themselves that rivalled the very star he stood under.

The Arc family estate was a large, dark brick house held deep within a forest, found on an island located beyond the western coast of Sanus. Close enough to still be considered a part of the kingdom, but also far enough for people to be left in relative peace from large city environments, bandits and any extremely dangerous Grimm.

Here, the Arc family lived and prospered, laughed and loved for days and years on end, with the only real worries being the evil bath times and dreaded bedtimes, family’s patriarch receiving minor wounds from guarding the small island village (But everyone just said he looked cooler anyway, so it’s a win!) or the sisters engaging into yet another fight over something that seemed to shake the very foundations of reality to them at the time.

“That’s MY hairbrush!!”

“You have, like, 10, just let me borrow this one!”

The house was run by the matriarch and the eldest of the sisters when their father was away, keeping Grimm from presenting danger to the village where they lived. The younger sisters and Jaune often played their days away, when their mother wasn’t home schooling them in the study where she spent most of her time, even outside the education of her children.

One sunny, beautiful day, with the sun was streaming through the leaves and trees and bringing light and life to all the woodland, waking to every insect, animal and plant found within, this family would be shattered.

The green glow of the forest created a feeling similar to a protective aura of warmth and protection. Here, the four youngest Arcs find themselves running past all manner of compassionate and cool streams with looming, yet comforting trees, hiding amidst the natural playground formed by the rocks of landslides long past and prickly piles of twigs that once held strong to their larger companions. The day was not unlike any other the children had been allowed to previously play in, perfect.

The juvenile Arcs were playing their usual rounds of “Hide and Seek” or “Tag” or some of their own invention, when the eldest of the assembled four found an oddity, one which had never caught her attention before. The Arc estate held no boundaries, save the forest itself as it was separated by a long stripe of a field before another forest began, not five meters away from their own, yet the children had never travelled, nor noticed this odd circular emptiness beyond their own patch of trees. “Yeah, that is weird” The three younger members of the Arc clan agreed, “Let’s try playing in that other forest! I bet there’ll be even better hiding spots and even bigger trees to play in!”

And so, they did just that.

Back at the Arc family homestead

The eldest four daughters of the house were treated to a rather large shock while preparing lunch as their mother had, seemingly from no-where, screeched “NOO!” like a banshee might and flung herself out of her chair, falling to their kitchen floor. You see, Jaune’s mother was paralysed, on the account that after her thighs reached halfway down, they were missing, an incident that predated Jaune’s memory and of which she refused to speak, hoping she never had to tell her children and shatter their innocence. And though it placed her within a wheel chair that stopped her from performing the tasks that the oldest of the Arc spawn find themselves occupied with most days, her smile was as radiant and genuine as when her first child was born, finding real purpose in her role as a mother.

Each did their best to help their fallen mother, only to be thrown aside, much harder than they even knew their mother could push. “One of you, run to the village wall as fast as you can, find your father, tell him that Jaune and the triplets have left the stave!”

“Why?” “What does that mean?” “Huh?” Each questioned, their faces twisted with confusion and fear.

“Just GO! Right now! We don’t have time!” The oldest among the females of the home all but roared at her children, her terror evident on her face, scaring the 4 younger women. Pushing her fear aside, the eldest to ran out the door and sprinted down the trail into the town, where the guard and her father stood vigilantly, while her younger two sisters helped their mother back into her chair and checked to see what had happened.

“Mom, what’s happening?” “You scared us” “Why’d you tell Saph to get dad?”

“I’m fine, but your siblings are in danger…”

“How? We thought they were playing outside” “Yeah, they play in the forest every day! Why’s it so dangerous all of a sudden?”

“Hmmmmm…. The forest that surrounds the house is… special, you’ve seen how there’s something of a circle-like-field around the house cutting us of from the rest of the woods?” She questioned, obviously impatient and uncomfortable, much to the dismay of her daughters, never before seeing her so scared in their lives.

“Yeah” “uh-huh” They replied in kind.

“Well, your mother has a special power and can sense, and almost see, what happens in this circle, if you can imagine” Chuckling the last part, the nerves still very present in her voice. “Normally, your siblings always play in this circle, where it’s safe and where I can see them, but, because we live so far from town the woods next to ours can be filled with scary, dangerous creatures. I don’t know why, but, the triplets and Jaune have wandered into that forest and your father needs to find them, before something bad can happen.” looking away through the kitchen window, into the picturesque scene of the serene forest outside.

Meanwhile, Jaune and his elder sisters were playing a renewed game of tag in their new playground, their eldest sister rushing for her father, while the three under her found comfort in their mother, as a new found fear grew for their youngest sibling’s lives. This new version of tag involved a “Strength in Numbers” strategy, where the title of tag didn’t pass on to another player after contact, but spread so that the match only ended when everyone was ‘it’, basically creating two teams of ever-growing chasers and continually dwindling chase-ies.

Jaune, despite taking part and enjoying himself immensely in the game, found himself growing rather nervous, as he could have sworn, he had heard his mother mention not to go into the forest beyond their own at some point before, but none of his sisters could remember and said he just imagined it. Which inevitably led to them teasing him and saying he was a “Scaredy cat!” which, to a seven-year-old boy, was an offence of the highest order. So, with new resolve and determination, Jaune played with his sisters in the forest, running deeper and deeper into the unknown woods, finding a new and magical parts of the surrounding nature with each new game.

Nothing, it seemed, could go wrong for out four young Arcs, however, we all know what follows these kinds of observations.

The fight had started as nothing more than a simple debate. “I SO DID tag you!”

“Nu-uh! You only got my dress!”

“Did not! I tapped your shoulder! You’re it too now!” “Nu-uh” “So, too!”

This repeated for a few minutes, the two eldest of the triplets bickered back and forth until…

“Jaune!” Both shouted in unison, the fire in their eyes and voices startling the poor boy “Y-yeah?” His anxiety growing, as each girl looked ready to throttle one another all the way home.

“I totally got her, right!?” “No, she sooo missed me, you saw right!?”

“Uhhh…” Was his only response. Truth be told, Jaune hadn’t seen the incident in question, he was too busy trying not to get caught himself, he only came up to them when he saw they were fighting again, wanting to help.

“C’mon! I’m fine, right!?” “No, I definitely caught her!”

Jaune was not comfortable in this situation. In fact, he was scared, scared that his sisters were fighting and felt useless that he couldn’t do anything about it. This is until an idea came across his mind.

“What about Rock, Paper, Scisso-!” “AAAGGGHHH!!!” The high, piercing wail that blocked Jaune’s solution had come as a shock to everyone. They were all frozen in place, the fear and pain that filled that scream had turned them all to stone. And a sudden realization donned upon Jaune, one that only seemed to strengthen the anxiety currently lacing his blood.

“W-w-wait, th-there’s only three of u-us here…” Upon a quick count, they found that they were, indeed, one sibling short. “The scream must have come from her! We have to find her, she’s in trouble!”

“Maybe she just found a big spider! She’s terrified of them!” The oldest of the group stated, a fact which was well known within the Arc household.

“We just have to find her and get her away from wherever she found it!” The younger of the girls offered. This conclusion helped each of them relax, as spiders were the most dangerous of the creatures that they knew to inhabit the forests that surround their home. It brought them comfort, but they weren’t in their woodlands anymore.

They moved quickly towards the origin of their sister’s scream, until they unfortunately found her.

In a small secluded area of the forest, a clearing in the trees where the river widened considerably and was surrounded by large stones that easily dwarf the giant that was their father (as far as they were concerned), where the sun seemed to shine atop the water so bright that you could swear it was fragmented like the moon and resided in the river itself. This was where they found her.

However, the beauty of nature wasn’t what made them stop, nor was it the sight of their sister happily frolicking in the water after overcoming her original fear and relief flooding the trio of loving family members. No, it was the exact opposite to all those beautiful and much more preferable sights (Hell, they’d prefer to have found a spider, really).

What stood in the clearing, over their sister, was a monster.

A monster so dark, it made the moonless night sky seem bright. With markings so red, the blood that splattered its maw seemed pale by comparison. All of this packed onto a fur-skinned nightmare product between man and wolf. And their sister… stuck underneath.

No, stuck wasn’t the right word.

The creature didn’t hold her down, it didn’t need too, the girl below it simply couldn’t move. She was missing large chunks of her little body. They could see her shoe on the other side of the clearing, her foot still occupying it. A few feet from her there was some bloody assortment of meat, maybe something from inside, no-one could tell. Her neck had also seemed to disappear and had replaced itself with bloody chunks of something.

Each child, each one that still had a beating heart, remained completely still. No movement, no thought and no emotion, still enough were to make a statue jealous. The shock they felt was all they could feel, their brains refusing to process the sight before them. The first to break free of the paralysing chains holding his mind was Jaune, still looking into the large, half lidded and dull eyes of his older sister. The eyes that had once been so full of colour and everything right with the world, Jaune had found comfort and happiness in those eyes’ countless times before, being the two youngest of the family had created a close and tight bond between the two. And now, they laid in the red, stained grass, upside-down, staring at him with nothing, endless nothing, a perfect void, drained of any and all life.

Fear and sadness welled within Jaune, faster than the tears that had decided to occupy his eyes could, with his sister’s emotions following in turn.

The negativity had come crashing out of them in waves, comparable to a landslide, only cursing them further. This alerted the creature, its posture bolting upright slouching over the corpse of the young girl turned lunch. It turned at the waist, revealing just how long its arms really were, easily twice Jaune himself, each one holding a different end of the girl’s right arm. What was most terrifying was its canine-shaped head. The lupine resemblance almost uncanny, the bloody maul full of teeth as long as it’s claws and wet with a liquid that Jaune tried his best to forget the source of. The ears atop the skull of the creature pointed toward the sky, looked sharp and swivelled around, until stopping, pointed at the children.

What scared them the most were its eyes, the cold, harsh eyes that were the antithesis of its prey. Where the girl’s eyes had been full of life, joy and hope, the creature’s own orbs reflected hate, despair and death. It’s fitting really, that the eyes of love and hope had been filled with the deepest and most alluring of azure blues and the ones that killed them were as red and terrifying as hell itself would be.

The creature dropped its piece of lunch on top of the rest of its forgotten meal and lowered itself onto all fours, its impossibly long arms stretched forwards and its rear in the sky behind it, as a low yet rumbling growl escaped from between its teeth. Now, instead of pure shock rooting our children to the ground, it was the very fear and anxiety that told the beast they were there. And, in the space it took for Jaune let go of the breath his fear forced him to hold, the creature pounced.

