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ganymedesclock · 3 years

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These are questions I've had for some while and it's hard to find someone who'll answer with grace. This mostly relates to disabilities (mental or physical) in fiction.

1) What makes a portrayal of a disability that's harming the character in question ableist?

2) Is there a way to write a disabled villain in a way that isn't ableist?

In the circles I've been in, the common conceptions are you can't use a character's disability as a plot point or showcase it being a hindrance in some manner. heaven forbid you make your villain disabled in some capacity, that's a freaking death sentence to a creative's image. I understand historically villains were the only characters given disabilities, but (and this is my personal experience) I've not seen as many disabled villains nowadays, heck, I see more disabled heroes in media nowadays.

Sorry if this comes off as abrasive, I'd really like to be informed for future media consumption and my own creative endeavors.

Okay so the first thing I'm going to say is that while it IS a good idea to talk to disabled people and get their feedback, disabled people are not a monolith and they aren't going to all have the same take on how this goes.

My personal take is biased in favor that I'm a neurodivergent person (ADHD and autism) who has no real experience with physical disabilities, so I won't speak for physically disabled people- heck, I won't even speak for every neurotype. Like I say, people aren't a monolith.

For myself and my own writing of disabled characters, here's a couple of concepts I stick by:

Research is your friend

Think about broad conventions of ableism

Be mindful of cast composition

1. Research is your friend

Yeah this is the thing everybody says, so here's the main bases I try to cover:

What's the story on this character's disability?

Less in terms of 'tragic angst' and more, what kind of condition this is- because a congenital amputee (that is to say, someone who was born without a limb) will have a different relationship to said limb absence than someone who lost their limb years ago to someone who lost their limb yesterday. How did people in their life respond to it, and how did they respond to it? These responses are not "natural" and will not be the same to every person with every worldview. This can also be a great environment to do worldbuilding in! Think about the movie (and the tv series) How To Train Your Dragon. The vikings in that setting don't have access to modern medicine, and they're, well, literally fighting dragons and other vikings. The instance of disability is high, and the medical terminology to talk about said disabilities is fairly lackluster- but in a context where you need every man you possibly can to avoid the winter, the mindset is going to be not necessarily very correct, but egalitarian. You live in a village of twenty people and know a guy who took a nasty blow to the head and hasn't quite been the same ever since? "Traumatic Brain Injury" is probably not going to be on your lips, but you're also probably going to just make whatever peace you need to and figure out how to accommodate Old Byron for his occasional inability to find the right word, stammers and trembles. In this example, there are several relevant pieces of information- what the character's disability is (aphasia), how they got it (brain injury), and the culture and climate around it (every man has to work, and we can't make more men or throw them away very easily, so, how can we make sure this person can work even if we don't know what's wrong with them)

And that dovetails into:

What's the real history, and modern understandings, of this?

This is where "knowing the story" helps a lot. To keep positing our hypothetical viking with a brain injury, I can look into brain injuries, what affects their extent and prognosis, and maybe even beliefs about this from the time period and setting I'm thinking of (because people have had brains, and brain injuries, the entire time!) Sure, if the setting is fantastical, I have wiggle room, but looking at inspirations might give me a guide post.

Having a name for your disorder also lets you look for posts made by specific people who live with the condition talking about their lives. This is super, super important for conditions stereotyped as really scary, like schizophrenia or narcissistic personality disorder. Even if you already know "schizophrenic people are real and normal" it's still a good thing to wake yourself up and connect with others.

2. Think about broad conventions of ableism

It CAN seem very daunting or intimidating to stay ahead of every single possible condition that could affect someone's body and mind and the specific stereotypes to avoid- there's a lot under the vast umbrella of human experience and we're learning more all the time! A good hallmark is, ableism has a few broad tendencies, and when you see those tendencies rear their head, in your own thinking or in accounts you read by others, it's good to put your skeptical glasses on and look closer. Here's a few that I tend to watch out for:

Failing the “heartwarming dog” test

This was a piece of sage wisdom that passed my eyeballs, became accepted as sage wisdom, and my brain magnificently failed to recall where I saw it. Basically, if you could replace your disabled character with a lovable pet who might need a procedure to save them, and it wouldn’t change the plot, that’s something to look into.

Disability activists speak often about infantilization, and this is a big thing of what they mean- a lot of casual ableism considers disabled people as basically belonging to, or being a burden onto, the able-bodied and neurotypical. This doesn’t necessarily even need to have an able neurotypical in the picture- a personal experience I had that was extremely hurtful was at a point in high school, I decided to do some research on autism for a school project. As an autistic teenager looking up resources online, I was very upset to realize that every single resource I accessed at the time presumed it was talking to a neurotypical parent about their helpless autistic child. I was looking for resources to myself, yet made to feel like I was the subject in a conversation.

Likewise, many wheelchair users have relayed the experience of, when they, in their chair, are in an environment accompanied by someone else who isn’t using a chair, strangers would speak to the standing person exclusively, avoiding addressing the chair user.

It’s important to always remind yourself that at no point do disabled people stop being people. Yes, even people who have facial deformities; yes, even people who need help using the bathroom; yes, even people who drool; yes, even people whose conditions impact their ability to communicate, yes, even people with cognitive disabilities. They are people, they deserve dignity, and they are not “a child trapped in a 27-year-old body”- a disabled adult is still an adult. All of the “trying to learn the right rules” in the world won’t save you if you keep an underlying fear of non-normative bodies and minds.

This also has a modest overlap between disability and sexuality in particular. I am an autistic grayromantic ace. Absolutely none of my choices or inclinations about sex are because I’m too naive or innocent or childlike to comprehend the notion- disabled people have as diverse a relationship with sexuality as any other. That underlying fear- as mentioned before- can prevent many people from imagining that, say, a wheelchair user might enjoy sex and have experience with it. Make sure all of your disabled characters have full internal worlds.

Poor sickly little Tiffany and the Red Right Hand

A big part of fictional ableism is that it separates the disabled into two categories. Anybody who’s used TVTropes would recognize the latter term I used here. But to keep it brief:

Poor, sickly little Tiffany is cute. Vulnerable. How her disability affects her life is that it constantly creates a pall of suffering that she lives beneath. After all, having a non-normative mind or body must be an endless cavalcade of suffering and tragedy, right? People who are disabled clearly spend their every waking moment affected by, and upset, that they aren’t normal!

The answer is... No, actually. Cut the sad violin; even people who have chronic pain who are literally experiencing pain a lot more than the rest of us are still fully capable of living complex lives and being happy. If nothing else, it would be literally boring to feel nothing but awful, and people with major depression or other problems still, also, have complicated experiences. And yes, some of it’s not great. You don’t have to present every disability as disingenuously a joy to have. But make a point that they own these things. It is a very different feeling to have a concerned father looking through the window at his angel-faced daughter rocking sadly in her wheelchair while she stares longingly out the window, compared to a character waking up at midnight because they have to go do something and frustratedly hauling their body out of their bed into their chair to get going.

Poor Sickly Little Tiffany (PSLT, if you will) virtually always are young, and they virtually always are bound to the problems listed under ‘failing the heartwarming dog’ test. Yes, disabled kids exist, but the point I’m making here is that in the duality of the most widely accepted disabled characters, PSLT embodies the nadir of the Victim, who is so pure, so saintly, so gracious, that it can only be a cruel quirk of fate that she’s suffering. After all, it’s not as if disabled people have the same dignity that any neurotypical and able-bodied person has, where they can be an asshole and still expect other people to not seriously attack their quality of life- it’s a “service” for the neurotypical and able-bodied to “humor” them.

(this is a bad way to think. Either human lives matter or they don’t. There is no “wretched half-experience” here- if you wouldn’t bodily grab and yank around a person standing on their own feet, you have no business grabbing another person’s wheelchair)

On the opposite end- and relevant to your question- is the Red Right Hand. The Red Right Hand does not have PSLT’s innocence or “purity”- is the opposite extreme. The Red Right Hand is virtually always visually deformed, and framed as threatening for their visual deformity. To pick on a movie I like a fair amount, think about how in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the title character is described- “Strong. Fast. Had a metal arm.” That’s a subtle example, but, think about how that metal arm is menacing. Sure, it’s a high tech weapon in a superhero genre- but who has the metal arm? The Winter Soldier, who is, while a tormented figure that ultimately becomes more heroic- scary. Aggressive. Out for blood.

The man who walks at midnight with a Red Right Hand is a signal to us that his character is foul because of the twisting of his body. A good person, we are led to believe, would not be so- or a good person would be ashamed of their deformity and work to hide it. The Red Right Hand is not merely “an evil disabled person”- they are a disabled person whose disability is depicted as symptomatic of their evil, twisted nature, and when you pair this trope with PSLT, it sends a message: “stay in your place, disabled people. Be sad, be consumable, and let us push you around and decide what to do with you. If you get uppity, if you have ideas, if you stand up to us, then the thing that made you a helpless little victim will suddenly make you a horrible monster, and justify us handling you with inhumanity.”

As someone who is a BIG fan of eldritch horror and many forms of unsettling “wrongness” it is extremely important to watch out for the Red Right Hand. Be careful how you talk about Villainous Disability- there is no connection between disability and morality. People will be good, bad, or simply just people entirely separate from their status of ability or disability. It’s just as ableist to depict every disabled person as an innocent good soul as it is to exclusively deal in grim and ghastly monsters.

Don’t justify disabilities and don’t destroy them.

Superpowers are cool. Characters can and IMO should have superpowers, as long as you’re writing a genre when they’re there.

BUT.

It’s important to remember that there is no justification for disabilities, because they don’t need one. Disability is simply a feature characters have. You do not need to go “they’re blind, BUT they can see the future”

This is admittedly shaky, and people can argue either way; the Blind Seer is a very pronounced mythological figure and an interesting philosophical point about what truly matters in the world. There’s a reason it exists as a conceit. But if every blind character is blind in a way that completely negates that disability or makes it meaningless- this sucks. People have been blind since the dawn of time. And people will always accommodate their disabilities in different ways. Even if the technology exists to fix some forms of blindness, there are people who will have “fixable” blindness and refuse to treat it. There will be individuals born blind who have no meaningful desire to modify this. And there are some people whose condition will be inoperable even if it “shouldn’t” be.

You don’t need to make your disabled characters excessively cool, or give them a means by which the audience can totally forget they’re disabled. Again, this is a place where strong worldbuilding is your buddy- a handwave of “x technology fixed all disabilities”, in my opinion, will never come off good. If, instead, however, you throw out a careless detail that the cool girl the main character is chatting up in a cyberpunk bar has an obvious spinal modification, and feature other characters with prosthetics and without- I will like your work a lot, actually. Even if you’re handing out a fictional “cure”- show the seams. Make it have drawbacks and pros and cons. A great example of this is in the series Full Metal Alchemist- the main character has two prosthetic limbs, and not only do these limbs come with problems, some mundane (he has phantom limb pains, and has to deal with outgrowing his prostheses or damaging them in combat) some more fantastical (these artificial limbs are connected to his nerves to function fluidly- which means that they get surgically installed with no anesthesia and hurt like fuck plugging in- and they require master engineering to stay in shape). We explicitly see a scene of the experts responsible for said limbs talking to a man who uses an ordinary prosthetic leg, despite the advantages of an automail limb, because these drawbacks are daunting to him and he is happier with a simple prosthetic leg.

Even in mundane accommodations you didn’t make up- no two wheelchair users use their chair the exact same way, and there’s a huge diversity of chairs. Someone might be legally blind but still navigate confidently on their own; they might use a guide dog, or they might use a cane. They might even change their needs from situation to situation!

Disability accommodations are part of life

This ties in heavily to the previous point, but seriously! Don’t just look up one model of cane and superimpose it with no modifications onto your character- think about what their lifestyle is, and what kind of person they are!

Also medication is not the devil. Yes, medical abuse is real and tragic and the medication is not magic fairy dust that solves all problems either. But also, it’s straight ableism to act like anybody needing pills for any reason is a scary edgy plot twist.

(and addiction is a disease. Please be careful, and moreover be compassionate, if you’re writing a character who’s an addict)

3. Be mindful of cast composition

This, to me, is a big tip about disability writing and it’s also super easy to implement!

Just make sure your cast has a lot of meaningful disabled characters in it!

Have you done all the work you can to try and dodge the Red Right Hand but you’re still worried your disabled villain is a bad look? They sure won’t look like a commentary on disability if three other people in the cast are disabled and don’t have the same outlook or role! Worried that you’re PSLT-ing your main character’s disabled child? Maybe the disability is hereditary and they got it from the main character!

The more disabled characters you have, the more it will challenge you to think about what their individual relationship is with the world and the less you’ll rely on hackneyed tropes. At least, ideally.

Ultimately, there’s no perfect silver bullet of diversity writing that will prevent a work from EVER being ableist, but I hope this helped, at least!

#disability #writing ruminations #readmore

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angelz-dust · 4 years

Text

masters of none (jason todd x reader)

summary: welcome to my jason x celebrity fic, based on this headcanon. pls enjoy.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: gun mention. food mention.

part 2

626 bedford avenue

baby let's have a conversation and god forbid we have a connection

...

"are you sure? i don't wanna leave your here alone," dex had said to you as he put his jacket on. the two of you were in the studio when he got a sudden invite to a party.