In the few precious seconds, it took for Jaune to turn and push his sisters, the nightmare before then had covered the distance between them and stood right behind Jaune. This registered for Jaune as three large, ragged, diagonal cuts in his tiny back. Falling into the grass of the forest, quickly watching the green around him fill with his own red.

The creature ran after the girls, desperately attempting to flee, knowing its second victim had no chance of moving now. The two remaining girls were screaming and running, terrified of the lupine monstrosity behind them, not knowing that the very fear fuelling their escape them was exactly what made them even more delicious prey.

Jaune watched from his position, chin first in the dirt, as the beast caught up to them and doubled their pace, springing forward and turning to face his sisters, seeing the very same claw that had Jaune glued to the ground tear one of them in half, before she could even stop running. Her pieces staining the grass red in front of her remaining sister. The final sibling came to a stop before the stalking nightmare. Sobbing messily, she looked up from her tattered sister into the eyes of the monster that killed some of the best people in her life and seemingly paralysed her only brother. She began to beg, praying to the brother gods that, by some miracle, some stretch of the universe, that she would survive and make it home to her loving mother, sisters and father.

Her prayers and begs fell upon deaf ears as the beast shot forward, grabbed her temples between the daggers that made up its teeth and separated the top half of her head, sounding off with a sickening crunch mixed with a strangled cry of pain and torment.

And just dropped her body to the ground, discarding her like a toddler drops a toy they’re bored with.

Jaune watched the entire scene in front of him, unable to move or even think, terrified beyond all action or comprehensible thought, not that the he would have been able to move anyway, as the creature made its way closer to him, no longer moving in leaps or flashes, but walking, as its prey was rendered immobile by the large injury in its back. Jaune closed his eyes, tightening them as he braced for the pain he knew was coming, just as it had come for his sisters.

Jaune was so focused on biting back anything he felt and so drowned in his own fear and blood, that he didn’t hear the gut-wrenching scream of agony and desperate sorrow. Nor did he hear the heavy foot falls as something approached him and the beast, racing from elsewhere. What he did hear was the sound of his father’s shield deflecting the bloodstained claws, he heard and watched as his father, blinded by pure animosity and heartache forced the creature of death back and, eventually, decapitate it. In that moment, time had seemed to freeze, Jaune saw the fury and heartbreak on his father’s face, twisted into a cruel grimace, the image burned into his memory, alongside the corpses of his sisters.

Time only began to move again as Jaune’s father let out another cry, louder than all his previous screams, as he began to hack, slash and break any part of the Grimm before him, only stopping when its corpse had fully dissipated, as all Grimm do.

Only then did his father stop, drop his weapons and fall to his knees, weeping at the loss of his four youngest children, screaming and sobbing with his face in the dirt, almost seeming to burrow into it, wanting to find the blood of his children. Jaune watched as his father broke apart, small pieces at a time, tears flowing down his face, almost unending. But, as all things must ends, so too did the tears, sniffles and sobs of the town guard, his face steeled into a grimace of loss and sorrow, the piece of himself being replaced with a resolve, a vow to return his children to their home and never let thing happen again.

The Patriarch of the Arc family stood to survey the damage done to his blood. And here he froze, seeing the unsteady rising and falling of his son’s chest, missing pieces being filled properly again as new tears of joy and relief flood the father’s features. Sprinting to the wounded boy’s side, screaming his name and asking question he already knew the answer to, Jaune’s father dropped to his knees once again, but this time to help his damaged son, searching himself and the land around for any way to comfortably bring his son home. With the frantic search proving to be utterly fruitless, he simply, yet gently, picked Jaune from the ground and placed him on his unarmed shoulder.

Jaune’s father began the trek back to the family home, creating false promises, repeating apologies and crying, for the duration of the trip, moving as fast as possible, without causing the silent boy on his shoulder any more pain that what was already silencing him.

Jaune, however, heard none of these promises, “sorry” ‘s or sobs, only seeing the gleaming, blood-spattered shield, collapsed around the sword at his father’s hip, only able to focus on the warmth his father spread and the thought “That would have been useful” while staring at the blade’s handle, before the pain took his consciousness from him.

Jaune spent the next few days drifting to and from the conscious world.

He knew that he had been taken home, he remembered hearing gasps and cries upon his return, pain from the dressing of his wounds and more crying. Curiously enough, he also heard shouting, which would be normal enough in a house of ten... now seven. But this was different, most shouting normally came from his sisters, arguing about one thing or another or when his parents needed to discipline them, these bouts of shouting, however, came from his parents. They seemed to be arguing over something called “aura…?” Jaune wasn’t sure what if was or even if it was a word, but he did hear his mother scream “I CAN’T LET WHAT HAPPENED TO ME HAPPEN TO THEM, ESPECIALLY HIM!!” To which his father pleaded. “CAN’T YOU SEE IT ALREADY HAS, WE CAN’T LEAVE HIS LIFE IN DANGER JUST BECAUSE YOU FEEL HE SHOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT YOUR PAST OR THR WORLD!!” This is where the screaming stopped, hearing only loud and quiet sobbing and whispering coming from wherever the shouting had. All he really knew was that it scared him.

Jaune also remembered a doctor coming from town once or twice during those days. It was probably more, but he couldn’t stay awake half the time, what with the pain in his back knocking him out every few minutes after he woke.

It wasn’t until a week and a half had passed since the deaths of his family members that Jaune regained consciousness properly. He awoke to the tearstained face of his mother, the tears seeming to have cut long furrows down her face. She almost squealed with joy upon being woken up by her son trying to brush the tears from her face, the pure elation of her son being alive and awake causing more water to leaks from her eyes.

When the rest of Jaune’s remaining family burst into the room, each had similar reactions upon seeing his mother hugging him gently, with him awake this time. Which was then preceded by the inevitable questions, Jaune explaining everything, each detail clear in his mind, when the tears from his own eyes didn’t impede his speech as the emotions finally caught up to him. Often his family sat together for hours at a time, waiting for Jaune to finish crying before he continued.

No harsh accusations followed his tale, nor any blame, simply hugs, tears and promises from his family.

After that day the house flowed back into normalcy, albeit quieter, until three full years had finally passed. The wounds Jaune had received were not lethal nor debilitating, the claws not digging deep enough and missing anything important along his spine, “a small miracle!” The town doctor had claimed.

The town’s people had helped organise and set up, even pay for the funerals. Everyone knew the Arc children and none showed any particular hatred, only the same small loving-malice that followed mischievous children’s pranks and activities. Any and all real hate was directed towards the Grimm that resided in the forest, evident by the furious stares many levelled towards the trees beyond thew village walls.

Eventually, the dull gleam that seemed to cover the eyes of each family member, the same gleam that held the stars and oceans contained within their eyes at bay, disappeared as they could finally move on.

But, never forgetting.

Whenever the children played, they were always supervised, never left alone. Their father had managed a change in occupation and now worked from home as a writer of sorts. Their mother had grown more possessive of her family and Jaune’s elder sisters followed this attitude when it came to him, never letting him be by himself. At first, Jaune was okay with this, even feeling happy and safe from this caged lifestyle due to having seen the reason for its inception.

However, this did not last. Whenever Jaune had asked about the creature, his father only bitterly replied to ask his mother, to which she would say “an evil creature, but, as long as you stay here, you’ll be safe and not have to worry about it”. This never sated Jaune’s mind, but, was the only definition either parent would ever give him. When Jaune would ask to be trained like his father, to protect and kill the “Evil creatures” in the forest, his mother would shoot the idea down in the exact same way, forever denying combat to her remaining children. On this, his parents agreed and Jaune began to lose his feeling of comfort in his protective cage.

Jaune would eventually learn more of his family’s legacy through omitted records of their deeds in the study and from stories his mother told her children and discovers his own drive to become one of the Arc heroes, prompting him to become a Huntsman, despite his great lack of knowledge on the topic (What’s worse is that he doesn’t know just how much he doesn’t know about it).

He finds a way into Beacon and creates some of the best memories he’s ever had, the best friends he’s ever had and even a new family.

And everything happens as we know it will. Friendship. Growth. Happiness. Accomplishment. The Fall. And new beginnings.

--------------------------------

Hiya again!

thank you for reading my first actual piece of RWBY fanfiction. I made this concept up a few years ago, back when I was (possibly) obsessed with why Jaune knew so little of the world around him, despite a lot of it being vital to being a Huntsmen, So i wrote this little number (I don't know why i made it so dark of a story, but eh).

After rediscovering it, I thought I'd fix it up and post it here and thus, here we are indeed.

I know this doesn't answer how he got into Beacon, but that's not the point of the story in the first place. Please leave any notes of criticism, I'd really love to hear what you though about my story

Anyway, Thank you so very much for reading my work.

#jaune arc rwby #jaune arc #rwby #arc #arc family #hurt #death #gore #saphron cotta arc #saphron arc #comfort #fanfic #fanfiction #dark

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years

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Hii!! I saw that your requests are open again so I hope u don't mind cosidering mine!! Maybe some Hcs of the THH bois being sad and their s/o comforts them and when they think they're asleep, they sing them a lullaby? the idea makes me very soft 👉👈🥺

Oop this idea makes me v soft, too ;w;

..........

Taka

You knew how emotional Taka tends to get, even over simple things like you reminding him that you appreciated him in your life.

Though one day, you find him laying on the bed, crying into a pillow.

The fact he neglected to greet you when you came home was especially concerning, since he always did that.

So you lay down beside him and hug him closely, asking what’s wrong.

He just buries his head into your chest and sobs about a quiz he failed, believing his life was ruined because of it.

Anyone else would’ve probably laughed at him for bawling his eyes out over something that insignificant.

But you never do.

You understand he takes a lot of pride in success...and that he could be harsh on himself for little mistakes.

Instead you hold him tighter and reassure him that one bad grade doesn’t mean his future is in shambles.

Eventually he calms down, thanking you for those words he often needed to hear.

Before seemingly passing out from the exhaustion of crying.

You pet his black hair for a bit, and then quietly sing a short lullaby.

In response, his arms hug you tighter.

Mondo

Usually, he’s scary when he’s upset.

But around you, however, he looks like a kicked puppy.

This especially becomes true when he comes home after an argument with his gang.

He takes a shower and comes back out to greet you, his infamous pompadour now shoulder-length brown hair.

Now he looks like a wet kicked puppy.

If you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll just say it was another stupid fight with his gang, who still doubt his capabilities as a leader.

You knew he was trying his best to keep them in one piece--fulfilling his late brother’s dying wish.

So you understood he could take those insults to heart.

He doesn’t wanna go into much detail, knowing he’ll just get angrier (and probably break the coffee table for the third time this week).

You just pat your lap, inviting him to lay his head down there for a while.