"i'll be fine. i just wanna finish this track tonight. or attempt to, i guess," you explained, spinning in your chair to face him. you watched as he used his wooden military brush to fix his waves. "everyone else is going so you should go."

"you should also go," he chuckled, shaking his head before sighing and pocketing the brush. "at least let me take you home now."

"i have to finish this, dex. seriously. just go," you told him, turning back around to face the monitor.

"fine, but i'm coming back when it's over and i'm taking you home. i don't care if you're not done or passed out on the couch," he told you firmly, grabbing his keys off the coffee table. "are you hungry? i can get you something to eat."

"i already ate."

you did not, but you weren't hungry. you were too invested in working to be hungry. you'd eat later when he picked you up.

"alright. make sure the doors are locked when i leave. you know where the gun is, right?" he asked and you lifted your arm up, giving him a thumbs up. you had your headphones back on and were about to focus on that again. he rolled his eyes before leaving, making sure the doors were locked himself.

your work in progress played loudly in your ears as you stared at the meticulously placed loops on the monitor. you didn't like hearing your own voice but you loved the rush of putting together the puzzle that was a song, so you let it go. you worked for hours, unmoving from your spot until you felt a familiar tingle make place in your temples. a hunger headache was coming on and staring at the monitor, probably without blinking, wasn't helping.

it was midnight and dex probably wouldn't get back until 2 or 3. you weren't sure if you'd last that long. there were snacks in the mini fridge that could tide you over but it wouldn't be satisfying. you stood up, your legs feeling like jelly from not being used for so long. your ass had gone numb, too.

you wobbled your way to the fridge of wonders, resting on it to balance yourself as you opened it. you were looking for the yogurt you had stashed in there but...

"fucking jordy," you breathed out, recalling how he had eaten it that morning before you both left for your video with gotham insider.

...

"hey, i'm jordy rivas."

"and i'm y/n l/n."

"we're here with gotham insider and we'll be answering your burning questions."

you had a bucket filled with slips of paper in your lap as you waited for the cue to start picking. you took in your surroundings, not being able to see much with the bright lights illuminating you from above and keep everyone else in the dark. sometimes you couldn't tell if you were on set or on an operating table. jordy, your group mate, noticed that you two had plenty of questions to answer as he peered into the bucket.

how you got here was still a blur. your rise to stardom alongside your friends felt so sudden, it was hard to believe. you didn't expect to have such a large following at this point, or ever. and you never thought you'd have a band of brothers and sisters who loved music as much as you did. it was like a dream come true. not only did you have them but you were able to expand your horizons musically. you were just a below average producer before but now you produced music of all genres at such a high caliber. hell, you even sang a little now.

being a celebrity was overwhelming at times, but you loved interacting with fans or the family, as you affectionately called them. you'd take a simple q&a or fan meet over an award show or social event any day.

"alright, go ahead and start," a staff member said from behind the camera and you stuck your hand in at the same time as jordy, both pulling out a slip.

"how did you guys come up with the name cloud 9?" jordy read from his slip.

"stockholm syndrome," you said simply, getting a little laugh from jordy and some staff before he spoke up to explain.

"we were unofficially going by seven heavens before y/n and dex came along. we had just dropped music under our own names before but we couldn't really do that if we were going to do a group album so we needed a name."

"we were just producing a song each for the album," you spoke up to clarify. "i decided to call our studio session 'on cloud nine' since it fit with the theme of the group and there were nine of us working together."

"then we realized y/n and dex were geniuses and we asked them to produce the whole album," jordy chimed in with a smile. "they had already put so much work into it, so we asked them to join the label and we dropped the album as cloud 9."

best decision i ever made, you thought to yourself, a smile playing on your lips. on cloud nine took ages to produce but the results were worth it. for you, it was more than the money and the charts. creating music was a labor of love and an extension of yourself. you helped create a piece of art that you loved and allowed others to love too. it was the greatest feeling in the world.

"next question is... how do you guys decide who collaborates on what and when you do it?" you read, shrugging your shoulders softly. "we just do it on a whim. covers, singles, eps, full albums, it doesn't matter. we still operate as a group but sometimes we wanna do our own separate projects. we're in charge of ourselves so we do what we want."

the rest of the questions were pretty tame, mostly asking about your music and your label mates. occasionally they got more personal, asking about your interests and families. you both answered with enthusiasm, joking around a little and keeping certain things private when you felt necessary or when you were contractually obligated to. can't go around spilling secrets about upcoming music and other projects.

you and jordy were actually working on an album but it hadn't been announced yet. that was why you two came together, as a way of hinting at it and getting ready for promotions to come. the album was nothing like what you both normally did in a lot of different ways. the sound, the aesthetic, all of it. it was an ambitious project and you were looking forward to seeing how it would be perceived.

you were just about done with the q&a, pulling out the last question from the bucket that jordy had then ceremoniously punted out of frame.

"who is your favorite vigilante? i don't know actually. i've never thought about it," you softly clicked your tongue with a pensive look.

"i like signal," jordy answered as you thought it over. "i saw him kick ass up close one time and he has a cool costume."

"i like nightwing's costume! uniform? whatever," you said with a confused shake of the head, not really sure what to call it. "the blue bird is cool. i personally enjoy the color blue, so he gets points for that. it's a sexy shade of blue."

that last part elicited some laughter from jordy. "is that some roundabout way of you saying nightwing turns you on?"

"it's a direct way of me saying i like the color blue," you corrected him. "but yeah, he looks like he'd be hot. it has no bearing on how i feel about the blue, though. two separate feelings."

"who else is there? you got batman and robin. red robin. uh..." jordy trailed off, trying to think.

"batgirl," you supplied, getting a nod from him. "orphan? right? and uh..."

"red hood!" jordy said with a smile. "that dude is cool as hell. i like his jacket."

"doesn't he shoot people?" the staff laughed again at your delivery of the question. clearly you were on a roll today.

"he doesn't have a hood, though," you realized, looking perplexed. "why is he red hood if he doesn't have a hood? why doesn't he just call himself... red helmet?"

"because that's fucking stupid," jordy said through his laugher, shoulder bouncing. that would have to be censored in post.

"he's fucking stupid."

that too.

the staff watched as the two of you managed to go off on this tangent that had nothing to do with the original question. one of the interns looked to the camera man, who looked equally intrigued and confused at where the conversation had gone. "do we... stop them? we're going over on time."

the camera man shrugged and the manager shook her head. "god, no. do not stop them. this is gold."

"he doesn't need a hood, y/n. it's just a name. nightwing doesn't have wings," he reminded you and you rolled your eyes, a subtle pout on your lips.

"yeah but the bird does. it's still on brand. just like batman. and robin. and red robin. and signal. and batgirl," you listed matter of factly.

"what about orphan? is she an orphan?" jordy asked you with attitude.

"probably, bitch. why else would she call herself that?" you said, the both of you riled up now, hence all the sudden cursing. you two kept it (mostly) clean up until this point. "red hood is the only one off brand."

"why are you being a hater right now?" jordy asked with lopsided grimace and you rolled your eyes. "you completely derailed the conversation."

"oh, i'm sorry. i didn't realize you were on his payroll."

"red hood doesn't need payola. he's cool by himself."

"why are you dick sucking red hood?"

"don't ever say that shit again," jordy said immediately, almost cutting you off at the end of your question.

he crossed his arms, looking annoyed as you looked into the camera with a blank expression. you were trying to fight it, but a tight lipped smile appeared on your face, making you look down and scratch the tip your nose lightly with your nail. then your ear. then back down to the side of your neck. your body shook with silent laughter when you glanced at him.

"i'm sorry," you said convincingly after having collected yourself in record time, just barely getting cut off by jordy again.

"no you're not."

"no i'm not," you shook your head, your facade dropping as quickly as it was put on. "you still haven't answered the-"

"i hope red hood shoots you," he told you seriously, giving you a blank look. your jaw dropped, a surprised noise that almost sounded like laughter came out of your mouth as you looked back at the camera. you knew that he was just playing around but it didn't change the fact that it outrageously juvenile.

it was silent. you and jordy knew this was just friendly bickering but the staff weren't too sure. you rubbed the inside of your cheek with your tongue, slowly dragging it over your teeth as you contemplated his words.

red hood wouldn't actually shoot you. right? he's a bit more morally gray from what you've heard about him but he wouldn't just shoot somebody for making a joke, would he? that seemed kind of ridiculous. overkill, if you will.

your eyes darted between jordy and the camera. back at him. then the camera. jordy again. your head jerked a little in his direction before fully turning to look at him.

"do you think he'd actually shoot me?" you asked quietly, looking at him with a smile on your face as your expressions quickly mirrored each other.

"i would," he told you and you laughed, looking at the camera again.

"mr. red hood, if you're watching his, m-my bad bro," you stuttered through yours and jordy's laughter. "i was just talking shit. please don't shoot me. i-if you don't i'll uh... i'll be your bard!"

"what the fuck?" jordy cried out, hiding his face in his hands as he laughed harder.

"i will write and sing about your adventures and conquests," you pleaded with the man who definitely wasn't going to see. you made a heart by lifting your arms up and having your fingers meet at the top of your head. it was really a waste of time in hindsight but you had to cover your bases just in case he did see it. getting shot was not on your bucket list. "please don't shoot me. seriously. i didn't meant it."

"that's all the questions we had," jordy's voice was pitchy from all the laughing. "i'm jordy."

"and i'm y/n," you smiled, doing a little dance as you stayed in your heart position before waving with jordy. "byeeee!"

...

you weren't entirely sure how long you had been standing there with the door open, letting all the cold air out of the fridge. you assumed it was too long since your nipples felt hard as rocks now, which only added a layer to how uncomfortable you felt. your stomach was touching your back at this point and that headache wasn't going anywhere. and now your nipples felt like they were going to fall off. you were pretty sure exhaustion was going to start claiming on you, too.

killing yourself seemed to be the only option and what you were thinking of doing was practically suicide. you wanted to go walk to the corner store that had the yogurt. your craving was too strong. you needed it and waiting for dex was not an option. there was nothing of substance in the fridge anyway. just drinks and snacks that weren't yours to eat.

a normal person could probably do it and not die. but you were in gotham and you were convinced that the moment you opened the door killer croc or one of the penguin's goons would be waiting for you.

taking the gun would be the smart thing to do but you didn't feel comfortable walking around with it. the feeling of cold steel against your skin was unsettling and the chance of it going off on you was even scarier. yes, you would have the safety on, but that wasn't enough to ease your mind. it felt like walking around with a bomb strapped to your chest. you didn't even wanna think about it dropping it or something while you were in the store. you were sure the ock wouldn't like that.

you grabbed your keys, slipping the wristband on. you had a little card holder and pepper spray hanging off the key ring. you also had a small switchblade for all your stabbing needs. you hadn't used it for murderous intent yet and you wanted to keep it that way.

i'll have red hood put me out of my misery, you thought morbidly to yourself. maybe jordy wishing death on you this morning was a blessing in disguise because you were progressively feeling more like shit with each passing moment.

you braced yourself for the crisp nighttime air and the dangers lurking around every corner before opening the door. it was dark, as expected. you had your hands stuffed in the pockets of your sweatpants. your right hand rested right on top of your phone carefully stashed away in the black polyester pocket.

your sense of direction was, to put it lightly, dog shit, and the pitch blackness of night wasn't helping. you had your airpods in with the gps telling you where to go. if it had a mind of its own, it would probably be judging you for needing to locate a building that was 5 minutes away. nevertheless, hearing the robo voice in your ears was oddly comforting.

the walk there wasn't that bad once you got to the area with all the traffic, illuminated with fluorescent lighting from the surrounding stores. it was the first time you felt comfortable under blinding white light.

you walked into the store quietly, beelining for the cold food section. you grabbed hot fries and sour skittles on your way over for dex, wanting to soften the blow for when you told him you left the studio by yourself. you spotted the salted caramel flavor through the condensation on the glass and you could already taste the creamy treat on your tongue. you smiled to yourself, grabbing the handle to the door when you heard the automatic door to the store open, accompanied by a chime.

"hey, man, what's going on?" you heard the voice of the cashier from behind you. you grabbed your yogurt and turned around, freezing in place when you saw who had entered.

red hood!

you could hear jordy's enthusiastic voice from this morning bounce around in your head like a pinball. the man you had been talking shit about earlier was right in front of you. jesus christ, was he there for you? how did he even find you? the video hadn't even dropped yet!

he must have felt your intense gaze burning a hole in the side of his head because he turned to face you. thankfully, you slid to the side, hiding behind the chips. he knew you were there and that you had been staring at him, even though he didn't catch you in the act. you attempting to hide yourself behind the buy two, get one free mini chip bags was slightly suspicious, but to be fair, he did just walk into a public place as red hood, so he let it go. turning back to salim, the cashier, he grabbed the bag of m&m's he had slid him.

he always paid for the things he picked out when he came to the store, but salim always gave him m&m's for free. red hood kept his store and community safe, so in salim's eyes, giving him candy that only cost a dollar anyway was nothing.

you started grabbing some other snacks, slowly weaving through the aisles as to not cause alarm to the huge man standing not to far from you. you knew he was big but fuck. he was built like a freight train. probably hit like one, too.

"anyone give you trouble tonight?" you heard a voice, his voice. it was distorted behind that mask... helmet... thing. it sounded robotic. was he actually a robot? like cyborg or something?

"nah, it's been quiet tonight," salim shook his head as the vigilante grabbed a little bag of cookies from the shelf behind him, setting it on the counter before asking for a carton of cigarettes. "i heard that jewelry store on bedford ave got hit though."

bedford avenue? your studio was on bedford avenue, tucked away from the main street. the store wasn't too far from it, either. you must have been so wrapped up in working that you didn't hear the commotion because it was definitely close enough for you to hear it.

"just came from there," the vigilante informed him, his robotic voice being both intriguing and off putting to you. he walked back over with the warm cup of liquid in his gloved hand, setting it on the counter next to the cookies.

must have just missed it then, you thought to yourself, if he just came from over there. lucky me.

"you alright, honey?" salim called out to you with familiar affection. he always treated everyone who came to his store with respect and like family. he was always very sweet to you and he felt a sense of pride knowing that he had both celebrities and vigilantes frequenting his store.

"don't tell me you're trying to rob me," he added on at the end, getting the attention of red hood. he wasn't sure if salim was being serious or not. it would confirm his suspicions about your weird behavior from earlier. it would be kind of ballsy to try something while he was standing there, though.

"uh... yeah. this is a stick up. give me everything you got," you said lamely, standing on your toes to peek at him over the shelf.

salim's rich laughter filled the store and he shook his head. "just checking," he said before redirecting his attention to red hood, who loosened up when he realized it was just banter between friends.

you realized the longer you spent in the store, the later it would get. you waddled your way over to the counter with your snacks in your arms a comfortable distance away from red hood, who set cash on the counter. he looked over at you again, making you shrink under his gaze. he was essentially faceless, which was a little unsettling, to say the least. he turned away, grabbing his things and moving out of your way.

you put all of your snacks on the counter, trying to ignore the man's presence. he wasn't doing anything but being intimidating.

"you here by yourself, honey?" concern laced salim's words as he rung up your snacks. "it's a little late, isn't it?"

"oh, uh, yeah," you nodded, pulling your card out to pay. "everyone else is at a party in maywood."

as red hood was walking out, his brow furrowed when he heard what you were talking about. maywood was where all the big social events took place. he had been out there a few times with bruce. not anyone could go to a party out there so...

"ah, one of those celebrity parties you all go to, huh?" salim grinned, giving you your bag of goodies. he still felt unsure about you being by yourself, though. "hey, red! you should walk her back home."

he was almost out the door when he heard salim call out to him. he turned, looking at the both of you. you felt awkward looking at him and you quickly shook your head.

"no, no, it's fine. the studio isn't far," you told him and salim firmly shook his head in protest.

"it's late. you shouldn't have even walked here to begin with," he scolded you a little. it was just out of concern, of course. "she's a big time celebrity, you know."

you frowned at salim's description of you. not being able to read red hood's expressions to gauge how he felt about this whole thing was frustrating, too. he was probably glaring daggers at you.

"i can take you," the robotic voice said. normally he wouldn't be escorting civilians around but he was done for the night and if you really weren't that far, it wouldn't kill him to walk you back to wherever you were headed. he was in a good mood, even if it didn't appear that way.

"see? let the man take you back," salim pushed and you complied, giving him a little nod. "you two stay safe out there! i don't need my favorite customers getting hurt."

you waved goodbye to salim, turning to see that red hood had already started walking off. you quickly shuffled your way out to follow behind him.

"where are we going?" he asked, not even giving you a glance as you both stood on the sidewalk.

"bedford," you said quietly and he turned to face you, his look of disbelief hidden under the mask. why the hell would you leave? you had to have left while the heist was still going on. no wonder salim asked him to take you home. clearly you had a death wish.

"lead the way," he said to you, trailing behind you as you listened to the gps tell you where to go. you hoped he didn't have supersonic hearing or something, because needing to use the gps was still kind of embarrassing.

you two walked in silence, the sound of your plastic bags and the ambient city noises being the only sounds ringing in your ears. you felt a little safer having red hood as your temporary bodyguard but you'd rather risk dying to avoid the awkward silence.

"so big time celebrity," red hood spoke up, startling you a little. you almost thought it was the gps talking to you. "what do you do?"

he knew you were feeling awkward and probably afraid walking with him. he wasn't trying to scare you, though. he figured talking to you would ease the tension a little.

"oh, uh... music," you said simply.

what a dry response. were you expecting him to carry the whole conversation? because he wasn't.

"why are you out here and not in maywood?" he asked, carrying the conversation anyway.

"the studio is here so i'm here."

"so you're working?"

"yeah."

you were not fun to talk to. he wasn't going to hold it against you though. he himself probably didn't come off as a guy who wanted to talk.

"do you shoot just anyone?" you asked suddenly.

well that was one hell of an icebreaker. did he just shoot anyone? where the hell did that come from? were you that afraid of him?

"no," he said, hoping you couldn't hear his smile in his words. it was such an odd question to ask. "why? you think i'm gonna shoot you or something?"

"are you?" you asked panicked, whipping around to face him.

he put his hands up in mock surrender, letting out a laugh this time. "relax. you haven't given me a reason to want to shoot you. or have you?"

"i hope not," you said honestly, turning back around to continue walking.

"i'm not going to shoot some innocent girl, let alone a famous one. it's a bad look," he explained to you, hoping the humor behind his voice would make you relax a little.

"why don't you wear a hood?" your line of questioning continued. "you're red hood but you don't wear a hood."

"why do you keep asking ridiculous questions?" he asked rhetorically before answering your question anyway. "a hood doesn't protect the face."

well, that made sense, actually. it looked like that helmet thing he wore was made of metal or something. much better protection than cotton. it was still off brand but you could respect it.

"what the hell are you wearing?" the man had exclaimed suddenly, making you furrow your brows and look back at him. his gaze was down at your feet. "how did i not notice those before?"

"clearly that stupid helmet obstructs your vision," you pouted, looking down at the cute bunnies that sat on the strip of your pink slides. "they're my slides."

"they're hideous," he told you seriously and you scoffed.

what an asshole. how dare he insult your babies like that? they were minding their fucking business, chilling on your feet. they didn't asked to be attacked like this.

"you're hideous," you retorted childishly. "my bunnies are cute, thank you very much."

"how am i hideous? you can't even see me," he reminded you, tapping on his helmet.

"your outfit is hideous. you look like... i don't know. ugly. your face is probably ugly, too," you huffed, crossing your arms.

you wished you could go back in time and not apologize for insulting him earlier. he deserved it.

"you wound me," he said sarcastically, placing a hand over his heart. "how will i recover?"

"give me your gun and let's find out," you said, holding out your hand jokingly before getting it swatted away by his.

okay, fine. he wasn't that bad. you were actually kind of enjoying the conversation and so was he.

"arrived," you heard in your ears, looking up and seeing the studio right before your eyes.

you had been so wrapped up in bantering with him that you forgot what you were doing in the first place: going back to the studio. you almost felt disappointed that you were about to go your separate ways. you had just gotten comfortable.

"this is the place," you said, gesturing up to the building. "thank you for walking me here."

"try to keep your late night excursions to a minimum."

and with that, he used his grappling hook and disappeared into the shadows of the night. creepy. kinda cool but mostly creepy.

you walked around back to the side door, letting yourself back into the studio and locking up immediately afterwards. another successful snack run. now all you had to do was wait for dex to get back.

...

it had been about two weeks since your encounter with the vigilante. jason had long forgotten about it. he had been at the manor, lingering around after a meeting in the cave with bruce and his brothers. he didn't like sticking around once business was taken care of but alfred offered to make him chili dogs. it was a calculated move to get him to stick around and it worked.

tim was lounging on the arm chair while dick and damian were both seated on the couch. jason stood off to the side, directing his attention to the television that sat above the fireplace. tim had been watching youtube videos all day and stumbled across a gotham insider q&a that had a clickbait-y title about vigilantes. naturally, he was intrigued and wanted to watch it with the rest of them.

"what am i looking at?" he asked, taking a bite of his chili dog.

"something hilarious. i've been waiting to show you guys all day," tim explained, grabbing the remote.

"i hope this isn't something juvenile, drake," damian chimed, resting his body against the arm of the couch.

"or gross," dick co-signed with a grimace. "we just ate."

"just shut up and watch," he sighed, unpausing the video.

jason felt a little tingle in the back of his mind at your face was on the screen. you looked familiar. he silently watched as you and jordy discussed your feelings about vigilantes. dick snorted when he heard your comment about nightwing. tim began to snicker in anticipating for the main event: the red hood argument.

as jason watched, everything made sense. you were that weird girl he walked home. that was why you asked him those stupid questions. he was a little annoyed at you calling him stupid and off brand but he had to admit the segment was funny. especially the part at the end where you were begging him not to shoot you. you seemed so much more relaxed and naturally funny than you did when he was with you that night. it almost gave him whiplash.

"you should shoot her. for good measure," damian told jason once the clip ended, making the older boy roll his eyes.

"nah. i can't shoot my bard," he smiled, making dick smile too. he had expected jason to be all grumpy about getting talked about but he seemed to be taking it fairly well. tim was kinda disappointed that jason didn't seem more bothered by it. he wanted to tease him a little.

"i think red hood payola is probably the funniest thing i've heard in awhile," dick said, laughing along with tim. even damian cracked a little smile.

jason walked back to the kitchen, recalling that night he ran into you now that he had seen the video, finally understanding why you were acting so strange.

his bard, huh? cute...

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #batfam

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youarejesting · 4 years

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Limited Edition.3 Burger

[FULL MASTERLIST] [Limited Edition Master list]

Beta: N/A Rating: All audiences Genre: Fantasy, Comedy, Fluffy Fluff, Adventure. Pairing: Bts x Friend!Reader Words: 1.3K

Summary: It is your first time buying proper merchandise, there are new chibi figurines and the first person to order will recieve a limited edition set. But what happens when BTS have gone missing without a trace and a few days later you receive your package. The box says congratulations, you open to find your limited edition figures, they look so lifelike. OH WAIT! it’s cause they are.

"Anything else?" You asked them, holding in a bright smile and suppressing several squeals. They were just so adorable they could fit on your palm. You had to remain somewhat serious while these tiny men, they were still adults.

So you made sure to discuss their order with the utmost professionalism. Each agreeing to eat one burger between themselves and share a small sprite on Hoseok’s insistence.

Taking the phone you added something for yourself and hurriedly placed the order. You knew you could eat their leftovers and save yourself money, but you weren’t that close yet and thought it too intimate. “It will be here in fifteen minutes, in the meantime. I have to make a grocery list.”

You pulled out a pen and paper and started writing down your usual things like milk, bread, meat, cereal but you froze. Would they get sick with the sudden change of diet, what was their usual meals in Korea.

“What do you boys want to eat?” They thought for a brief moment before shouting out some suggestions.

“Kimchi fried rice”

“Samgyeopsal”

“Seolleongtang”

Freezing in place, you didn’t know how to make any of these things. As you wrote them down, Seokjin must have noticed your confusion and touched Jungkook’s shoulder. He gave the younger boys a look trying to calm their enthusiasm.

“We would be happy with whatever you make, we can’t expect you to know how to cook all these things” The eldest assured you, the boys all deflated looking embarrassed.

“I like spaghetti” Jungkook looked up hopeful and you wrote it down with a smile. That you definitely knew how to make.

“Steak” Namjoon grinned then held out his small hands in defense “Only If it is not too expensive”

While you waited for your food to arrive, you began thinking about where they would sleep and what they needed to live. They would have to go to the toilet and shower and so much more. You didn't know how this would work. Wanting to give them independence and privacy whilst also wanting to protect them from harm. Heaven forbid any of them, got hurt, or drowned in the toilet.

The food arrived, breaking you out of your thoughts. Everyone all gathered around, You unwrapped their burger and sat watching them while enjoying your own meal. Taehyung excitedly ripped open a ketchup sachet and proceeded to splatter sauce everywhere.

They all froze mouths hanging open in shock, the ketchup splashed across the bench. Pressing your lips shut tight you tried to hold yourself together. They turned to you as a collective trying to gauge your reaction, but you turned away unable to hide the shaking of your shoulders.

“Are you upset?” Taehyung’s voice a feeble sound, as he placed his hand on your elbow. You could feel the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“We will clean it up” Jimin called and they tried to grab a napkin from the bag, Seokjin and Jungkook grabbed the napkin at the same time and Jungkook ended up pulling too hard and Seokjin ended up tackling Jungkook.

You couldn’t hold it in. Laughing hysterically the tears flowing, you walked away with your hands on your sides. “I don’t think she was mad” Hoseok giggled taking a bite of the burger and pointing. “She has a cute laugh though.”

After lunch shenanigans, you were lost in thought once more. How could you bring up such an issue, like toileting and showering they were not only celebrities but they were boys.

"What do I do about your toilet and shower habits, I don't mean to be weird.” You blushed, “it's just, I don't want you getting hurt falling into the toilet or basin or anything"

They blushed "Oh, we will figure it out. Please do not worry."