He obliges and just closes his eyes as you run your fingers through his hair.

It soothes him to sleep real fast.

And you hum a small song to help ease his mind and forget his frustrations.

Leon

It’s quite easy to tell when he’s sad, even if he doesn’t say anything directly to you.

Oftentimes, it’s when you enter the bedroom or living room and see him curled up with a pillow, eyes moist and red.

The moment he sees you, though, the pillow’s on the ground and he opens his arms up.

It’s like he’s saying “hold me right now or I will die”.

So you oblige and let him cuddle with you like a teddy bear, already feeling better now that you’re here.

He’ll talk about what’s bothering him if you ask.

Usually it’s either growing pressures of baseball practice or his own insecurities eating away at him.

Though sometimes he just says he wants to sleep the day away.

You’re fine with that, and you help him relax by singing a bit of a lullaby.

All he can pay attention to is your calming voice as he dozes off.

After the nap, he feels a lot better.

Hifumi

It’s typical for him to come crying to you about being bullied again.

Though when he asks if you truly loved him...that becomes a shock to you.

Of course you did! What idiot would try to tell him you didn’t?

You swear this is the last time anyone would mess with your big and lovable fanfic writer.

Usually the perfect solution is to sit down on the couch with his head in your lap, while you brush away his tears and list all of the things you loved about him.

No really. You have an actual list you keep in case someone has the nerve to ask you what you see in him.

He might get choked up all over again as he realizes he shouldn’t listen to those idiots.

At some point, he does fall asleep, and you catch yourself humming the tune of some anime song you recently heard.

Funny enough--he sometimes mumbles the lyrics in his sleep.

Yasuhiro

You find him sitting alone in his room, looking sad as he stares down at a crystal ball in his hands.

At first you scared him when you rush over to ask him what’s wrong (fortunately you save him another million yen by catching the ball before it hit the floor).

But once he calms down, he just says he feels like a “useless idiot” during trials sometimes.

He wonders why Monokuma insists everyone participates if he can’t contribute anything good.

What breaks your heart most is when he asks if you think he’s an idiot.

You just take his hands and reassure him he’s far from that.

You remind him that he did bring up some important topics that helped piece the crimes together.

So he’s not useless at all.

He feels much better after those reassurances, though also tired since he was doing a lot of thinking.

So you two just cuddle, and when you think he’s fully out, you quietly sing a random song.

Though he mumbles a “wow you sing rly good” before dozing off.

Makoto

Sometimes the guilt of class trials weighs heavily on him.

Especially when he leaves knowing he basically sent someone to their death.

Even though he knows he has to if everyone else wants to survive.

But that doesn’t stop the nightmares he has of the victims and blackeneds taunting him, blaming him for their deaths instead of Monokuma.

Fortunately, you sleep with him on those nights.

And when he wakes up suddenly, you’re quick to bring him into your arms.

Though if you’re a heavy sleeper, expect to be shaken awake by a teary-eyed Makoto who was scared you died.

When you’re awake, you comfort him by resting your chin on top of his head, while he listens to your heartbeat.

A reminder that you’re still alive.

And you end up singing a short lullaby once he falls back to sleep, ensuring he stayed asleep knowing you were safe.

Chihiro

Knowing Chihiro, it was easy for him to get upset over many things.

But all day long, he’s kept things bottled up, afraid you’d see him as “less manly”.

Though it all backfires horribly when he’s working on a program that keeps having pop-up errors and other glitches.

It’s just one after another and he can’t fix them all.

He feels like he’s faltering in his talent--the one thing he was confident in.

How could he be an “Ultimate Programmer” if he couldn’t fix simple errors?

Sometime later, you find him crying at his desk. You can easily tell your poor bf is overwhelmed again.

So you carry him away from his computer and to the bed, where you both cuddle.

He ends up breaking down into tears again, spilling his heart out to you--the guilt of ignoring you, the frustrations with the program, everything.

And you hold him and listen, letting him talk before you give him your own reassurances/advice.

Eventually, he passes out from exhaustion, and you take the opportunity to sing something to help him calm down more.

Byakuya

There’s not much of a sensitive side to him. He learned to toughed up in the face of many hardships--all to rightfully earn his position in the family.

But not even the heir himself was immune to the stress, suffering, and doubt--especially when he was all alone.

And when you saw that mask crack for the first time..it was a shock.

You came home earlier than expected one day, and you saw the prodigy pacing around the living room, trying to dry both his glasses and eyes while taking shaky breaths.

“You’re better than this...stronger than this..y-you’re..gonna be head of your family...”

The crack in his voice prompts you to intervene.

Of course, he tries playing it off as nothing, though you take him to the couch anyway and hold his hands.

You don’t say or do anything; you just let him calm down by himself, with your presence being more than enough.

Once he does, you convince him to rest for a bit. He just scoffs and says he already planned to.

You hum a song when he finally dozes off.

Your voice is actually soothing to listen to, though he’s not gonna outright say it.

But you know it from his small smile.

Kiyondo

Despite his brash attitude and tendency to mimic Mondo..you knew that deep down, your beloved Taka was in there--still heartbroken and grieving.

It became more apparent when you found him crying in the bathhouse (around the same time he was when he first went there with Mondo).

He shut himself into the sauna, but with luck you managed to convince him to leave and go to your dorm.

At first he aggressively cuddles with you, though as you brush away the hot tears that streaked down his face, his voice becomes less rough and more...soft.

Like his old self.

He admits he’s scared you’ll be taken away from him, too.

But you just hold him, promising him you will be okay...and you’ll help him through this, no matter what it takes.

It’s hard convincing him to sleep, but when he finally does, you just stay awake for a bit longer, petting his hair and singing a short lullaby.

By the morning, he’s back to normal--still gaunt and depressed.

Yet he seems more hopeful, as he remembers you’re still with him.

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themetaphorgirl · 4 years

Note

Please deep dive into your thoughts on Alex, I don’t see enough talking about her

ALL RIGHT Y’ALL WE ARE GETTING INTO IT

So before Spencer Reid got fast-tracked to the BAU at the age of twenty-two, Alex held the record. She joined the bureau with a double major and a PhD (hello, Dr. Blake) at the age of twenty-four. So she’s brilliant. Definitely the second smartest person who’s ever joined the team outside of Spencer. And she clearly did really well for herself, she was twenty-four-years-old and she worked on the Unabomber case, and apparently quite a few other high-profile cases.

And then Erin Strauss completely fucked her over.

Someone arrested the wrong suspect in the Amerithrax case, and Alex was blamed for it, and Erin Strauss let her take the fall for it. So Alex went from being a prodigy in the bureau to resigning in disgrace and going back to civilian life.

And then we have her personal life. Her mother died at some point, and so did her brother Danny, who was killed in the line of duty. And she couldn’t handle going back home to see her father and her younger brother Scotty, so she just couldn’t bring herself back to visit.

And she got married at some point, and James Blake is clearly a great guy, and they had a baby.

Alex spent nine years as the mom to a critically ill child. That is so much. And it was a neurological disorder with no name. She says “he kept growing despite his disease,” so most likely he was diagnosed shortly after birth.

She also says “the last time I lay beside him he was almost as long as me.” Alex’s entire field is linguistics, that’s not an error. Not tall, but long. Most likely Ethan never walked. Maybe he never even spoke. And she says “he was ready to say goodbye.”

That is a lot of trauma to unpack.

And when he died, she was probably adrift. She didn’t have a child that needed her anymore. And that’s probably when James started traveling with Doctors Without Borders, and that’s probably when she went back to working at Georgetown as a professor.

And that’s when she met Spencer.

They don’t say exactly how that situation worked out, but he guest-lectured in her class, apparently on numerous occasions. And she’s still quietly grieving for her son, and this twenty-something kid in a sweater vest comes bounding into her lecture hall, and he’s brilliant and he read her thesis on metaphors and he’s so excited to speak to her class.

So they struck up a friendship before she even started at the BAU. And maybe Spencer speaking to her class was what made her reconsider coming back to the FBI. And she has something to prove, and nothing to lose, so she comes back.

And she gets to stare Erin Strauss down, and Erin is clearly embarrassed and apologizes, but this isn’t something fixed with an under-the-breath apology in the middle of the bullpen, Erin Strauss ruined her career to save her own ass.

And while she gets off to a bit of a rocky start with Penelope “I Don’t Like Change” Garcia, she clicks really well with everybody else, and finds her spot on the team. And she’s tough as nails (”I’m practically bulletproof” “Yeah, I heard that about you”) and she mumbles rap lyrics when she’s stressed and she speaks a million languages. She gets pretty close to JJ and Rossi especially.

She doesn’t put a picture of Ethan on her desk. At Garcia’s Day of the Dead party, she brings a picture of her mom instead.

And Spencer bonds with her in a way that he never bonded with anybody else on the team. They do timed crossword puzzles together. He fusses over her when she gets shot. She understands his references and he can talk without explaining himself. (One thing I’ve noticed in seasons 8 and 9 is that he places himself next to her a lot, whether in they’re in a car or a conference room, he tends to gravitate towards her.)

She sees Ethan in him, what her boy could have been, and she sees a second chance to save her son. And she also sees herself, this brilliant kid, and she wants to protect him the way no one protected her when she got thrown under the bus.

When he needs someone to drive him to the phone booth, he picks her (even calls her by her first name) and she’s concerned about him she doubles back, tires squealing and tells him she’s worried (and he goes wide eyed, his voice pitching up like a kid caught by his mom in a lie) and she can tell when she needs to take a step back, and not only does she give him space, but she doesn’t give away his secret.

(also, can we talk about her little pep talk when he’s doubting himself?

“What if she doesn't like me?“

“Why wouldn't she like you?“

“Because I'm weird! I slouch, my hair's too long, my tie's perpetually crooked-”

“Your hair's fine.”

“Really? Thanks! My mom thinks it's too long, so does my Aunt Ethel.”

“Well, you're not dating them.”

Such a sweet moment.)

When Maeve is missing and he’s so beside himself he can’t think straight, he asks Alex, out of everybody on the team, to help him sort through his thoughts. And when Maeve dies she blames herself.

And in Texas he pushes her out of the way, he takes the shot that could have killed her, and she panics. She’s usually cool and calm and collected, and she loses it completely, and she calls him by her son’s name because not only does she see Spencer as her son, but she failed again, and Ethan is dying in her arms for the second time.

She’s the first one there at the hospital. She’s usually so calm, and JJ is the one who is talking sense into her. And while we see Garcia with him in the hospital, particularly for the really big scare, she was the one with him when he woke up, and she was the one who took him home.

Spencer was the only one she ever told about Ethan. And I think he understood that her heart just wasn’t in it anymore. She’d proved all she had to prove. She was ready to go home to James. And I think she found her own closure. She couldn’t save Ethan, but she saved Spencer.

We don’t hear anything else about Blake after the season 10 opener. She transferred to Boston, and she’s teaching. And I’m mad as hell that we didn’t see her during Spencer’s prison arc, because she sure as hell would have been there with the team, fighting to get him out. But then again, we didn’t see or hear much of Morgan in that arc either.

But yeah. Alex Blake is a fantastic and complicated character and she is a QUEEN and she was a major asset to the team’s work, and she loved Spencer as much as he loved her.

in conclusion, we stan Alexandra Miller Blake in this house

#Anonymous #alex blake is a queen #it is i the queen of the alex blake stans #alex blake

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pinky-the-elephant-room · 4 years

Text

Restart

AN: Ok so I’ve been gone for a while but I’ve hit a milestone in my followers and I decided to write one for my original anime hubby. He’s an oldie but a classic. Everyone loves Kakashi-sensei. Anyway It’s a long one so I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Implied smut but fairly SFW.

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Everyone has read the Fanfiction, and everyone has read the stories. Someone mysteriously dies and gets reborn in a new world. Only to train and become a badass before eventually getting their favorite character to fall in love with them. All while changing the story to prevent people, they’ve never met from dying. It was a wish fulfilment story and it works as entertainment. But real life is so much more difficult than anyone realizes.

Because in the end the person I was before never really changed even when I was reborn into a world of ninjas.

My first memory that I can clearly remember is eating ice cream outside my parent’s farm. I was born in a mundane village a few miles from Konoha. Ice cream was a rare summer treat that my parents occasionally indulged me and my five siblings in. It was on this rice farm where I spent the first five years of my childhood. I went to a civilian school that taught me to write and read before spending the rest of my days helping my family. I remembered nothing from my previous life. Just flashbacks and deja vus that left reminiscent feelings lurking in the back of my mind. Kanji was unexpectedly hard for me versus my sibling who picked it up with ease. Yet, when I finally grasped the language, I kept journals of writings not knowing that it was a passion resembling my former self. I also never understood my connection with cats. I was known as the resident cat girl that went around picking up stray cats to bring back to our farm. And the cats formed a bond, only tolerating me and hissing at everyone else who dared to approach them.

The peaceful years unfortunately didn’t last. Over the years war and bandits took a toll on our quiet town and maintaining a farm was no longer profitable. So, my parents made the decision to sell off their land and move to Konoha. Though, my parents were apprehensive, me and my sibling were ecstatic at living in a shinobi village. Everyone knew of shinobis, the legends surrounding them. Tales of bravery, heartache, and loyalty, it fascinated the residents of the village.

We moved into Konoha early August just before winter arrived and were citizens after 3 months. The process was short due to our lack of shinobi lineage and arriving from a civilian farm town. It was in Konoha that I really got my first exposure to what shinobis actually were. Seeing them jump off the roofs while my father tended his produce stall was mesmerizing. Playing ninja with the rest of the kids and constantly being surrounded by the hype eventually got to the point where I wanted to become a ninja myself. Along with two of my younger siblings, I begged my parents to attend the academy. They eventually relented when they realized the village offered funding for civilian children to attend. I was the only one out of my siblings to pass the entrance exam. I was the only one physically fit enough where they thought I had potential. when I left for that first day, it led to some tantrums and pouting from my siblings who didn’t make it. They eventually overcame their jealousy. They loved to hear about each and every new jutsu that I learned.

It was at the academy when I first saw him. It was him who destroyed my delusions and awakened my suppressed memories. It was Itachi Uchiha. Yet, despite his young age he kept up with the rest of his older classmates. He was only 5 years old, a prodigy amongst prodigies. When I saw his cherub, cute face for the first time, it gave me a headache. It started off as a numbing sensation on the side of my head. I collapsed on my bed from the exhaustion, closing my eyes because the blurred vision made the pain that much worse. I slept off my headache for the rest of the day. And all my previous memories were unlocked.

I was a boring human being. A lazy person who had a multitude of mental issues that barely survived off my paycheck. Got married to an equally mundane individual and by the time we were 30, the passion had worn off. We never got divorced, too afraid of dating again and leaving our two children without each other. The only happiness that kept me grounded was my writing and my hobbies. Growing up I loved anime and lessened as I grew up with more and more responsibility. But Naruto was my childhood and coping mechanism when I got bullied. And out of Naruto was my favorite character, Itachi Uchiha.

I don’t think I need to explain why anyone likes Itachi. From his tragic background and his love for his younger brother. Once as a naïve girl, I wanted to find someone like him or at least wished for a brother who loved his younger siblings like he did. And now somehow those desires came true. Because he sat only 3 rows away. Coupled with my new body’s memories of admiration for the young boy and along with my love and knowledge of what he was going to do in the future, made me yearn for him.

Not in a weird, sexual way. After all, I was still only 8 and he 5, but I wanted to be his friend. I wanted to be his confidant and most of all I wanted to save him.

When I spotted him alone at a lunch break, I decided to go introduce myself. This was going to be the new beginning of a friendship and hopefully more down the lane.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves before approaching the quiet boy.

“Hello, are you Itachi-kun? Nice to meet you! I’m L/N Y/N and I sit behind you,” I cheerfully said and waved at him excitedly.

He blinked slowly and stared at me for a few minutes.

“Yes…. Nice to meet you too,” he uttered.

He stared at me for a few more minutes, making the situation more and more awkward. I let out a nervous chuckle and shuffled my feet at his intense gaze.

Itachi raised his eyebrow as if asking if I wanted anything else.

“Well I-“ I began, but was interrupted by a loud screech.

A boy collided with Itachi and knocked him over. The two tussled for a few minutes, the unknown boy laughing gleefully. While Itachi just sighed and dodged his rambunctious friend.

“Oy! Itachi, did you bring an extra bento that Mikoto-sama prepared?” The boy looked up and I stopped breathing.

It was a clearly healthy and alive, Shisui Uchiha. After a few minutes as the boys conversed, Shisui finally noticed me standing awkwardly in front of them.

He looked at me curiously and asked, “who are you?”

“That’s just my classmate. Anyway, Shisui I have my bento over there. Come,” the solemn boy said. The two boys then left while I just watched wide eyed.

Ok, so the first introduction didn’t go as I planned but I tried multiple times. However, each attempt was just as awkward as the first as I stammered and squirmed in front of Itachi’s inquisitive gaze. Apparently, my inept skills at talking to boys had somehow labeled me as a fangirl, I overheard the young boy tell his cousin.

Once after class, I watched a pretty Izumi clutch a content Itachi as he conversed with Shisui. The three Uchiha unaware of the turmoil in my heart as they went home for the day happily. I realized that day Itachi didn’t have a place for me. This world had no place for me because I was never meant to be here. This story wasn’t mine and it was never going to be.

I never tried again to attempt a conversation, too embarrassed by being called a fangirl. Before I knew it, the year was over and Itachi had graduated early along with his talented cousin. Farther away from my reach than ever, I again realized the difference between myself and the genius. I was still stuck in the academy at 9 years old with my peers. Most of all I knew in the depths of my heart that I couldn’t save him from his fate. Reality was much more bitter than anyone realized.

As for me I finally graduated on my birthday and my parents took us all out for yakitori at a restaurant. I was still going to try my hardest to be the best shinobi I possibly could be. At least if I couldn’t save Itachi and the Uchiha from the inevitable, which I doubt most people in my place could.

Unfortunately for me, my hardest didn’t amount to much. My sensei was a young impatient Genma who ironically had a toothpick in his mouth instead of a senbon. Let me summarize it for you, my team failed. Miserably. I stood there in horror, watching as my hopes and dreams for the future dissolved right in front of me. I rushed after Genma, pleading, and begging for another chance. Even resorting to full on ugly crying while he stood looking painfully uncomfortable.

“Please! I just wanna make a difference!” I begged as tears dripped down my face.

He sighed. “Fine! Just please stop crying. You’re embarrassing yourself and me.”

Genma recommended me for the Genin corps. It wasn’t where I wanted to be, but I also didn’t want to go back to academy. I figured if I spent a year on the corps, I could eventually find myself a Genin team before advancing onto Chunin.

However, once again what actually happened was far from my expectation. I didn’t spend a year or 2 years. I spent 7 years on the Genin corps. S-E-V-E-N. Years. I even spent a year on a Genin team when I was 13 only to realize my potential compared to my peers was very low. Don’t get me wrong my reincarnated body was ten times healthier and in shape than my previous coach potato one. I could barely run a mile in my previous life whereas now I could run 3 miles. However, that achievement paled in comparison to the average ninja. No matter what I did, whether it was taijutsu, genjutsu, or even ninjutsu was dull compared to everyone else. My punches lacked force, I didn’t have enough chakra for the higher level jutsus, and I couldn’t even tell the difference between a basic genjutsu to a complicated one.

Basically, I sucked, so I stuck to Genin corps. For the money of course, it paid pretty well in comparison to civilian jobs. I bought an apartment at 15 and I was able to provide for myself. But the crushing truth took a toll on my mental health. I just spend the time where I wasn’t working in my bed. I barely had energy to feed myself. I didn’t snap out of until I got straightened out by my mother.

“Y/N! When was the last time you took a bath or had a proper night sleep?!” Okasan yelled when she made an impromptu visit to my apartment.

I shrugged and took a bite of my rice ball that Okasan so nicely prepared for me.

“Look, I know being a ninja was your goal. But not everything in life works out. And not everyone has to be a shinobi to have a good life!” she said as her eyes softened.

“But what else am I supposed to do? I’ve been training to be a shinobi since I was 8 years old and none of the other jobs pay so generously,” I replied dully.

Okasan reached over and patted my hand. “Well, you don’t have to quit being a Genin just yet. Try new things or figure what else you want to do before you retire. Hell, when was the last time you had a hobby? You don’t even write like you use to.”

I considered it, maybe I could take up calligraphy or start writing again like I used to. I haven’t written anything down since I made Genin.

“Alright, I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything,” I grumbled.

“As long as you snap out of this funk and start taking care of yourself is all I ask for, Y/N” Okasan said with a soft smile.

It took a while after that conversation, but little by little I started to put in effort again. I cut my shaggy hair into an acceptable style, showered every day, and ate my meals on time. I even adopted a little stray off the streets that made itself home in my small apartment. One night coming home after my late shift, I stopped by a bookstore to buy a sturdy journal. I started off by journaling my daily life before letting my creative mind drift. In my previous life, I was a self-published erotica writer that basically did it for fun. Maybe it was something I could attempt again.