"I might be able to make something" you hummed and began brainstorming. “Can you hold on for a little while while I make you some toileting facilities?”

“Actually I have to pee?” Hoseok blushed, you wondered how you would go about this, when they all nervously admitted they needed to go as well.

“We can just go outside we are boys” Namjoon assured you, scooping them up, you carried them outside. Turning around to giving them privacy in the grass. You were humiliated for them but what else could you do?

“I am so sorry, I will make something work”

“Please do not stress we are boys and human just like anyone else”

“Except now really tiny” They looked at each other and you bit your lip snorting, “Sorry I have been holding it in but, you are all so cute, anyone this small would be”

They seemed to relax watching you slowly grow comfortable enough to talk more freely. Giving them your iPad you sat them on your bed with a plate of the few leftover snacks from your pantry. They were quick to open Netflix and argue over movies.

“Watch this one.” You selected one at random “Not only does me choosing the show stop you arguing, but I also want to watch it, so you have to report to me if it is any good. I will be back as quick as I can be, please don't get hurt”

Racing to the mall you went into a multitude of shops. The first was the most important a toy shop, where you bought a dollhouse one that had working lights. At the craft warehouse, you bought a bunch of fabric, foam, and elastic. From the town’s hardware store you purchased a large length of thin black hose, silicone, thin metal, and some thin balsa wood. After that you quickly walked the grocery store, before you driving home exhausted but excited.

You had never been so creative in your life but there were so many videos and tutorials only, especially for mini cooking so when you got home, you immediately got to work. You began by modifying the dollhouse bathroom adding tiny black hoses as piping. You added little pipes to a few water bottles you had outside of the house the bottles would act as little water tanks.

Once the bathroom was done you began on making their beds taking the simple bed frames and painted them. You got up stretching your back, neck, and shoulders before heading out to make a small amount of dinner which was some cheap ramen. Making sure to test the dollhouse lights, it was a success but the rooms were so old fashioned.

The cupboards attached to the walls had working drawers and each had a few clothes hangers inside. You removed all the dolls and moveable furniture and began making mattresses out of foam and covering them in some fabric. You were so thankful for the sewing machine you had inherited from your grandmother and the few pillowcases you had made in home economics back in school.

In no time you had made enough beds for the seven and with the leftover foam two long couches. You used the extra fabric to make curtains and yawned checking the time. It was midnight and the boys were asleep on your bed. You pressed on, you needed this to be complete for them, they were real adult people despite their size and wouldn’t enjoy being treated like babies.

You took the time following a tutorial and eventually made a working stove that worked with a tea light candle you had fished out from your emergency kit. Looking over the house you knew you couldn’t get everything done before morning so you decided to make everything look pretty.

You took different paints and painted the rooms soft colors, made the beds, and with a few popsicle sticks and string you made them tiny pictures for above their beds. Happy, that they came with clothes so they would have enough to wear without you making more things. You weren’t ready to make clothes that small.

Setting the dollhouse securely on your large computer desk, it was three am and you were covered in wood chips, paint, and glue. Deciding it was best if you had a shower before bed. Taking a hot shower to work the aches and pains from your neck, you could have almost fallen asleep under the all-encompassing stream of hot water.

How can I save this to receive and read updates?

‘Follow’ and turn on ‘Notifications’ so you never miss an update

Add your name to a ‘Tag’ list [HERE]

‘Reblog’ this post with the hashtag #BTSLE (Limited Edition)

Or you can ‘Like’ this post (but good luck trying to find it a week later, we both know how many things you like a day, perhaps we will meet again in the future.)

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radioactivepeasant · 5 years

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Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(This started out as something I sent to my sister once as a joke, so it's most definitely not meant to be taken seriously. Like, at all.)

It wasn't that people hadn't wondered about All Might's origin story. There had been questions since almost his second Sports Festival. One of the more humorous theories involved him being related to members of the Kal-el Agency. (All Might suspected that might've been one of the very few pieces of All Might trivia his successor didn't already know.)

It was just that nobody had any real sources to ask about the theories, since All Might himself was so tight-lipped about it.

At least, there hadn't been any real sources until now.

People had seen Gran Torino in battle at Kamino. For the heroes present, it had been clear that Gran Torino and All Might had known each other for quite some time. In fact, the semi-retired hero was going around casually calling All Might by his given name in public! That was definitely a level of familiarity that none of them had achieved. And then there was All Might, who acted nervous and awkward half the time around Torino, but reacted with something like sheer indignation if the older hero said anything even slightly self-deprecating.

When Gran Torino turned up at UA one weekend there had been worries of an emergency, but it turned out he was just there for a semi-annual meeting to have tea with Recovery Girl while they griped about "the old days". (Like when the school used to pay for a full medical staff, before the budget went to giant killer robots and Recovery Girl became a makeshift one-woman hospital.) On his way to the infirmary, he found himself being followed by a few of the younger teachers. After ignoring them for a few seconds, he finally confronted them.

"You kids don't have somewhere to be?" he asked pointedly.

Midnight playfully shoved Present Mic forward. "It was your idea, you ask," she smirked.

"Ask what?" Gran Torino began to look suspicious.

For someone who displayed as much confidence as he usually did, Present Mic looked distinctly nervous. Sure, Gran Torino looked harmless, here in the school. But if All Might walked on eggshells around him, he had to be scarier than he looked!

"Er, Gran Torino!" Present Mic's grin only twitched a little bit. "At the risk of sounding like the paparazzi -- heaven forbid -- we were wondering if you could answer a question about All Might."

Gran Torino's eyes narrowed, and the harmless facade faded slightly. Thirteen, Midnight, Vlad King and Present Mic felt a chill roll down their spines at the man's shrewd stare. Maybe this was why All Might treaded carefully around him!

"Shouldn't you ask him yourself, instead of coming to me?"

This time, Midnight answered. "Well we did, actually, but he says he doesn't remember."

"Remember what?" Gran Torino asked, already preparing his "forgetful old man" act, just in case.

"Where he came from, where he was born," Midnight said with a shrug. "You know, his origin. Nobody can even make a proper biography of him post retirement because he never tells anyone anything about his past!"

"Yeah, like, did a couple farmers find him in a rocketship as a baby?" Present Mic joked, "Is he secretly a character from a folktale? Did he accidentally demolish his own house as a child with that quirk? Who knows? Definitely not us!"

Unexpectedly, Gran Torino let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, that? Pshaw, nothing nearly so complicated. I just left a mop outside to dry one night, and it got struck by lightning. The next morning, there was this beanpole kid on the doorstep with soap in his hair."

There was about three seconds of dead silence as the teachers all gaped at him, trying to work out whether or not he was serious. Then, just when it seemed that they were about to ask more questions, Gran Torino tilted his head to one side and smiled benignly.

"...Who are you?"

Their confusion was a sight to behold. When Sorahiko slipped away from them and into the infirmary, the look on Recovery Girl's face clearly said she'd been listening in.

"You are incorrigible!" Chiyo huffed, shaking her head. "And to think I used to wonder where Toshinori got his tendency to deflect questions with weird humor!"

Sorahiko looked almost offended by the suggestion.

"I stole that from him, thank you very much!" he grumbled. "It's not even the strangest origin story I've used to get people off my back."

"Didn't you tell Nedzu once that you built Toshinori out of cornstalks and accidentally brought him to life by mispronouncing an IKEA instruction pamphlet?"

Sorahiko snickered, remembering Nedzu -- a fellow teacher at the time -- staring blankly at him, lost for words. "Alright, I'm a little proud of that one."

#free day thursday #fic prompts #writing prompts #bnha #my hero academia #gran torino #sorahiko #a running joke i have with my sister that people around all might make up fake backstories to distract reporters #one variation is 'he got his quirk because one of his parents was bitten by a radioactive american bald eagle'#or 'i don't know. he popped out of a hole in the pantry floor one day and he's been here ever since'#toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #does this count as a crackfic? it might #humor #parody

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bakudekuficlibrary · 5 years

Text

BakuDeku: No Quirks AU Part III

Click here for Part I, Part II, and Part IV!

6 Series. 72 Works.

Through Your Eyes by KingHugin ( G | 4,137 | 1/1 )

Maybe this Android thing wasn't so bad after all, and maybe his change of views had nothing to do with a certain Android who had more humanity then most humans.

A little Android one shot because i played Detroit: become human way to much.

The World Is Unkind To Those Who Love by grxundzerx ( Not Rated | 1,215+ | 2/? )

Izuku and Katsuki live in a time where homosexuality is highly illegal. This leads to the pair hiding their love from everyone and thing, resulting in Katsuki to "hate" his lover and to be an easily angered boy, and Izuku to be a shy and an easily flustered boy. Yet behind closed doors, the tables turn, and and the couple are like completely new people.

[Homophobia]

[Series] Kasumi vs the world by kewltie ( G | 12,048+ | 2 Works | WIP )

love scenario by sundaechii ( T | 6,054 | 1/1 )

Some nights, they both speak only sparingly. They would share an earbud as they listen in to Broccoli’s Spotify playlists. In those nights, Broccoli would scribble down on his notepad and Katsuki would either scroll on his phone with his secret, private social media accounts or watch Broccoli work with his brows furrowed in concentration.

Weeks go on like this for them and every night, Katsuki tries his damn best not to fall.

In which Izuku is a street performer that Katsuki, an idol in training, is completely enamored with.

A Place by KatieKat527 ( T | 3,170+ | 2/? )

“You, Katsuki Bakugou, are dead.”

Then things got weird.

[Series] Inseparable by Eggs_in_a_cloud ( G/T | 8,208+ | 2 Works | WIP )

Falling by Dokuine ( G | 2,016 | 1/1 )

Midoriya Izuku did not have much experience or luck when it came to love, but he never expected it to literally knock him onto his rear one day. Not that he recognized it for what it was, not in that first meeting.

Forget Me Not by SummerCinnamonRolls ( M | 6,930+ | 3/? )

Izuku was kidnapped at the age of fifteen. Five years pass and he is now twenty years old in a world he doesn't recognize or fit into. Enter Katsuki Bakugo. He will make sure that his childhood friend has a place to belong. He will give him a world where it is okay to say "no" again.

[Rape/Non-Con | Past Abuse | Self Harm]

All Was Golden When the Day Met the Night by oyasumi_yue ( T | 3,895+ | 1/2 )

Katsuki Bakugou loathes their Collegiate Theatre Club on a spiritual level. On the flip side, he would be very much willing to audition for the Musical character lead if it's for his best friend whom he loves so dearly.

Or: i-would-portray-that-main-character-on-your-stupid-play-just-for-you-to-notice-me

It's Dangerous To Say Something Like That To Me by karmaticinstitution ( E | 3,001 | 1/1 )

Bakugou Katsuki is not one for parties, social gatherings, events, or otherwise, but he sure can be conned into going to them and he can leave them satisfied with his decisions. Based loosely off of this post from bathtubaccidents on tumblr.

The Reviews

"Do people not talk during sex?" - My Friend, to which I say, 'Not if you're doing it right.'

"Can you stop sleeping with people and calling it 'research'?" - My Roommate, to which I say, 'no'

Love is like Heaven but it Hurts like Hell by SecretKiwi ( M | 2,065 | 1/1 )

Katsuki is trying to hit on the cute hipster boy, but Izuku is just trying not to go to the hospital again.

Making Due by Daiako (Achrya) ( T | 6,250+ | 4/? )

If anyone asked Izuku what he thought of 'Omega Cafes', where omegas dressed up and paraded around catering to lonely alphas and betas, he would have said they were degrading and indecent and humiliating.

And who would know better than him, who secretly works at MidNight Cafe? Well, secretly until former friend Bakugou Katsuki walks in and catches him there. Now all Izuku can do is brace himself and wait to be mocked and exposed...right?

What We Learn Along The Way by Wanderer5 ( M | 29,576+ | 10/? )

Third grade teacher Izuku Midoriya has his hands full this year but the person they bring in to help is...distractingly handsome.

Cinnamon Spice by Sonday ( E | 12,873+ | 3/? )

A cozy story about a sweet coffee shop bartender and a smoldering customer. -- Ch 3

Katsuki blushed. His voice was a little rough when he spoke. “Do you like the wine?”

“I do…” Izuku murmured. “It’s sweet.”

“I like sweet things,” Katsuki confessed moving a little closer, his soft cologne luring Izuku in, those red eyes smoldering as they trailed down his body. Heat pooled in Izuku’s blood, his pulse thumping in his throat, and he was suddenly very, very aware that this game was over before it even started.

They Cry Discord And Salvation by MelodyCircus ( T | 10,968+ | 2/? )

The world below knows strife. Wrought to ruin at the hands of demons and sealed by the God who brings about punishment to their sins. They fight for their survival, employing the power of demons to destroy them. A post-apocalyptic Tokyo, of which its denizens know nothing else. The world above is like any other kingdom, a peace kept through hierarchy and disturbed by the snakes that lie in the underworld. As both worlds begin to interact against the divine that forbid it, secrets of their worlds unravel. It becomes a fight for survival, a fight for a new world, and a fight for humanity. The path son of man chooses is of his own.