There were many drafts before I settled on a topic that I felt passionate about. In the Elemental nations, they idealized a woman who waited. Just take the bestselling Icha Icha novel for example, it involved a ninja who abandoned his wife because he was scared his enemies would target her. He spent the entire novel hoeing his way through the countries, only to realize he was still in love with his wife. The wife, who by the way, spent years celibate and faithfully waiting for her husband. That novel made me infuriatingly mad because it highlighted the double standards of the world I was born in so well. Hell, even in the future Sakura and Hinata would waste their lives, faithfully waiting on the men they love to reciprocate their feelings.

So, for my novel I decided to juxtapose those stereotypes by writing a novel about a woman named Sayaka whose boyfriend would break up with her, unknowing she was pregnant with his child. She spends her life trying to provide for her child, only for him to be kidnapped because he had a rare keikei genkai. She hires a local mercenary (Mahiro) except he’s not interested in her money but rather her. The rest of the plot was not decided yet, but I would see where it goes and plan accordingly.

The more I wrote the better I felt and the disappointment that was my career no longer felt like a death sentence. Without a laptop or anything to help me write, I had to resort to buying a used typewriter. Still I would rush home each day, excited to write another chapter. Or to get lost in the filthy world of the mercenary and desperate mother. There weren’t a lot of people I could trust to edit so I spent months editing and reediting until I had the best version of my novel. And then when I was done, I had no idea what to do with it. Did I really want to become an erotica author in this world? As violent as it was, the Elemental nations were still conservative regarding sexuality. There were many female readers who loved Icha Icha but didn’t show it in public because it was seen as a dirty book for old men. After much deliberation, I decided to contact publishing agencies that weren’t affiliated with Icha Icha.

Waiting for their responses took months and many rejections before my novel was picked up by a small agency that mostly published Nonfiction. The agency would send an editor to talk about contracts and the novel itself to Konoha. So, by my 18th birthday, I was anxiously awaiting where else fate would take me.

The editor and I had decided on a family restaurant to meet up and I dressed in my best clothes to give off the optimum impression. I really wanted this to work out for me. For once.

It didn’t take long before a harried young man in a suit came in and looked around anxiously.

“Nino-san! Over here!” I called out and waved my hand to get his attention.

He looked at me in surprise and sat down across from me.

“Uh, hello. Excuse me can you tell when Y/N-san will arrive? I’m kind of on a deadline.”

I looked at him weirdly. “Um, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you,” I said cautiously.

He stuttered wildly, blushing as he pointed at me. “B-be serious! No way are you her! You’re way too young to be writing such a – “

“Filthy, dirty novel?” I finished wryly.

He shook his head vigorously. “No! I meant such a hardcore erotica! I-I’m so sorry that came out wrong.”

I just laughed. “It’s ok. I’m a shinobi, we age faster than we look due to the trauma.”

We spent the next hour talking about the novel itself and how it would be promoted.

“So, Y/N-san. Our agency usually doesn’t deal with erotica. But your novel has a good chance to sell well if someone promoted it correctly. We want this to be known as the Icha Icha for women.”

I felt my eyebrows furrow. “Isn’t that a little presumptuous? Won’t I just get hate if I don’t live up to the expectations?”

The man let out a chuckle. “That’s true but I don’t think most people will be disappointed by it. Besides it’s very important for new authors to get their name out there. Maybe for future sequels we can tone it down, but for the first one we want to start off with a bang! Any publicity is better than none,” he reasoned.

Realizing the editor might have a point, I agreed and signed a contract with the publishing agency. The novel was due to be out December which is 6 months from now on. For the first time in a while I had achieved my goals. I had managed something without it going terribly wrong.

I got a small sum of money when I signed the contract, but I really wouldn’t be to collect royalties until the book was published. So, for the rest of my time I diligently did my job as a Genin by delivering messages and other nonsense jobs that were left over. As I avoided the shinobi bars that were filled with accomplished Chunins and Jounins, I promised myself that I would never again be embarrassed to walk these streets again. For the past few years, I had kept my eyes down as I walked through the villages as I got older and older, yet I still remained a Genin.

‘Please no more. Give me something to be proud of.’ I begged in my mind. Even if it meant a trashy porn, I was so low on self-esteem, anything would be worthwhile.

Luckily for me, it seemed like 18 years of bad karma was finally going to be turned around as the date to publish my novel got closer and closer. The agency hadn’t lied, they promoted my novel almost aggressively. Every bookstore had huge advertisement declaring the next big hit. Though, I had giggled almost manically when I saw the book’s cover for the first time. It reminded me of the many trashy novels from my previous life with the man’s shirtless abs on display with a beautiful woman clinging. However, for my novel it was obviously a rogue shinobi with his chest on display as a young girl clutched his biceps. Scarlet Heart series was the name I had chosen, and it stood out on the erotic cover. I saw many curious women fluttering around the display, almost shy in showing their interest. I even saw a man pulling away his pregnant wife as she read the synopsis, muttering angrily to himself.

When the launch of the book occurred, I holed myself in my apartment. I tried to relax and keep myself busy so I wouldn’t be too occupied with the reactions. I even took an entire week off from my usual work, feigning sickness in my family. I hung out with my oldest brother and his newborn son, trying to reacquaint myself with the siblings that I had long neglected.

I met up later with my editor to discuss how the book was faring, hopefully it did decent enough that I could have reason to continue my story. We met up at the same restaurant as before and Nino gave me a brilliant smile that quelled my fears.

“Y/N-san, your book’s sales did amazing in Konoha followed by Iwa and Kumo. The marketing towards women paid off because most of the sales came from women in their 20s to 40s. Heck, there were even a substantial amount from men who were curious. I think you should definitely continue this series. Do you have an idea where you’re going to take the story?” he gushed with excitement.

I sighed with relief, “I’m glad. I was so worried about the response I didn’t even go near any bookstores! As for sequels I have an inkling. I still have to work out everything, but I want to introduce Sayaka’s ex-boyfriend and maybe dabble in a proper love triangle.”

Nino-san nodded and said, “you should be careful how you write that triangle though. Some love triangles can get tedious and annoying, but it does play its part well in keeping the audience’s interest.”

Nino-san and I eagerly discussed the future for Scarlet Heart. I felt a flutter in my heart, knowing that for the first in forever I had something to look forward to.

Time Skip~ 1-year Kakashi POV:

Really with everything he had endured in his life, you would think the world would be willing to give him a break, right? Nope!

Most think it started with Obito’s death, but he thought it started with his father’s suicide that really began the downward spiral. Nevertheless, after his teammate’s death, he and Rin had rushed into a presumably “relationship”. But really it was a way to keep her close, so he didn’t lose anyone else. They never even kissed though he knew Rin desperately wanted to do all the things that couples do. But he remained closed off in those four months before she was killed. By him no less.

Afterwards included him coping with his trauma by joining Anbu (and for a short while Root). His sensei became Hokage; but even he would pass away along with his wife, leaving behind a tiny blond sacrifice for the village to turn their resentment against.

But he was getting ahead himself months before Rin’s death Jiraiya-sama had approached him with a gift.

Jiraiya gave him an exaggerated wink and giggled. “Here gaki. You’re so depressed that Minato and Kushina keep thinking they might have to stage an intervention. But what you need is a distraction and I have just the thing!”

He had handed over a book with a bright red cover before hopping roof to roof all the while laughing obnoxiously.

He took it with a surge of curiosity, emotions he hadn’t felt in a while since Obito tragically passed away (AKA crushed by a boulder, but he digresses).

That started his love, well more like obsession, with the Icha Icha series. First, he was revolted and ashamed, eager to find the Sannin and perhaps show him the effectiveness of his Chidori. But over time his curiosity couldn’t be contained, and he finished the naughty book in two days. He noticed how when he was occupied with the book, he hadn’t once thought of Obito and everything that was wrong with his life. Of course, he had a girlfriend then so he couldn’t risk being seen with the book outside of his humble apartment. But a year after Rin’s death, he ventured out with his hobby. The reactions of the general public had amused him beyond belief and a strange sense of vindictive righteousness set upon seeing his Anbu kohais’ reactions.

The reactions only encouraged him to read everywhere and anywhere. He even managed to piss off Gai once as the incensed man ran away to do a 100 more laps around the village. It didn’t last long before he reappeared to challenge Kakashi once more, but Kakashi appreciated the brief reprieve.

Anyway, the point of this rather tragic flashback wasn’t to gain sympathy for himself, but to showcase the real injustice that occurred at his tender age of 25. His beloved Icha Icha had a rival apparently. Which was bullshit, obviously. He wasn’t blind to the errors of the pornographic novel. The plot was simple, characters were paper-thin, and as more novels debuted in the series, the more apparent the similarities between each novel became. But the series was fast moving, the sex was incredibly detailed and arousing, and the series was frankly addicting. Once someone became a fan, it was impossible not to reach for the next one.

So, when he heard about this supposed series that was going to rival Icha Icha, he had scoffed and rolled his eyes. Many contenders claimed the same thing before they faded off into oblivion when everyone realized the superiority of Icha Icha. The first four months of the series’ debut he made it his mission to ignore all the hype and kept rereading his collection. After all, when the next issue of Icha Icha released, everyone would forget the hype of this wannabe.

Unfortunately, the world never adheres to his expectations and loves to fuck him over every chance it got. Kakashi, once again, had failed another Genin team because Hokage-sama thought he had potential as a sensei. He must have been smoking that pipe too much lately. The rest of his fellow Jounin invited him to a bar where he reluctantly agreed and was dragged off by Asuma.

They settled in and ordered some drinks, while Kakashi read his book, half listening to the conversation around him.

“I’m telling you this book is really good. I know people say it’s for women, but it’s so much more than that.” Kurenai persuaded Genma who just looked skeptical.

“Even Asuma liked it!” She pointed to the smoker who just looked embarrassed at the sudden attention.

Asuma cleared his voice a couple times. “Well, it’s not that bad at all. It kept me busy for a couple of hours for a few days.”

Kurenai rolled her eyes at him. “He loved it. He told me he did.”

Kakashi’s interest peaked and he lowered his book down.

“Wait, are you talking about that new series that everyone’s losing their minds over?”

Kurenai’s eyes lit up and she looked eager rather than the calm, collected Jounin she usually was.

“Yeah, you read it Kakashi? I never thought for once you would put down that trash and try something else.”

Kakashi felt his ire rise and his single visible eyesmiled at the red eyed kunoichi.

“Why Kurenai doesn’t that book also have porn in it? Doesn’t that mean you read trash too?”

Kurenai’s cheeks heated up. “Well, it does but it’s also about a betrayed woman who learns to love again and honestly it’s much more nuanced than whatever Icha Icha achieved in its six sequels.”

Kakashi felt his eyebrows rise. He highly doubted that, but he couldn’t help but add in.

“And how do you know what’s in Icha Icha?”

The blush on Kurenai’s face deepened. “I might have read it but only because Anko forced me to. To ‘loosen’ up or whatever that means.”

Their fellow Jounin chuckled as Kurenai tossed back a drink as she tried to cool her overheated face.

The conversation moved on mercifully for the embarrassed woman, but Kakashi also lost his interest and he returned to the passage where Misaki was educating her lover on the preciseness of oral sex.

Kakashi hoped that would be the last time he ever heard of that book. But again, the hype for this novel continued. He spotted more women with erotica in their hands than he ever did in his lifetime. Even kunoichi seemed to have lost their minds as the book was the hot topic no matter where he went. Even the Hokage’s secretary was seen reading the porn while she was on the job. He was sick and tired of hearing about this supposedly incredible book. Kakashi just wanted to read his book in peace can’t the village go back to a time where it wasn’t consumed by porn?

Kakashi sighed as another day passed and yet another Genin team failed. When will Hokage-sama finally get the message he just wasn’t cut out for teaching? He sighed with relief as he flipped the entrance banner of Ichikaru Ramen and sat down on one of the stools.

“Just a miso ramen. Thanks,” he called out tiredly. Kakashi looked around the restaurant and was surprised to see another person at the other end. He barely noticed her; her chakra presence wasn’t much. She was just in a plain white t shirt and some pants. A civilian he guessed. Kakashi turned back when his order was placed in front of him. He stealthily looked around the restaurant and saw no one was paying attention to him. He pulled down his mask and started eating his meal. It was nice not to eat in big gulps for once lest someone saw his face.

When he was halfway through his meal, he heard the sound of someone turning pages and muttering. He turned around to see his neighbor writing in her book and she seemed to be fairly frustrated. Just as Kakashi was about to turn around and mind his business, he noticed that the book was the infamous Scarlet Hearts. He internally groaned. Really? Just how bad was his luck?

“Is the book any good?” He called out to the young girl.

Oh, damn why was he getting her attention? Abort! Abort! This day didn’t consist of making polite conversations with a civvie.

Just as he was about to maybe perform a last minute shunshin, the girl looked up at him and stared at him in surprise.

He felt nervous when she just kept staring at him for a while. Did she recognize him as the “friend killer” and infamous “copycat ninja”?

“Uh- Hello?” He waved his hands in front of her face.

The girl looked startled and flushed. “Oh, sorry. I got lost in thought. What was your question again?”

Kakashi pointed at her book and asked, “the book, is it as good as the hype says it is?”

She just seemed even more startled by the fact that he was asking about her book. “W-well, I’m not sure about other people’s opinions. But it’s worth reading just for curiosity’s sake. I found it pretty good.”

Kakashi stared at the awful book, wishing he could set it on fire just by glaring at it. “See, I don’t see why people are comparing it to Icha Icha. It can’t possibly be that good!”

“I kind of have to agree on that. The marketing really didn’t do it justice,” the girl muttered.

Kakashi tilted his head towards the younger girl and sent a relaxed smile her way. “Ah, thank you. Finally, someone who understands.”

The girl shook her head. “I meant trying to compare the two books wasn’t a good idea. They’re two different books, the only thing they have in common is that they both have explicit scenes.”

Seeing the confused look on his face, the girl further elaborated. “Icha Icha is intended for a one type of audience and it does its job well. There’s nothing wrong with that after all it has an ardent fan in you. But I feel like Scarlet Heart can be enjoyed by any mature individual. And for me what’s the most important thing is that it portrays its women realistically. Icha Icha is based off this fantasy, ideal type of woman who doesn’t have any drama of her own and goes around solving the male character’s issues. Or she’s a passive victim in the overall story for the hero to win over. This heroine in Scarlet Heart is cynical, hard to get to know due to her past. The male character is a typical chauvinistic guy who thinks he can have anyone he wants. But over time as they get to know each other the layers fall apart to show two lonely people who’ve been waiting for someone to connect to.”

Kakashi looked at the girl critically who sent a tentative smile to him after her long explanation. Her features were quite plain and at first glance she wasn’t anything exceptional to look at. But her smile lit up her entire face. He thought over her words, no one had ever explained the book quite like that. But then again, he never gave them the time to explain either. Perhaps, he was wrong to do so.

“Here maybe you would like to form an opinion yourself and see if it holds up,” she said as she handed over her own copy of Scarlet Heart.

He grabbed it from her grip, touching her soft hands by accident, quickly pulling away. “Are you sure? Weren’t you writing in it earlier?”

With a cute prominent blush, she replied, “it’s fine I bought that paperback copy to write in. I have another one at home. You can keep it. If we meet again tell me what you thought of it.”

Kakashi nodded and put the book with his Icha Icha in the weapon pouch on his hip.

“Mah, I’m sure we will. By the way what’s your name? After all, when I see you next time, I have to thank the person who will put up with my complaints.”

“Oh, I’m L/N Y/N. Nice to meet you,” she said with another bright grin aimed his way.

Ignoring the unconscious shivers that erupted on his body, he returned it with another one of his patent fake smiles.

“Hatake Kakashi. Nice to meet you as well, Y/N-san.”

The conversation died a few minutes later and he paid for his meal before leaving for his lonesome apartment. Maybe today the lonely dwelling won’t be so bad to deal with, what with new reading material the night might just pass by really quickly.

Return to Reader’s POV

You know when I began my porn writing journey in the Naruto world, I never for a second thought I would attract Kakashi’s attention. I mean I knew he read porn, but I honestly thought he would stay attached to Icha Icha forever. In the anime, he still read the book even years after Jiraiya’s death, so it just goes to show how much of a devoted fan he was.

When I met him accidently in Ichikaru Ramen, I was in a state of shock. I’m pretty sure he thought I was just another weird fangirl. ‘Just like Itachi.’ I couldn’t help but think.

But him asking about my novel and actually pouting about the attention it gained made me giggle even hours later. Still giving away the novel I was rereading to spot mistakes and plot holes was bold. I genuinely hoped he liked the novel; it would be a huge compliment if I managed to change his perspective. I know I wasn’t ever going to change his mind about Icha Icha, but he had plenty of money to support both series. I probably wasn’t ever going to see him again, but it was nice to interact with a canon character for once without entirely embarrassing myself.

I shook off the excitement from interacting with the scarecrow sensei and tried to focus on brainstorming my second novel. The love triangle was going to become much more integral in this part and I was going have to work extra hard to make readers sympathize and like Shoutaro. Because many of my readers were already enamored with the hotheaded, flirtatious mercenary with a heart of gold, Mahiro. The best way to build the triangle was to showcase pros and cons of both men. Thereby making the triangle stronger and give readers something to root for. While there would be only one man who would get the girl, I wanted readers to feel conflicted between the two men. However, to keep the choice from happening out of nowhere, I also had to hint throughout the novel why Mahiro and Sayaka was the best choice. So, by the third novel when Sayaka made her choice, it wouldn’t seem like it happened out of nowhere. Indeed, the sequel was harder to write than the first one because I had high expectations to overcome this time. Brainstorming even took longer than normal. Though, it was challenging, I decided needed a break and took a trip to the markets to finally restock my empty fridge.

Slowly I made my way through the vegetable stalls and tried to pick out the ripest ones. Most people usually tried to barter the prices. However, since the massive royalties I had more money than I knew what to do with and so I paid the full amount at each stall. Most of the produce stalls were run by elderly couples and they needed the money for their livelihood.

I bowed to an obasan and thanked her when she gave a few extra tomatoes after I paid.

“You know most people would try to barter the prices down to a fair price,” a deep voice interrupted just as I was about to walk away.

I jumped and almost dropped my produce. A steady hand gripped my hips and set me right. I looked up to the masked, silver haired Jounin. I blushed, feeling his strong hands on my body. His single eye widened a bit before he relaxed and let go of me.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Y-yes, thank you. Hatake-san,” I stuttered and bowed my head.

“Ma, no need to call me Hatake-san. That makes me feel older than people think I am.” He said as he waved off my gratitude.

“Hai, K-kakashi-san then. What are you doing here? No offense but I didn’t realize that elite shinobis had time to shop and cook for themselves.”

It was true from what I heard. All elite shinobi, especially men, rarely cooked for themselves relying on easy to make or restaurants meals to get them through the day. Some even ate rations to forgo meals in a rush.

Kakashi raised his eyebrow at me. “Well, I was actually looking for you. I’ve finished the book you loaned me after a week. It’s only right to return it.”

I shook my head. “It’s alright. I told you to keep it didn’t I?”

I felt my head get hit lightly by something. I looked up to see it was my paperback novel. When did he pull that out? Did he have it on him all this time and I didn’t noticed it until now?

“You’re quite stubborn, aren’t you? Let’s just say I needed an excuse to find my partner in crime and tell her my opinion of the book.”

I sighed, realizing that I couldn’t get away from his rant that he will no doubt tell me with relish on how much he hated the book.

“Alright, but I have to put my groceries away.” I said lifting my bags.

“It’s fine. As long as it isn’t milk or meat it wouldn’t be spoiled for a few hours. Come on, I’ll treat you to some dango.” He walked away slightly slouched and relaxed with his hands in his pockets.

I looked after him helplessly, hesitating on whether I should follow or not.

“You better follow him, jou-chan. He’s quite handsome,” the obasan said as she helped another customer. A few giggles slipped out from the customer and I felt my cheeks go hot from embarrassment. I bowed and thanked the elderly lady again before following the Jounin.

I caught up to him in no time, we both walked silently before we came onto the small stand that was selling the sweet.

Kakashi told me to take a seat on a bench nearby as he grabbed the sweets. I put down my groceries near me as I waited for my companion to return.

He came back with two skewers of dango and handed me one while he held onto the other one.

“So, what did you think of the novel?” I asked as I took a bite of the dango.

“I hate it to admit it but it’s good. Not better than Icha Icha of course, but it’s better than some of the others that tried to ride the coattails of Icha Icha.”

I felt a burst of butterflies inside my stomach and I leaned forward eagerly. “Really?!! What did you like it about it specifically?”

He seemed amused at my enthusiasm. “Ah, well I liked how the author built up the romance. They didn’t have sex right away, but when they did it made sense-“

I felt my heartbeat increase and my ears felt hot when I heard the word sex come out of Kakashi’s mouth. How did I ever not know how nice his deep voice was? I bet he would be really good at dirty talk—Ahh, nononono. That was not a good topic to think about while you’re talking to the man. I bit my lip to concentrate on what Kakashi was trying to tell me.