A Demon-Apocalypse AU based around the Shin Megami Tensei IV & IV-Apocalypse games.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Throttled by prettyreklessa7x ( E | 16,081+ | 6/? )

Ground Zero is the top motorcyclist in his district, claiming victory in every street race he enters with practiced ease... until a new rider rolls into town, threatening his #1 spot in their very first race together. When the finish flags drop, Katsuki Bakugou is determined to see what *nobody* almost beat him. Unfortunately, he’s faced with a pair of electrifying emeralds that have plagued his dreams for the last 11 years.

Inked Heart by Ludwhick ( M | 14,075+ | 6/7 )

Midoriya Izuku, a college English teacher, goes out drinking with his friends one Friday. After one too many shots, they all decide to get tattoos. Izuku ends up falling inlove with a certain tattoo artist.

Together, Alone by pandorasboxofsecrets ( M | 2,246+ | 1/? )

It wasn't fair that in their new society, their new order of life, Izuku Midoriya, couldn't love who he wanted to love without fearing for his life.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Finally I Have You Again by onebreathyboi ( Not Rated | 4,219 | 1/1 )

Katsuki was taken away because he was dangerous. Izuku is broken by it.

They meet again. Emotions ensue.

Series Part 1 of God Couldn't Keep Us Away

Service With A Smile by asmalltigercat ( T | 8,609 | 2/2 )

Izuku liked working in an ice cream shop, but there wasn't really anything exciting about the job—until his estranged childhood friend showed up one day.

Symbiote by shingekino_neon ( E | 4,845 | 1/1 )

In which Deku arrives home not exactly himself, and Bakugou's just along for the ride.

The Pocky Game by rekamohcs ( M | 4,981 | 1/1 )

As if Izuku didn’t have enough trouble keeping his intruding feelings for his unfairly attractive best friend at bay, Ochako had to go and teach him about the Pocky Game. Now here he was, his lips wrapped around one end of a chocolate stick, while Katsuki’s wrapped around the other, faces mere inches apart.

And they were both too stubborn to back down.

Izuku had a feeling he knew where this was headed.

(He made a mental note to remember to thank Ochako later.)

If We Lie Here by NightshadeDawn ( G | 2,263 | 7/7 )

Short stories and poems for bakudeku positivity week!

The boy who smelled of Roses by EngelDreamer ( G | 1,233 | 1/1 )

La prima cosa a colpirlo non fu tanto il suo aspetto, ma l'intenso profumo di Rose che sembrava permeare ogni indumento, ogni lembo di pelle, di lui e che lo travolse come un'ondata d'aria fresca, insinuandosi nelle sue narici ed imprimendosi in ogni parte del suo corpo. La seconda furono gli enormi occhi verdi che, un po' dispiaciuti ed un po' intimoriti, si andarono a posare dentro i suoi. •Bakudekupositivityweek 2k18 ❀ Day 2 ❀ Prompt: Flowers

Series Part 2 of Bakudeku positivity week 2k18

Do You Want to Be a Hero? by SecretKiwi ( T | 1,817 | 1/1 )

Two teenage boys learn the hard way that being a hero isn't always as fun as it looks.

Short one-shot, No quirk Vigilante AU

Kunwari (Make-believe) by KiKingofSpades ( T | 1,719 | 1/1 )

Izuku was unexpectedly enjoying his commute to work.

Series Part 5 of Boku no Hero Academia Lyric Prompts

Icebreaker by EtherealBeing ( E | 9,916+ | 2/? )

Izuku tried his best to stay positive, and remind himself that his predicament was nothing to be ashamed of — that doctors dealt with this sort of thing all the time. Needless to say, he gave up on trying to maintain that optimism the moment his childhood friend walked in, white coat, stethoscope and all.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe this!” Katsuki managed to wheeze, in between raucous, choking bouts of laughter. “You— You got a dildo stuck up your ass?!”

Or: After several years of no contact, Izuku and Katsuki are reunited at the ER when the former gets a dildo stuck in his ass, and the latter is the doctor tasked with removing it.

Good Luck, Kacchan! by sparkyyy ( G | 1,704 | 1/1 )

Izuku accompanies Bakugou to help him move into his new college dorm. Cute shenanigans ensue.

1327 by don_donaQ ( E | 64,481 | 20/20 )

N/A

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

2305 by don_donaQ ( E | 3,276 | 1/1 )

这里是无人之境。没有人会来打扰他们。在万里星空下，只有他们。交缠在一起。

desiderata by sora_san89 ( M | 2,655 | 1/1 )

Let them affirm their humanity, their existences, at least only for this night.

(BakuDeku Positivity Week 2018 - Day 04: rise / havoc)

Series Part 4 of BakuDeku Positivity Week 2018 ^^

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

[On Hiatus] HypoThalamus [Hiatus and Being Rewritten] by ToxicPooPoo ( Not Rated | 41,131+ | 7/? )

Coming across old friends wouldn't cause you to discover more about the global mass murderers, an unusual dreaming ability, and the problem of seeing too much, yet Izuku Midoriya found himself in these conditions. The boy is driven by his concealed passion to rescue the innocent despite how illegal it is. With four hours of sleep every night and a hidden power that no one has acknowledged, he manages to complete vigilante duties at midnight. Izuku soon realizes that secrets aren't permanent, tragedies are the future's best friend, and that you should never ever play with fire.

I wouldn't recommend reading this story since I'm rewriting it, building on it and on more important things that I couldn't add at the moment. I feel like it's too rushed since I definitely did rush when I officially began writing. I also feel like I wasn't able to incorporate bigger meanings and ideas that would make this story better. Currently, I am motivated to make this story a lot more built on and understandable. Some parts just felt unneeded. Once I finish planning another fic, I might come back to this or I might finish the other and then come back. Thanks :)

[Series] Tickets Straight To Hell by Tokiji ( E | 30,378+ | 2 Works | WIP )

It All Started With Beer & Pizza by x_tincan_x ( E | 31,406+ | 13/? )

Half an hour after Kirishima had left, there was a knock on the door. Katsuki had a beer in his hand and walked over to the door. Mumbling under his breath, “fucking shitty hair forgot his fucking keys again..” to himself.