“And I like how the female characters made smart decisions and acted cautiously instead of getting kidnapped all the time. It made them seem like real people instead of plot conveniences.” He finished with an eyesmile.

I returned his smile, liking that he appreciated the portrayal of the female characters. Some of the detractors apparently didn’t like the more rounded characters and felt they should just be used as sauce instead of being the main dish.

“Do you prefer the woman in Scarlet Hearts or Icha Icha?” I asked playfully.

He narrowed his eyes at my tone. “Weeeell, the women in Icha Icha are much more beautiful, but the women in Scarlet Heart are more attainable than the ones in Icha Icha.”

I let out a laugh. “That’s nice to hear. But I’m pretty sure that Sayaka isn’t a real person. Sorry, Kakashi-san.”

He let out a disappointed sigh. “I guess I will have to safeguard my heart until I can find someone close to her then.”

I snorted knowing Kakashi would remain single even at the end of the series where everyone was getting married and having kids.

“What? You think it’s hopeless?”

I just sent him an innocent smile and said,” I have no idea what you’re talking about Kakashi-san.”

Me and Kakashi stayed for a few more minutes before I decided to head home. Kakashi stuck close to me, telling me he would keep me company until I arrived. He looked surprise at the neighborhood I was living in. The small apartment I was previously inhabited was now upgraded to an upscale three-bedroom apartment. It was a safe neighborhood that was occupied by wealthy merchants and high-ranking shinobis. I ignored his reaction and continued to walk toward my apartment.

When I had trouble trying to juggle my groceries and trying to grab my keys from my purse, Kakashi stepped in to grab my bags. I thanked him and opened the door. He casually walked in and left the bags in the kitchen at my directions.

“Would you like some tea? I think some tea would be good with the sweets we just had.” Kakashi just nodded in agreement as he looked around my apartment. The tiny stray who I adopted became a giant, fluffy monster who was now sniffing Kakashi’s feet and rubbing against his legs.

I giggled and left to make some iced sencha green tea. I tried not to let my excitement that THE Hatake Kakashi was standing in my living room, distract me from being a good host. I filled the glass with tea and dropped some ice cubes in it before putting it on a tray and bringing it out to the living room.

“Kakashi-san? Here’s your tea,” I called out happily and looking up to see Kakashi’s back.

I furrowed my eyebrows when he didn’t respond. “Kakashi-san?” He was still turned around and looking at something.

I put the tray down on a coffee table and approached the unresponsive Jounin. I looked down to see papers in his hand and felt my face pale drastically.

“A-ahhh! That’s not for your eyes!” I laughed hysterically and snatched my papers from his hands. I quickly took all my notes and notebooks which I brainstormed in and dropped them off in my bedroom. With a head full of excuses as to why I had Scarlet Heart’s sequel on the sofa, I made my way back to Kakashi.

“You’re the author of Scarlet Heart?”Was the first thing he asked when he saw my face. I felt my face heat up.

“U-um, no! That was just me amateurly writing as to what I think will happen in the future!”

He shot me a serious look. “Do you think I’m stupid? That was the first chapter all neatly written down. And the character profiles of future characters like her ex-boyfriend are all filled out accurately. Plus, you’re a single young girl that’s living in such a rich neighborhood which many people can’t afford unless they have some serious cash. Cash from a recently released erotica maybe?”

His intense gaze made me sweat profusely and I couldn’t hold eye contact for more than a minute.

“Yes. Yes, I’m the author of Scarlet Hearts.” I whispered, looking at the ground.

I quickly gazed back at him when I heard a snort. Kakashi gave me an incredulous look.

“I can’t believe it. Even though I saw it with my own eyes. You’re so young! How old are you, 16?”

I pouted, puffing out my cheeks. “I’m 19! Besides you’re a shinobi what does age even matter? You’re a legal adult when you’re a Genin!”

Kakashi let out a chuckle and softly patted my head. “I know that but you’re a civilian so it’s different.”

I bit my lips deciding whether to tell him I was actually a former Genin corps. Deciding I didn’t need the genius looking at me in pity, I didn’t correct him.

“Well, now that you know. Please keep this a secret, ok? I just want to live in anonymity and write my books. Hence the pen name.”

Kakashi agreed and messed with my hair some more.

“You got it, Y/N-chan.” I blushed at the added chan in my name.

He downed his iced tea in a hurry when an Anbu appeared at the window with a mission for him. I watched with amazement as Kakashi disappeared with a shunshin and then scowled heavily looking at all the leaves on the floor of my apartment.

“Note to self. Do not let elite shinobi shunshin in and out of my apartment,” I grumbled to myself as I swept up.

Kakashi’s POV 2

You know how once you find out something about someone it changes how you look at them. He was now intensely curious about Y/N. He figured she was a normal innocent girl, but boy was he wrong about everything. How was he supposed to know that the sex scenes that had him riveted to the point that he took a shower to calm himself before he resumed reading was written by a cherub slip of a girl? After his discovery Kakashi was unable to leave her alone. He frequently took time out of day when he wasn’t on a mission or training his helpless cute team (he had a team now!!), he was spending time with Y/N. It was kind of weird at first after all he went out of his way to avoid human contact, but in this case, he wanted to know what made her tick. All her favorite things and her habits. Kakashi wanted to know what made her sad or what made her be flushed with happiness.

Most of all he wanted to know how she came up with all the scenarios in her novel. But even he knew that if he asked her bluntly, she would no doubt kick him out of her apartment and refuse to speak to him again. It also didn’t help that his imagination went wild each time he saw her. All those scenarios would inappropriately pop up in his head and she would star in all of them. The blush on her face gave him a good idea on how she would look with her eyes dilated and with him on top. Whenever that happened the excitement coursing through would become prominent and he had to take a few breaths to calm him down. Imagining Gai in a bikini always did the trick for him.

Kakashi, after months of speculation, came to one conclusion as why Y/N was so fascinating. He wanted her. He wanted her in a way that men who were attracted to women did. In a way that meant commitment and all the mushy feelings. He groaned at that idea, Kakashi so didn’t want to act like Minato-sensei whenever he was around his hot-headed wife.

He could just ignore the feelings; he was quite good at ignoring all the turmoil inside of him. But his crisis shinobi therapist said he could no longer do that. He had to solve his lingering issues if he wanted to move forward with his life like his survivor’s guilt and his unresolved issues with his dead father. So that meant he had to make it obvious to Y/N that he liked her. Should he shout his youthful love on the top of the Hokage mountain at early in the morning like Gai would do? Kakashi chuckled at the novel idea. Ok, he was trying to get her to date him not run away from him. Luckily for him, fate decided to not be a bitch this time and give Y/N a nudge.

Kakashi was inside of her apartment like he usually was nowadays with her round monster of a cat on his lap. He absentmindedly patted the feline as he purred away like no one’s business. His ninken weren’t happy with him lately, but they will have to put up with it because Y/N was going to be around him for a long time if he had anything to say about it. He looked at Y/N who was hard at work on her second novel, typing away at the machine she called a typewriter. No matter what Kakashi did today, he wasn’t able to get her attention. She was intensely focused on the sex scenes apparently, which was a shame. Because he was right here, and she could be doing much more than just imagining it.

A mischievous idea popped into his head.

“So, Y/N-chan,” he called out.

She responded with a distracted “hm”.

“Do those explicit parts have any truth to them?”

That got the attention of Y/N and she turned around with a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean most people write about what they know. So, I’m asking if you have attempted anything from the books you write?”

Kakashi had pride within himself for the many ways he made Y/N blush. But the flush on her cheeks, ears, and her neck had no rival with the way her eyes seem to swirl with embarrassment.

“Kakashi-kun! I-I-. You can’t just ask that!”

“It’s true though. Everyone does research for their novels. Especially Jiraiya-sama,” he stated nonchalantly despite his eyes beaming with amusement.

She pressed her hands against her overwhelmingly hot cheeks.

“I’m not like that Sannin! I’ve never had sex before! I’m still a virgin. I just write whatever pops into my head,” she mumbled out.

Kakashi got up and made his way to Y/N. He leaned into her face as Y/N tried to scramble back, trying to get some space in between them.

“Y/N, if you ever need inspiration for your book. I’m right here and I’m happy to volunteer for such a good cause,” he said cheekily.

Her eyes widened and she gaped at him. She blinked several times as if she couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth.

Kakashi touched her cheeks, breaking her out of the stupor she was in. As he stroked her soft skin with one hand, the other pulled down his mask to reveal his face.

Y/N let out a squeak and gazed hungrily at his exposed face. Kakashi never considered what people thought of his face honestly but her reaction was gratifying.

He leaned in even closer and her eyes fluttered closed at his proximity. Knowing she was anticipating as much he was, Kakashi wasted no time in connecting their lips. She tasted heavenly and she let out a moan when he gently nipped at her bottom lip. He’s kissed plenty of willing partners, but none excited him the way she did. Her scent and the way her breath hitched when he brought her into his embrace intoxicated him further. It was obvious from the way she was responding; Y/n didn’t have a lot of experience. But he held her face gently and slowly swirled his tongue around hers, guiding her through what might be her first kiss. When she got the hang of it, Kakashi removed his hands from her face to her hips. Not wasting another moment, he gripped her ass tightly and appreciated the thickness he had been admiring for a while. She was an eager little thing and greedy. Every time they separated for a breather; she came back with more intensity than before. It’s like he awakened something, and she was willing to take whatever she could get. Unfortunately for Y/N, he didn’t just want to spend his time kissing. No, he wanted to inspire a very, very naughty section that would light the imagination of every woman in Konoha.

Kakashi pecked her pink, swollen lips one time before removing himself. She looked earnestly at him, trying to reconnect.

“How about you and I head to your room. And I could show you the benefits of a chapter on oral sex,” he huskily whispered.

Apparently, Y/N didn’t need further prompting because she dragged him into her room and swiftly closed the door.

Kakashi spent the rest of the night fulfilling his promising words. And when the second novel of Scarlet Hearts came out, chapter 13 became infamous amongst all. And all the practitioners of oral sex cursed the author because they could not live up to the fantasy that chapter inspired.

#kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x reader #naruto fanfiction #naruto x reader #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi imagines #kakashi hakate #naruto

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sm-pantheon · 3 years

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SMPantheon AU Information

Greetings, Tumblrer. Can I interest you in my Dream SMP God AU? Yes? Great. Hope you like reading.

I should clarify, before we begin, that there is one rule in the Pantheon: and that is not to date those in other classes. This rule is often broken due to the enforcer's blatant biases, so some people get off scott-free. This rule doesn't apply to dating humans, however, because of the need for classic zeus-style, demigod-bearing hijinks.