Katsuki opened the door, he looked from the dripping wet Kirishima to the equally soaked male he had gone to pick up. When he saw the familiar tangle of green hair and freckles, he choked on his drink. “The fuck…?” he half whispered.

~~~~

Or, the one where Izuku has a past that he finds hard to talk about. Can he build himself back up with the help of his new friends, and re-kindle a relationship with his childhood friend?

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Past Rape/Non-Con | Panic Attacks | PTSD | Abuse]

Chance Encounter by Eggs_in_a_cloud ( T | 6,518+ | 3/? )

The first thing Izuku thinks of when he sees Bakugou for the first time is that he is a storm. Uncontrolled and raging, strong and bold. Unapologetic and surging. Swirling all at once and creating chaos. Izuku has never been so captivated.

High school student Izuku Midoriya decides to take a shortcut on his way to school, and he meets a blond boy that changes the course of his life forever.

Painting Flowers by Arysa ( T | 49,912+ | 12/? )

Where Bakugo Katsuki works at his parents' flower shop and Midoriya Izuku is a hot regular that simply comes to sketch flowers all day long.

[Series] Angels & Demons by zuccin ( G | 6,957+ | 3 Works | WIP )

Uprising Imminent (Katsudeku) by Death_by_Crayola ( T | 3,036+ | 2/? )

The world Izuku Midoriya lives in is routine, quiet, and isolated. He lives by harsh rules, harsher punishments, and the fact that he didn't have much else to do. The path he was set on was the way it was because that was what he is supposed to do. Nothing else appeals. That is, until he sees infamous delinquent Katsuki Bakugou in person, uprooting a strange curiosity that drags him down an entirely different path.

Midoriya ends up joining the group, what he used to call a gang, and learns not only how to be an individual, but to know what it feels like to truly want more. And, the person at the head of these personal discoveries - the violent, withdrawn, and heart-stopping Katsuki.

Thrills Don't Come For Free by karmaticinstitution ( E | 6,880 | 1/1 )

Bakugou goes to a new school, makes a kickass friend, they do a lot of dumb things, including maybe falling in love.

The Reviews

"Really? You picked that song?" yes

"Did you actually fall in love?" (no comment)

"That's some funky poetic shit" -Bunsie

October 2018's Writing Prompts by LucyDarkhive ( Not Rated | 1,171 | 1/1 )

Bakugou Katsuki didn’t believe in myths. Most were lies based on what someone thought they saw anyway. He didn’t believe, so why was he witnessing one of those myths right before his eyes?

Where the Road Leads by bkdkwritingsdump ( T | 6,627 | 5/5 )

Izuku is called to chase something by the inhuman blood in veins - he needs to - he has to - and there's no stopping it. So, like any good, supportive boyfriend would, Katsuki goes along to make sure he doesn't get himself killed in the process of unraveling the secrets of his lineage.

[Series] Toy With Me by zuccin ( E | 6,674+ | 2 Works | WIP )

Where I Belong by Nafarik ( M | 50,510 | 13/13 )

Izuku a toujours rêvé d'être danseur. Bercé par les représentations de son idole, son rêve à pourtant pris un détour. Du moins, jusqu'à ce que son ami d'enfance ne resurgisse dans sa vie et le remette sur le droit chemin, sans même en avoir conscience.

Tie Me Up! Please? by sterekhalinsk ( E | 7,526+ | 1/1 )

While browsing through wank-off material, Izuku discovers that he may or may not have a thing for bondage. Resigning to buy some rope and forever closet his new fixation, he wanders into a hardware store late at night. It's there that he encounters a very grumpy, but very attractive blond whose more than willing to test out his new kink.

(Kinktober Day 9 - Bondage)

drive-by by infernalangels ( E | 12,661+ | 4/? )

He should’ve never let Uraraka drag him here. The whole place reeked of beer and gasoline, drunken laughter breaking out from the group of boys he and his best friend approached. Izuku honestly didn’t know why he’d come. Signing, he began to follow Mina, silently praying he wouldn’t regret this.

Oh, he had no idea.

or: Katsuki Bakugou is everything Izuku Midoriya despises: a tattooed covered badass who takes no shit from anyone. He's arrogant, rude, addicting... Maybe that's why Izuku can't stay away.

[Homophobia]

A Champion's Memento by girlygrl25 ( M | 22,758+ | 6/? )

In a world where pokemon replace quirks, Izuku has grown up idolizing Fighting type Champion All Might. Despite his dreams, however, Izuku has always failed when confronted with a prospective Fighting type pokemon for himself. As the entrance exam for UA, the premier Trainer school in Kalos, approaches, he decides that maybe it’s time to try something different, with a little help from an unlikely source. Something that fits better with him than Fighting types...despite his deceptively weak appearance.

Room 1217 by ImpossibilityGirl ( T | 56,533+ | 9/? )

When Izuku found his room again, he could hear music behind the door- loud, with lots of screaming and guitars. His heart sunk a little, but he tried not to pass judgement too quickly. The guy inside was alone right now, after all. He’d probably use headphones once he met his new roommate, right? Izuku took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob, pushing it open as casually as he could to hide his nerves. He thought about the greeting he'd rehearsed in the mirror earlier today.

“Hey! I didn’t see you here earlier! It's nice to meet you, I’m--” Izuku froze in the doorway, the other man in the room mirroring him. He was holding up a sweater, clearly in the middle of putting it on a hanger when Izuku had barged in. Izuku had been preparing for a lot of possibilities behind the door, but this was not on his list.

Blond, spiky hair, and eyes like fire with a temperament to match. Katsuki Bakugou, undoubtedly.

Pocky Sticks and Sunsets by o_r_i_g_a_m_i ( T | 2,710+ | 2/? )

Izuku Midoriya is an exceptional college student at the local Culinary Arts Academy. He has a decent paying job at a candy store, but he can’t help to not help his mother with her bill issues, which lead him to where he is. Izuku is behind on bills, so he has no other choice but to post a Roommate Needed blog. Little did he know, he would soon reunite with someone he hasn’t seen since his middle school days...

(Thank you for picking this read! It’s going to be a little simple, but I’m going to keep a schedule for updating chapters. I want to say thank you to my beta for dealing with my constant mistakes ^^’ Please make sure to leave kudos and comments! I love reading them.)

入宿指南 by don_donaQ ( E | 3,001 | 1/1 )

「请多指教。」爆豪胜己说，「绿谷……学长，可以和我交往吗？」

Falling for You by xpira ( G | 1,235+ | 2/? )

"Kacchan, I love you."

"Yeah."

Brick by Brick by skellingfish ( T | 2,618+ | 2/? )

Sometime around elementary school, Kacchan had put up a wall between himself and Izuku. Now they're living together, Izuku's determined to tear down that wall, brick by brick.

WALANG POREBER MGA ULOL by sundaechii ( Not Rated | 1,203+ | 1/? )

“Punyeta, ano ba?! Bakit niyo ba ginagawan ng isyu? Di ko nga kilala yung tao eh!”

Bagong taon, bagong mga kaklase, bagong mga aralin, at... bagong crush?

The Kill by aoi_inu ( M | 1,373+ | 1/? )

What if I wanted to break? Laugh it all off in your face? What would you do? ___

Midoriya Izuku is no stranger to social alienation. Middle school was hell and he didn't expect high school to be any different.

[Underage | Implied/Referenced Suicide | Implied/Referenced Self Harm]

She's Mine by masteremeraldholder, purplecrystalgem ( T | 3,504+ | 1/4 )

Izuku takes her hand into her own warm, soft palm (Katsuki can’t bring herself to jerk her hand away this time) and says, “It’s okay… You can say it.”

So she does. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m not enough. Like I’m never goin’ to be enough. It feels like it’s all for nothin’.”

It’s quiet other than the gentle hum of the air conditioning. Soothing.

Then Deku’s shifting onto her knees, and her hands come to Katsuki’s face.

“You’ll always be enough for me,” Izuku cups her face. She’s letting Shitty-damn-Deku touch her. “You’re more than enough.”

[Or Katsuki's attacked for making it onto the varsity basketball team.]

[Transphobia | Implied/Referenced Self Harm]

You're My Tear by herosuneater ( T | 2,707+ | 1/? )

╚»★«╝ ᴘᴏᴋéᴍᴏɴ ᴀᴜ ╚»★«╝ ═══════ Being pressured to be in charge of an important job can really break someone terribly. Luckily for Izuku, he has someone he could cope with, and he has his mother who he could always depend on as well.

"Will you always be there to prevent me from doing anything stupid?"

"I've been doing that my whole life, this is no different."

Series Part 1 of BNHA AUs

Album Title in Progress by Allotrope ( E | 50,167+ | 9/20 )

"Are you trying to be funny? Because you need to work on the punchline." Katsuki scoffed in disbelief, eyes narrowing in on the grown man trying and failing to get a pen clip out his forest of curls. "You really don't think you can sing?"

"I mean, technically, sure. Anyone able to sing can sing. But am I good at it?" Deku left the pen alone so he could gesture as though he was weighing two different invisible objects. "...Yeah, I'm okay."

Now that got a chuckle out of Katsuki.

"I wouldn't call that just 'okay'." -- OR; Izuku's singing makes Katsuki realize sex is Real™ and uses those feelings to make a bomb-ass(lol get it? cuz his quirk is...) album while also helping a self-doubting Izuku realize how fire his mixtape is.

or so they say by Ciaru ( T | 2,726+ | 2/? )

Izuku is a nerd, Katsuki is hot, what else is new

(this is) home by Kasplode ( T | 2,900+ | 2/? )

often i am upset that i cannot fall in love but i guess this avoids the stress of falling out of it

izuku is a boy. not that anyone knows that. (not yet.)

[Transphobia | Implied/Referenced Self Harm]

Soft Wings by actualdevil ( T | 1,533 | 1/1 )

As someone already prone to accidents, it was no surprise when Deku took a bad fall during track practice. (Or, a quirkless AU where everyone has wings for no reason)

EVP Sessions by autochorystalize ( T | 9,682 | 2/2 )

Izuku had been interested in the paranormal for years now, spending many weekends exploring haunted locations and trying to document proof of spirits. Tonight was the start of his next big project: creating a documentary series about paranormal investigation. Katsuki thought Izuku was full of shit, but he always showed up anyway

another day, another misadventure by dekustyle ( T | 3,155 | 1/1 )

Katsuki’s date with Izuku is ruined when Todoroki Enji arrived at Izuku’s doorstep without prior notice. Now, Katsuki’s stuck babysitting a problematic five year old child with a weirdass hair color as his boyfriend cooks food for them…miserably.

Series Part 1 of (mis)adventures of little shouto with bakudeku

Burn the Witch by sundaechii ( T | 2,233 | 1/1 )

A week after the start of summer break, the Bakugou’s got a new neighbor.

Affection Brewing by KinkyKaitsu ( M | 1,758+ | 1/? )

Katsuki Bakugou works part-time at the local coffee house, Insomnia Café. He hates every second of it. The customers exhaust him, hours piss him off, but the money is good and after a chance encounter with a green-eyed stranger he decides going in to work might not be so bad.

[Series] Hybrids x My Hero Academia by GreyLiliy ( M | 21,654 | 2 Works | WIP )

Vemödalen by shrill_linguini ( T | 2,382+ | 1/? )

Katsuki Bakugou found such frustration in photography, especially when photographing something amazing; as thousands of identical photos already exist- and his didn't even compare.

He had nothing to say anymore.

He thought all of the stories had been told.

All but one.

it's magic (if it's with you) by MsFluorescent ( M | 29,088+ | 9/? )

high school is... quidditch, love potions, and a little too much butterbeer.

Riley’s Ficlets: Bakugou/Midoriya by AutisticWriter ( T | 1,500+ | 3/4 )

A collection of 500 word ficlets.

Series Part 1 of Riley's Ficlet Collections Part 64 of Aspec Characters Part 43 of Neurodivergent BNHA Characters Part 249 of Autistic Headcanons Part 521 of Tumblr Prompt Fills

[Homophobia]

Our Treehouse by Flavorful_Evening ( T | 19,164+ | 3/? )

Katsuki's forced to adjust to his new life in an ordinary, small town. But he's 13, with no friends, and is a stubborn loner who spends most of his time alone in the woods.

Yeah, it's as depressing as it sounds.

But just when he thought he could get through all problems by trudging past or blatantly ignoring them, some kid with a mop of green hair forces his way into his life. So...how much worse can his life get?

Izuku Midoriya sees the lonely lifestyle of a new Junior High student and can't help but want to butt in rather than watch from the sidelines. Throw away words and inconsistency won't work with this kid, he has to be there all the way.

And it looks like Katsuki isn't going to accept it without kicking and screaming the whole way.

[Underage | Bullying]

Finding Balance in a Typhoon by ameliescoup ( Not Rated | 1,563 | 1/1 )

Newly promoted research diver, Midoriya Izuku, gets the assignment that he's always wanted, a deep sea expedition to complete his research on whale sharks. Getting his dossier, and setting sail on this unknown named ship, excited for what's in store for him, he's suddenly thwarted when he realized who his captain is...his old flame, Bakugou Katsuki.

62 notes · View notes

ythmir-writes · 5 years

Text

fandom: Midnight Cinderella character: Nico Meier

warnings for slight spoilers, and pain; occurs in Nico’s route after his return to Wysteria from Stein

originally posted on main original timestamp: 26 January 2016

You Can’t Come Back

“Princess?”

(Y/N) snapped out of her reverie as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She quickly turned around and met Leo’s frowning face. “Yes?”

“That was the third time I called out to you.” Leo peered at her through his glasses.

Giles was behind Leo, looking just as worried as the older Crawford twin. It took a moment before (y/n) realized where she was and what she was doing.

Wysteria. Briefing. Plans to disperse the opposition to the princess system.

She had documents in her hand but couldn’t quite remember how she had gotten them. Leo must have handed it to her. Or had it been Giles?

She looked at Leo again - had they been discussing something? Was it her turn to speak? “I…” she hesitated, gripping the documents tighter, feeling the paper crumple slightly in her hand. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

The question didn’t quite register itself inside her head. Or maybe it was that it did and that would explain why her heart ached and sank. Was she all right? She wasn’t sure. She wasn’t quite sure of anything at the moment. But she had slept a dreamless sleep hadn’t she? And she had a hearty breakfast earlier. Besides, it had already been two days since her return from Stein, so why was she…?

“I’m okay.”

Even she didn’t believe the sound of her voice.

“I’m just…”

She bit her lip, trying her best to steady herself and not let the fact that Nico…

That Nico was not…

The tears pricked at her eyes and she quickly tried to wipe them away as subtley as she could. It was no good to cry, no; no good to bawl out and be emotional about something that even she was powerless to change.

“Princess,” Leo said gently, glancing at Giles who nodded his head, “If you need to take a moment, Giles and I will -”

“No.” Her voice was firmer this time. To continue letting things get out of hand was irresponsible. She’d been coddled enough, and almost always allowed someone else to take care of things for her. And the last time she allowed that… things hadn’t exactly ended the way she wanted.

She took a deep breath, composing herself, steeling every fiber of her being before looking at them both. “Let’s continue discussing the plans.” She looked at the documents in her hands.

She needed to concentrate.

She needed to be productive.

She needed to be strong.

That was why she had agreed to move herself outside of palace, she reminded herself. Opposition from the rebel citizens would best be dealt with if their movements were far from prying eyes and earnest ears. Too many nobles and beaurucrats had taken advantage of her little stint in Stein to try and grab the throne. Included in those efforts were attempts at trying to recruit as much of the palace staff as possible to serve as spies. Some have been dealt with but Giles wanted to be certain.

Focus.

He and Leo - even Duke Howard for that matter - had done what they could to keep the princess system intact. Her sudden reappearance had caused most of the dissidents to recant and pledge allegiance to the princess elect but there were still enough of the rebel group to try and stage something radical. A coup. An uprising. Heaven forbid, even civil war. There was no telling what could and could not happen.

Focus.

Protea had interpreted her disappearance as an act of allegiance with Stein, and was preparing for the worst. Laurelia had acted neutral for more than three decades but rumors of spearmen marching into the city using the cover of night, and the all to real fact that it was repairing and strengthening its walls, were the kind of rumors that shouldn’t be taken lightly.

Too many openings and too many avenues for mistakes. They needed to act swiftly to stamp any and all opposition out. Or at the very least, render them ineffective.

She needed to focus on that now.

“Most of the kitchen staff has been checked and double checked.” Giles said. “Additional measures were implemented to make sure that no one could infilrate us in that way again.”

“That’s a relief.” (Y/n) flipped through the papers as fast as she could. “Oh! The checkpoints we placed are proving to be an effective deterrent.”

“Yup. No more surprise armsdealing. Some nobles had a fit about that though.” Leo chuckled.

“We will have to thank Duke Howard.” (Y/n) said.

More discussions. More plans. Most of it was coming from Leo and Giles, who had more experience in the matters than her. Despite that, (y/n) felt hopeful as the hours passed by. Hopeful, yes. But mostly relieved, finally able to focus her thoughts more on productive matters, and less on self-pitying thoughts about how Nico…

No. Not again.

Not anymore.

Letters came in: declarations of loyalty, invitations and offers of help, some were wellwishers, from families who were glad that the princess was safe within the country again. At teatime, more documents were carried by the knights into the study. (Y/n) began going through them immediately.

“Page twelve has the locations of the remaining meeting places we haven’t been able to shut down.” She said. “Most have been taken care of… in two days?” (Y/N) scanned the page quickly before looking behind her where a map of Wysteria had been pinned to the wall. Red tacks had been used to mark possible buildings used as fronts to support the dissidents. And there were a lot. “That’s amazing! I didn’t know we had enough knights to be able to cover the provinces fast enough -”

“It wasn’t just my knights.” Alyn entered the room, face scowling as Leo greeted him with a wave. He stood next to (y/n), putting her between him and his twin. He then looked at Giles, focusing his gaze so he didn’t so much as have Leo in his line of sight. “You were right, Giles.”

“I try not to let that get to me too much.” Was the royal adviser’s reply. Part of (y/n) expected Giles to be smiling but his lips were getting thinner by the second.

“I don’t understand.” (Y/n) said. “This is supposed to be good news, right?”

“If we knew who was helping us.” Alyn replied. “But we don’t.”

“What?”

“Which could mean two things. It may mean that they’re actually helping us. Or they’re not and they’re busy pushing their own agenda.” Leo added.

(Y/n)’s gaze shifted from Leo to Alyn. “If this group is taking out our enemies, shouldn’t we be at the very least relieved? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?”

“It isn’t a group.” Alyn’s voice was low and (y/n) stared at him. “We have an idea but I don’t trust that information broker one fucking bit.”

Giles sighed loudly, putting down his cup. “Sid has never been wrong either.”

(Y/n) slowly turned her head to look at Giles, hoping that the rush of emotions she was feeling was anything else except dread.“You all know something I don’t, don’t you?” She said in a quiet voice.

Nobody in the room said anything.

(Y/n) placed the documents in her hands unto the table as casually as she could, schooling her features carefully into an emotionless mask. One step. Two. Four. Then she stopped and looked at the three men who had all stood up and were watching her. It was only Leo who had a sympathetic look on his face.

For a moment, she almost didn’t want to continue but if there was anything she learned from Stein, and from the current political situation she was trying to extract herself from, it was that she was the one wearing the crown. She had responsibilities. She had duties. Yes, she could never hide nor unburden herself of that. But there was something else she had, that for too long she had refused to utilize.

Not anymore.

“Giles Christophe. I am your princess, am I not?”

“(Y/N) -”

“Am. I. Not?” She asked again, steel in her voice now. Steel that she was using to hide the tears she could feel were threatening to show again.

And she had damn nearly spent the whole day -

“Yes, your highness.“Giles said.

"I assume you decided to hide this information on your better judgment?”

“Yes.”

“And that this better judgment dictated upon your conscience to hide a small detail. A detail that could have been easily overlooked where it not for someone hinting at it?”

Giles’ eyes were narrowed at Alyn, who raised his hands in defeat. “Yes.”

“And that this detail would not have affected any of the plans that were already laid out.” It was (Y/n)’s turn to narrow her eyes at Giles. She paused for a moment, seeing the bigger picture. “As a matter of fact, you already took it into account.”

“Yes.”

“Giles is our dangerous wolf.” Leo piped.

“Dangerous indeed.” (Y/n) repeated, clasping her hands together to stop herself from shaking. But it wasn’t anger she was feeling.

Giles sighed loudly, crossing his arms. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he looked at (y/n), it was surprisingly gentle. “I had intended to reveal it at a later time, (y/n). It’s something better off your mind and i wasn’t - still not, to be honest - convinced it would be productive to discuss plans with a princess whose state of mind is clearly on something else.”

“Not your call.” (Y/n) shook her head.

“It was a bit presumptious, I know.” Giles answered.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“I was simply trying to protect -”

(Y/n) raised her hand to stop him from continuing. Her insides throbbed with a thousand emotions she couldn’t name, each turning and crashing with each other that she felt like she was going to burst. She balled her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms so much it hurt.

“Next time,” she finally said. “Be more forthcoming about these things.”

“Princess…” Leo started, hesitated, and then went on, “There’s no reason for you to push yourself like that.”

“There’s no need to coddle me. I can handle this much.”

“(Y/n) -”

“Please.” She insisted. “If you keep protecting me like this, how else will I move on?”

The three men looked at each other, and somehow without saying anything came to a consensus.

“Of course.” It was Giles who spoke.

“Thank you.” (Y/n) looked at them and was surprised to see them smiling. “What?”

“Nothing, really. Just that the little princess is all grown up now.” Alyn was smiling. He blew out breath, then added. “I can still remember how you used to scale palace walls.”

“Alyn!”

“Don’t forget the time she almost cried because she bumped into a Contessa on her first saloon.” Leo teased.

“I did not cry!”

“You were so innocent back then.” Giles’ tone was almost wistful. “To think that you would pull an authority card against none other than me.”

“I didn’t mean -”

“Stop with those excuses, you nitwit.” Alyn’s hand was on her head now. “I don’t know what happened between you and that little runt and frankly I don’t care. You’re here now. And we’re here for you, you got that?”

The tears that threatened to spill were no longer tears of sadness and she let out a small choked gasp as she fumbled for her handkerchief. As she wiped at her tears and listened to Leo teasing Alyn for making her cry, with Giles offering her his own handkerchief, her chest swelled with love and gratefulness for them.

This was what she had now.

This was her family now.

Despite the fact that the worst scenario could happen to Wysteria, (y/n) felt a little hopeful. There were better days to come.

Until two weeks into her stay in the mansion.

As an additional measure of protection, it had been decided that the Princess Elect should take up lessons in self defense. Alyn had been teaching her the basics and when he was away, some of the knights pitched in to help. She learned how to wield a sword and throw knives, how to deflect, and how to gauge an enemy’s skill by the way they held their weapons. She was no expert and quite frankly, had nearly zero talent and built in athleticism.

But she was observant. And she had sharp eyes. Or at least, that was what Alyn had added as a footnote when he listed her “knightly qualities”. Which had been next to nothing.

“Remember,” Alyn added. “What do you do when you see an intruder?”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. “Call for help.”

“Damn right. You think ten days of holding a sword makes you invincible?” He pointed at the pair of knights in the corner. “Alfred and Tobias are my best men. You go to them when I’m not here.”

And Alyn wasn’t here now.

She had been practicing parrying for half a day now with Alfred and Tobias. Alfred was commenting on the way she was using her wrist and was about to say something else when both he and Tobias jerked their heads towards the woods, tensing.

“Is everything all right?” She asked.

The two knights gave each other a look. And (y/n) recognized that look. It was the same look Alyn had when things weren’t all right.

“Yes.” Tobias coughed uncomfortably.

(Y/n) frowned, sheathing her sword. Tobias was a bad liar and he looked away in shame when she gave him a stern look.

“Princess, you should head back-”

“Oh no.” (Y/n) cut in. “We are going to go there and see what’s hiding -”

“With all due respect, your Highness.” Alfred continued. “Our instructions were to keep you safe.”

“I will be safe. I’m with you two.” And before either knight could object, (y/n) beelined towards woods, giving the two men no other choice but to follow her.

To be honest, (y/n) was hoping it was just an approaching messenger, or a random animal. It was just an hour past noon, and the sun was still high in the sky, but the dense foliage had an eerie feel to it. Alfred and Tobias both looked wary and uncomfortable and as they went farther and farther away from the mansion, (y/n) felt like they were being watched. And Tobias merely confirmed (y/n)’s gut when he motioned for them to stop.

“Princess,” Alfred said. “Needless to say, this is bad idea.” His jaw was tense and there were more lines between his brows that (y/n) could count.

“Let’s hurry back.” Tobias said.

(Y/n) hesitated. Somehow she felt like she needed to go further but couldn’t quite place a finger on why. Frowning, she looked at Alfred. “Are we expecting anyone today?”

Alfred shook his head. “Sir Alyn isn’t expected to return until tonight.”

One last look into the forest then (y/n) turned towards Alfred. “All right. Let’s go back. Tobias, let’s -”

“(Y/n), watch out!”

Before she could even react, someone pushed past her, shoving her away from where metal clanged loudly against metal.

“Princess!” Hands pulled her up unto her feet and away from the sound of grunting and fighting. It was Alfred. But then who was -

“Nico!”

There was no mistaking the lean frame and the messy tussle of carnation hair. And the short sword. Oh my god, (y/n) could recognize the short sword from a mile away.

“Don’t hurt him!” Was all (y/n) could scream. There was hesitation in Nico’s movements and what could have been a fatal wound was maneuvered into something less final and bloody. Nico jabbed the hilt of his sword into Tobias’ stomach, forcing the man to recoil before thrusting the same blunt end square unto the knight’s jaw.

“Why you little -” Alfred stepped forward, placing himself between (y/n) and Nico. He drew his own sword and Nico turned his attention to the blond knight, leaving the gasping Tobias behind him.

There was a flurry of movements faster than (y/n) could follow, faster than any training she had had. And for a moment, she could only stare in disbelief, realizing her utter incompetence.

Ten days doesn’t make me a knight.

A knight’s fight was not her fight. Alyn had made that clear.

But she had her own unique weapons, didn’t she?

“Nico, stop it!” (Y/n) shouted as loudly as she could. “Or so help me god, I will put you under arrest!”

That forced Nico to stop midswing before backing away from Alfred. He stared at (y/n), confusion giving way to disbelief.

“Please, stop fighting.” (Y/n) continued. “These men are Wysterian knights. Alyn placed them as my bodyguards.”

“I’ve never seen them before.” Nico’s eyes turned daggers as he looked at Alfred.

“They were never at the castle often.”

“Princess,” Alfred’s gaze never left Nico. He still held his sword defensively, placing it inbetween him and the other knight. “We should apprehend this traitor at once.”

“What the hell did you call me?” Nico’s frown deepened.

“I called you a traitor.” Alfred said. “A Stein knight going undercover to infiltrate Wysteria.” Alfred spat. “You shame a knight’s honor. You have no place -”

“Alfred, stop it.” (Y/n) stepped beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. She heard Nico scowl but paid him no heed. “Get Tobias back to the mansion.”

“B-but my lady!”

“Nico will not hurt me.” (Y/n) said firmly. “I want to speak to him. In private.”

“He can do that inside the mansion walls, my lady.” Tobias was on his feet now, blood running down his nose.“In chains.”

(y/n) took a deep breath “Nico will not be coming back to us.”

“What?” It was Nico this time who was confused. “(Y/n), I’m here because -”

(Y/n) forced herself not to look at Nico. “Alfred, please?”

Alfred shook his head. “Tobias and I will watch you from there.” He waved his hand behind him. “I’m sorry your highness, but I cannot leave you alone like this and sleep well at night.”

(Y/n) hesitated. She didn’t want the two knights eavesdropping into their conversation. But there was no way in hell that Nico would lay a foot in the mansion and survive. “Very well.”

(Y/n) watched as Alfred motioned to Tobias. Undiscernable hand signals were exchanged and (y/n) wondered if Nico understood. She looked at him and felt her chest tighten again as she saw that he was staring at her and none of the earlier ferocity was to be seen. Nico’s golden eyes were gentle and kind. And he smiled at her almost as if they were the only ones there.

(Y/n) tried smiling back but her chest felt like a thousand waves were crashing against each other, and whatever emotion crept to her face made Nico pout in worry. (Y/n) tore her gaze away, taking in a deep breath.

Tobias and Alfred each took a side opposite each other, walking only as far as eavesdropping was impossible. (Y/n) waited for them to move further but neither knight budged.

“(Y/n)…” Nico had sheathed his sword and was smiling again now yet she could see the creases of weariness in his eyes. He sighed and then chuckled. “I missed you.”

“Nico, I…” She missed him. She missed Nico so much. As much as she hated to admit it there hasn’t been a day when she didn’t think of him.

For a moment, (y/n) forgot everything she had gone through and all she felt she needed to do was to run into Nico’s arms and never let go. She wanted to kiss him, to feel him in her arms, to feel the way he lifted her in arms in turn. And his laugh. Gods, she missed his laugh.

But that was only for a moment.

Things were different now.

“Reports have been received that a mystery man is going out and about and overthrowing those opposing the princess system.” (Y/n) forced her tone to be as neutral as possible. “Was that you?”

Nico sighed again, his smile rueful now. “Yes.”

All the pent up emotion she felt the past three weeks suddenly came rushing back into her chest that she shook as she stepped towards Nico. And before she could even begin to completely understand what happened, she had smacked Nico hard in the face.

The sound shocked her as much as it did him. Nico’s eyes were wide, his hand barely touching his cheek that was quickly turning a shade of red.

“Did King Byron order you to do this?” (Y/n) demanded. “Did he?”

Nico made no comment.

“Did King Byron as the sovereign of Stein ask you to lend a hand in the political issues of Wysteria?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?” (Y/n) felt the first tear run down her cheek. Then another, and another.

She didn’t wipe away her tears this time. No. For too long she had been holding in her emotions - or was it that she had been holding them at arm’s length? And now that Nico was here… Now that Nico had returned…

(Y/n) almost jumped. Nico was suddenly near her, placing a hankerchief on her cheek. “I wanted…” his voice was barely a whisper. “I wanted to protect you. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

No…

“It wasn’t the same. I was always looking for you, always wondering if you were okay.” He looked at her squarely now and she could see the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry, (y/n). We’ve talked, I know. But as the days went by, I understood what you meant. I shouldn’t have -”

“Stop!”

“What?”

“Just fucking stop!” All manners were beyond her at this point and she pushed Nico away from her. “No. Enough of that. I’m not going to go through this again!”

How many times had they had this conversation? Too many. How many times had she cried for him to not go? Too many. How many times had she tried talking to him, explaining to him, practically coaxing him to stay? Too many.

Even she had her limits.

“(Y/n) listen to me,” Nico’s voice was pleading as he tried to reach out to her but she took a step back, then another, and another, shaking her head all the while.

“No.” Even to her ears, her voice was loud and firm and laced with everything she had felt when he left her carriage on their way back to Stein. It was angry. It was bitter.

It was hurt.

“You come into Wysterian territory without a formal order from Stein. You interfere with political issues without so much as a sanction from your king! This is wrong, Nico! You should stop from engaging in these acts -!”

“This isn’t for King Byron!” Nico was holding back his own tears now, his hands balled into fists. “It was for you. It was for me.”

“Stop it! You think you can just leave and then expect me to welcome you back with open arms as if nothing has changed?”

”(Y/n), I’m sorry for all -”

”I don’t need that now!”

“It was for us, (y/n)! I did it for us!”

(Y/n) shouted in frustration, unsheathing her sword and pointing it at Nico point blank. To say that Nico was shocked would be an understatement. He had gone pale, his eyes round and horrified, his mouth open in disbelief.