THE TRINITY

The creators of the universe, the dreamons. Gods of Chaos. Two have been replaced so far.

Dream XD The creator, the father, the man...god...thing Himself. Yes, that H is capitalized. He was the first god to exist, and every heavenly being stems from Him in some way. He enjoys seeing people suffer. He loves George in secret, even if He hasn't yet reciprocated. He stripped Captain Puffy of some of her power because He deemed the God of Order to be getting in the way of His chaos. His mask has the XD emoticon on it, fittingly enough.

Dream The 'son' of the Trinity, and the enforcer of the love law. His position was once filled by Mexican Dream, before he was demoted for being a dumbass. He later demoted Mamacita for falling in love with Mexican Dream, because they weren't in the same God class anymore. He is notoriously biased and nepotistic with his enforcing. He's also an asshole. His mask has the :) emoticon on it.

Drista The 'holy spirit' of the Trinity. A child. She causes chaos wherever she goes, whether intentionally or not, which makes DXD very proud. Her position was once filled by Mamacita, before she was demoted. She often hangs out with the demigods, most often Tommy. Wherever she goes, hijinks ensue. He mask has the >;P emoticon on it.

GREATER GODS

The most powerful gods, besides the Trinity.

Philza The God of Freedom. A ruthless killer, but a pretty good father figure. He was the first non-Trinity god, and appropriately he matches up with their chaos. He is most notably the god who invented angels, and personally made the first one, Clara. A long time ago he fought with Awesamdude because of their conflicting symbols and won, demoting Sam to the rank of a regular God. His wife is Kristin, a (dead) human, but one time he had a fling with a refridgerator. Confusing times. His sons are Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur, and his grandson is Fundy.

Technoblade The God of Violence, often regarded as the 'Blood God'. He is a force to be reckoned with, and you can probably trace him back to every world war in some way. He has a more stoic and calm side, which only Philza and his family can bring out. He acts as sort of an uncle and brother to them, sometimes caring for the kids. He would rather die than have his own, though. He feels an attachment to his friend Ranboo's son, Michael, because they are both pigmen. He plans to train him when he grows hold enough. His pride and joy is the section of the underworld he invented, which is the section where sinners burn eternally.

Antfrost The God of Love. Currently he is taking refuge on earth with his boyfriend Velvet, who is the third archangel. He's never been very friendly with Dream, so it would be inevitable that he would be punished for loving Velvet. To avoid this, he fleed to a small town on earth. He has had a long-time rivalry with Ponk because of his innate hatred of cats.

Foolish Gamers The God of Creation. He is a master builder, and has built the temples of all the Gods. One day, Sapnap, the God of Destruction, challenged him to a fight, and whoever lost would be demoted. He accepted and won, which is why his equal is now lower on the totem pole than he is. He created the earth with Hannah at the command of the Trinity. His best friend is Eret. He often enlists the help of the rock nymph HBomb for help with terraforming and foundation building.

Karl Jacobs The God of Time. He can control time by slowing it down, speeding it up, pausing it, rewinding, etc. However, he is only allowed to use it when the Trinity gives permission. Usually, he just sits around and helps his "not fiancés", Quackity and Sapnap, with their work. He was born soon after Philza.

GODS

Averagely powerful gods.

Sapnap The God of Destruction. He was originally a greater god, but lost a fight to Foolish and gave some power up as a result. He is responsible in part for all the natural disasters of the world.

Awesamdude He was stripped of some of his power by Philza (with assistance from Techno, although he'd never admit it). He acts as a father figure to some of the younger heavenly beings. He created Sam Nook, an altered clone of himself, to be a Nanny for Philza's children. He now takes care of young Fundy and Michael. Loves Ponk in secret.

Badboyhalo The God of Purity. Cannot do wrong, after all he is the only person who actually is dating someone and is following the rule. Has a public record stating he has never sworn. He's highly devoted to his pursuit of holiness... and also Skeppy.

Skeppy The God of Fortune. After all, he's made of diamond. He's a goofball, especially around Bad. He's Bad's best friend/boy friend, B.B.F., as he would say!

Captain Puffy The God of Order. She has always had a rivalry with the Trinity for directly contradicting them with her existence. Because of this, her dates with Niki have to remain a secret, or else she'll be demoted again. Currently she's filling the paws of Antfrost as God of Love until he comes back, or a new heir is born.

Hannahxxrose The God of Nature. She mostly hangs out on Earth, tending to gardens worldwide, but she stays in heaven an ample amount too. She was literally born from Foolish's idea to create nature for earth, which she then assisted in plans for.

JSchlatt The God of Sin. He was originally a Greater God, but he had to be demoted so that the human race wouldn't be absolutely fucked. He's technically in charge of the Underworld, but he doesn't do jack shit down there. He's a raging alcoholic, and is always complaining about heart problems. His best friend is Minx.

Eret The God of Power. He isn't part nymph or anything, but the nymphs respect him and have crowned him as their king. He gladly accepts this role. His best friend is Foolish.

MINIGODS

Less powerful gods.

GeorgeNotFound The God of Beauty. He is fully aware that DXD is in love with him, but he doesn't want to reciprocate for fear of the rule. Still, he hasn't ratted him out... yet. He often hangs out with Sapnap, and he used to hang out with Dream, but he has become more distant as of late.

Mamacita The God of Justice. Also known as Girl Dream. She was removed from the Trinity for loving Mexican Dream after he was demoted. Since she and him still have a lot of power, they've been tasked with running the Underworld. Her mask has the :/ emoticon on it.

Mexican Dream The God of Death. Was removed from the Trinity for generally being a dumbass. He co-runs the Underworld with his Mamacita. He has also adopted Quackity as a twin. His mask has the ;] emoticon on it.

Quackity The God of Humor. He doesn't do a whole lot, just hangs out with his fiancés and his unofficial twin. An absolute jokester.

Slimecicle The God of Joy. A lovable goof who has never done a thing wrong in his life. He has a human wife, Grace, and his son is Connor. He skips around heaven a lot, and often hangs out with the angels.

Ranboo The God of Identity. He is *platonically* married to Tubbo (so Dream can't technically punish him!) He has a son, Michael, and he often hangs out with the demigods. He is considered the least powerful full god. He has a habit of forgetting things and also a habit of stealing all the gender from the other members of the Pantheon.

Niki Nihachu The God of Grace. She mainly takes care of the children along with Sam Nook, and hangs around the water nymphs. Her best friend is Sally.

Jack Manifold The God of Spirit. Previously nicknamed 'Thunder', he is an epic gamer lad. He famously invented 3D glasses and also Britain.

Ponk The God of Bravery. Has had an age-old rivalry with Antfrost because of his fear of cats for eons, and he is quite happy that he's gone. He has a strained love for Sam, which they have to keep secret. Only Sam has seen the rest of his face, under the mask.

DEMIGODS

Half gods, half humans. They are free to travel between earth and heaven.

Tommyinnit The youngest son of Philza and Kristin. A rambunctious teenager who is quite popular among the gods, especially Drista. Often flirts with the goddesses, and always says he has a crush on the Queen of England.

Tubbo The middle son of Philza and Kristin. A chaotic man-child and also goat boy. He is absouletly adored by the Trinity. He has a "platonic" husband, Ranboo, and a son, Michael.

Wilbur The eldest son of Philza and Kristin. A musical prodigy, who is an adult but doesn't quite act like one. He has a wife, Sally the water nymph, and a son, Fundy.

ConnorEatsPants The only son of Slimecicle and Grace. He is a massive sonic fan. If you asked life advice from him, he would tell you that the only problem with being faster than light is that you can only live in darkness.

SEMIGODS

Demigods, except it's not a 50/50 split between God and human. Other races can also be added.

Fundy The son of Wilbur and Sally. He is 25% God, 25% Human, and 50% water nymph, but most importantly, 100% furry.

Michael The son of Ranboo and Tubbo. 75% God and 25% human. He's good friends with Technoblade because of their shared pigman-ness.

NYMPHS

Mythical and elemental creatures.

Sally A water nymph. Married to Wilbur and the mother of Fundy.

HBomb A rock nymph. Often helps Foolish with his builds.

Alyssa An air nymph. She's been wandering around the outskirts of heaven for an eon with Callahan.

Callahan An air nymph. Wandering with Alyssa.

Minx A fire nymph. Best friends with Schlatt and Niki.

ANGELS

Heavenly servants.

Punz First archangel. He's currently the Trinity's bitch, but if you offered him enough money he would absolutely betray them.

Purpled Second archangel. He just follows Punz around and helps him with his tasks. He isn't very devoted to his job. He was the one who came up with the idea of space.

Red Velvet Third archangel. He has fleed heaven with his boyfriend Antfrost. He's working as a baker on earth.

Michael McChill Replacement third archangel. He was created out of a necessity for three archangels, and he isn't very well adjusted. He has no motivation and has only talked to Philza.

Vikkstar The guardian angel of all the demi/semigods. When he's not watching over them, he is hanging out with Lazar.

Lazarbeam The general of the heavenly guard. He slacks off very much, and often hangs out with Vikkstar. Aggravated easily.

Clara The first angel, and the most wise. She is seen as an oracle and is prayed to as frequently as the gods. She often hangs out in Tommy's dreams.

Sam Nook An altered copy of Sam, made to be a nanny to Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur. Now he takes care of young Fundy and Michael.

HUMANS

Just like you and me. Except some are dead.

Kristin Married to Philza and mother of Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur. When she died, Mamacita offered her a job as the Grim Reaper so that she could hang out with Phil more often.

Grace Married to Slimecicle and mother to Connor. Is the second Grim Reaper, alongside Kristin.

Ghostbur Human clone of Wilbur that Foolish accidentally made when fooling around with the demigods. Has since died and chills out in the animal sector with his sheep, Friend.

Lani Tubbo's sister from his old foster family on earth, who he lives near. Knows everything about everyone in the Pantheon, somehow.

Corpse Husband The janitor of the Underworld. Was a massive sinner when he was alive, but managed to convince Mamacita to let him work for her instead of suffering for eternity.

Mr Beast A generous billionare who runs a private church for the rich in his town. He communes with Karl on the condition that he won't try to gain things for himself using him.

5up A turnip farmer who died and now hangs around Fundy.

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Alright. That's it. So. Much. Typing. My fingers hurt. I accidentally deleted all my progress around the halfway point but I persevered. Also, this blog will be used for designs of the AU characters I'll be making. Thanks for reading this far!

Bye. Thanks again.

Oh wait now I have to add a shit ton of tags ughhhh

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