“Leave! Or by the authority vested in me as Princess Elect, I will put you under arrest!”

Enough.

They’ve said their goodbyes weeks ago.

There would be no point in repeating all that.

#midnight cinderella #nico meier #ythmir writing #ythmir fanfics

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hockeyrpffanman · 5 years

Text

Coming Home to You

So I wrote this part yesterday and posted it under Secret-SidGeno-Writer’s post about a post break-up Sid/Geno and their angst filled journey. I wanted to give the story its own post since I think I’m turning it into an actual story. It might not get much attention since I don’t have many followers, but I want you all to have it anyway. This will have a happy ending once I’m finished with the whole story, no surprise ambiguous endings. For now it’s all angst and hurt.

Length: 1k

Warnings: Angst, Sid/Geno Breakup, Depressive thoughts, Typical breakup sadness

Part: 1

The boxes by the door were a reminder that this was real. It wasn’t just some dream he’d been having for the last month. He was really leaving. Sid stood by the couch in the living room facing away from the door as he listened to Geno rummage around the house and pack his boxes and bags with his stuff. Every time a box hit the floor next to the door Sid flinched.

This wasn’t unexpected. The trade was an astonishment to everyone, but as soon as it was announced their was no question of their relationship status. They had talked about this long before it had happened. Their schedules wouldn’t allow for them to have a proper relationship. They wouldn’t be able to see each other as often as they wanted, even with technology as advanced as it was. It was also unfair to them both to hope that the few times a year during the season and all of off season could quench their needs. It certainly didn’t mean they wanted it to end, they didn’t want to hurt the other, it was just the reality of the situation.

The other reason for the break up they weren’t addressing was who he was traded for. Jack had come up in their conversations many times over the last couple weeks. Sid had confessed that there was a short relationship during their time at Shattuck-St. Mary’s when they first started dating, but nothing came of their fling and they broke it off as good friends. With the rumors spreading like wildfire of him possibly coming to the Penguins Geno’s words cut him deep when he offered to step aside to let that relationship blossom again. The words were more crude, but it was the gist of the conversation. Sid didn’t entertain the idea at all, gave his own two cents regarding the situation and left. He hadn’t returned that night until well after midnight drunk and a complete mess. He slept on the couch to avoid Geno’s potential questioning. It wasn’t brought up after that.

Sid folded his arms across his chest and held himself, as if to stave off the broken feeling he knew was coming. He heard another box drop by the door and a sigh from Geno. Sid doesn’t want to talk about it. He wanted it to be over. He wanted to forget everything bad and go back to being normal, flat, hockey-robot Sidney Crosby. He didn’t want to feel so broken. He didn’t want to feel the cuts from the shattered glass of his emotions. He hadn’t expected anything like that with the break up. It was supposed to be mutual and clean cut. He wrapped himself tighter when he heard the footsteps come closer.

“Sid,” Geno tried. He voice was raw and full of emotion in just Sid’s name. Sidney can’t deal with that. They made the decision together. It was for the best that they broke up. Sid won’t turn around. He didn’t want to see the look on Geno’s face; anguish, grief, bitterness, pity, heaven forbid Geno pitied him for Sid’s sadness. Not that Sid really believed that. Geno’s heart was golden. He cried at Rom-Coms and cute animal videos, there would be nothing but sadness in his beautiful eyes and Sid knew he’d start sobbing the moment he saw it.

Sid did let his right hand go of his chest and reached back to Geno. Geno took the offered hand, laced their fingers together and stepped into Sid’s back, his chest warm and long against Sid’s backside. He wrapped their clasped hands around Sid’s frame and rested them at Sid’s heart as he wrapped his free hand around Sid’s waist. The heavy sigh that sounded like a sob from Geno ripped through Sid and almost made him turn and change his mind. Sid dropped his chin to his chest and willed himself to not cry, at least not until after Geno left. He pulled up Geno’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. If Sid pulled it away and noted tears on the back of Geno’s hand, he’d deny it. Geno squeezed Sid’s waist tighter to him, kissed the back of Sid’s neck, nuzzled his nose in Sid’s hair, and inhaled what Sid knows is Geno’s favorite scent of shampoo Sid used. If this was any other situation it would have lead to another, very different, activity, but before long Geno unlaced their hands and pulled away.

Sid could feel his soul reach out for Geno to come back, but he doesn’t. He listened as Geno walked back to the open door and picked up the box there. Sid realized too late that it was really him who turned to reach out for Geno and he saw that all the other boxes were gone. Geno had already finished putting them in the truck while Sid wallowed by the couch. He didn’t even help Geno move his boxes to the truck, what kind of horrible person was he?

Sid started to panic, wanted to shout and tell Geno to stop, he still loved him and beg him to not go. Sid can feel the hot prick of tears as they well up in his eyes. Geno stopped and looked over at Sid as he put the box on his one hip and grabbed the door handle. He paused for a moment, bit his lip like he did when he wanted to say something, but couldn’t come up with how to say it. Then he looked down and away, the moment passed by, and shut the door.

Sid watched the door and waited, hoped, and grieved for the door to open, for Geno to come back in and take him into his arms. To look into Sid’s eyes and tell him everything would be okay, they’ll get though it together. When enough time had passed, and he could no longer hear the truck running outside, Sid collapsed to his knees, put his face into his hands and sobbed, defeated.

It was over.

#sid/geno #hockey rpf #Coming Home to You #fanman writes fic #angst #break ups #Part 1

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ask-de-writer · 6 years

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A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE ROM : Origin of the Rom, part 7 : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 4 of 6

A Brief History of the Rom and Their Customs

Or:

How Luna and Celestia Discovered the Rom of the Equestrian Roads

the Seventh part in the origin of the Rom

ORIGIN OF THE ROM SERIES in reading order. (will be completed as the stories are posted in linked form)

Part One : NORE’S CHOICE, which starts HERE

Part Two : WELCOME TO EQUESTRIA! which starts HERE

Part Three : FAIR AND UN-FAIR, which starts HERE

Part Four : ON THE ROADS OF EQUESTRIA, which starts HERE

Part Five : THE FIRST ROM HEARTHWARMING, which starts HERE

Part Six : SANDO’S LAKE, which starts HERE

Part Seven : A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE ROM, which starts HERE

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by Alte Seele

17062 words

Writing begun 04/28/14

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Broken ribs were brought together by midnight magic. Many hued magic sealed them together to apparently whole ribs. Muscle, skin and blood vessels were done by Celesta’s magic bringing them close and Luna sealing them.

Celestia explained to the Mare holding Carolan’s head, “Luna is far better with soft things. I do the best with hard ones. She does the soft parts while I help. I do the hard pieces while she helps.”

With Carolan’s chest closed, Luna began cutting along a severely fractured rib. It made the reassembly of the splintered bone far easier. With Celestia’s help, she closed that cut and began another. She followed by repairing the simple fractures without needing to cut at all.

Gently she and Celestia tipped Carolan’s body up so that his mouth was down. Luna explained, “We have the blood that spilled into his chest out. Blood also spilled inside his lungs. We will need another cloth to catch it. I will use my magic to help it move down and out of him. It will look alarming but it is harmless.”

As predicted, it did look alarming as blood came out of his mouth, some in globs, some still liquid, and some as thin streaks in mucus. Cloths caught it all. Soon, Luna was satisfied.

She directed the mare that had been Carolan’s companion through the whole ordeal, “We need to lay Carolan where he will be comfortable. A good bedding would be best. He will awaken in an hour or so.

“He will need …”

“You must attend to that injured Guardspony! Let this worthless trash …” The arrogant interrupter suddenly swallowed hard. He saw Celestia’s flank mark.

Near babbling, he went on, “Your Highness! What are you doing here? This is a very dangerous place! A huge monster was seen here. We must get you to safety! I have brought armed ponies to slay the beast.”

Celestia glared at the obese pony with his Chain of Office. “Baron Nulcount! You have interrupted both of your Princesses! We are giving treatment instructions for a recent major emergency surgery patient.

“We have two more important surgeries yet to do. You are keeping them in unnecessary pain. Go on, Luna. Tell her what she needs to know.”

Luna nodded and returned to the mare, who had also managed the cloths during the operation to save Carolan. “He will awaken soon. He will need small amounts of water and leafy greens. Spinach is best. I will send for some for you to use. Space the meals and water about fifteen minutes to a half hour apart. He will want to sleep a lot. Let him.

“Carolan will have to have a week or so of this before he is fit to play again. His injury is not the problem here. He lost a great deal of blood. Replacing it will take time and the gentle care that I have prescribed.

“I will be here to help you care for him.”

The mare accepted the instructions with a sad face. “We will miss the Trottingham fair. It is a big one.” She gazed down at the ruin of splintered wood and tangled strings that had been a fine lyre and added, “I guess that it does not matter. We have nothing left to play for our coin.”

Luna listened carefully and nodded her head slowly. “I do see the problems. I will take care of them. Fear not.”

She turned to the dancers and her magic soaked into the broken leg of one. She said, “This is a simple break. It is going to be painful for a little. There will be swelling too. It will go down in a week or so. You will be able to dance again soon. I have already fused the bone back together. Give it an hour before you stand on it, OK?”

The other dancer looked at Luna as if she was seeing a goddess instead of a Princess.

Luna told her, “Your case is different. You will recover completely also. I am going to have to put you to sleep the same as I did for Carolan. For the same reason. I am going to have to cut open your right leg to heal it. The bone is badly broken. The left is not so bad and we will do it like I did for your friend.”

With total trust, the dancer just said, “What you need to do, do it. I have seen three miracles today and you are all of them.”

“We must talk more of this later, after you are healed and no longer in pain. Now, I am going to put you to sleep.” A light touch of midnight magic to the side of her neck put her to sleep in seconds.

The operation was simple after that. The hardest part was keeping the fat slob of a Baron out of the way. Celestia did that admirably.

As Luna finished with the dancer and giving instructions for their care, she heard the Baron exclaim, “Treason! Me? But we were coming to save the Fair from a monster!”

Luna stepped delicately over the wreckage of Carolan’s lyre as she went to join the conversation.

“A Monster? Me? Do not be foolish, Baron. What are my titles?”

“That is foolish! Don’t you know them?”

Tapping the Baron’s forehead with a hoof, Luna replied, “Indeed I do. I wanted to see if there is anything in here at all! Apparently not.”

“I am the Princess Luna, Co-ruler of Equestria, Guardian of the Night, Harbinger of Dreams and Sometime The True Embodiment of All Nightmares.”

“What happened here was the release of that last. It is not only a title. It is me.”

“Like a Were-beast! A wild rampage of destruction stopped only by brave guardsponies!”

Midnight magic yanked the Baron’s forehooves back, dropping him on his jaw. The magic seized his ears and slammed his head up and down on the ground. “No. No, Baron. Not a Were-beast on a rampage.

“Have you ever had a nightmare? I know that you have. A pleasant dream? I know that too. ME. My influence at both extremes and the ones between. All me. No Were-beast. Just me. Doing what I do with ponies. Dreams. Sometimes the dream becomes a reality like this mess.

“The Guardsponies did ALL of the damage that you see here. They broke the legs of helpless dancing mares. The Major beat that BLIND musician near to death. They smashed the instruments of the musicians. They wrecked these stalls and booths.

The dead guard was trying to rape innocent mares before my eyes. He refused to stop when commanded. The Nighmare stopped him.

The Major beat a BLIND musician and smashed his lyre. The musician’s life was saved by emergency surgery done by Celestia and I. Another few minutes and he would have been dead!”

The Baron managed to get out, “A Rom! Good riddance!” His head was slammed into the dirt once for each word.

“Rom or not, Baron, A CITIZEN OF EQUESTRIA! A Civilian offering no resistance!

“The Major stated that their offering reasons for not wishing to perform at the Palace was Treason. He stated that their punishment before any arrest or trial was the proper way to deal with the Treason of not respecting my wishes.

“He set that as proper. He and his ponies have defied my direct orders and my stated wishes. Treason, convicted by his own mouth. I have given him the punishment that he was meeting out. If he lives he will be arrested and tried. If not, an unmarked Traitor’s Grave will be his.”

Utterly confused, the Baron cried, “This is madness! The Rom are simply the Trash of the Roads! You can’t control them at all! They will not settle in any place! They pay no attention to any boundary, be it Road District, town, city, barony, county, or Duchy!

“It is all that one can do to get the tolls and fees from them!”

Luna crouched down by the Baron’s head and pointed out, “I was informed that the towns, cities, baronies, counties and duchies have laws forbidding them from entry. If that is so, how could they possibly settle anywhere?”

Suddenly her head tilted and her eyes opened wide. She was totally focused on the Baron. “Tolls and fees? You mean the Royal Road District tolls? What fees are these that you are talking of? You know, I do have a perfect memory, necessary for adjustments of the heavens. Also handy when auditing Royal Road reports.

“There is no mention of tolls or fees charged to Rom for over two hundred and fifty years back. That is as far as such records go.

“Section tolls include camping in waysides and the use of fairgrounds during participation in fairs. The Rom are here. I will find out what the tolls and fees are, how much and for what.”

The Baron was cringing even more than the enforced position of his head caused. “They are traditional! They have been taken from time out of mind!”

“Fascinating. Embezzlement is good because it is traditional. Did you hear that, Celestia? The excuse is that if his father stole from the Crowns of Equestria, it is fine for him too! I think not.”

Celestia was watching her sister in mild amazement. This was a side of Luna that, after these thousands of years, she had not seen. She wondered what had set off both the Embodiment of Nightmare and this relentless quest for knowledge in public, yet.

It was obvious that her sister was out not only to get facts for a judgment, she was definitely trying to embarrass the Baron. Celestia waited. She did trust Luna. There was clear outrage in her and Celestia knew that Luna would tell her if she did not figure it out herself.

One thing Celestia was certain of. It had to do with these ponies she had never heard of before today. These ponies called the Rom.

Celestia had to admit that their unusual sashes and harnesses were unique in her experience. There was a faint resemblance to some of the formal traditional wear of the Saddle-Arabian Ambassador. He wore no harness but did wear a white barding. It was sometimes done in several parts.

During the operation on Carolan she had noticed the superlative workmanship of the knives that Luna was using. As she looked about, she saw more signs of such craftsmanship.

She was curious too, about the origin of a race of unicorns that resembled the horses of Saddle-Arabia and had such gracefully curved horns. She could feel the raw power of them if it were ever released.

To her surprise, a Rom mare came cautiously close, offering a paper cone filled with breaded and fried sweet clover flower tops. One of her Guards was about to strike it away.

“No, Sargent. Allow her to approach. I will trust her. I had help from her earlier.” Besides the cone of really delicious snacks, the mare had a second cone that had been waxed to waterproof it. There was an iced sweet drink in it.

Celestia enjoyed both but saved some for Luna. Luna was busy homing in on the Baron’s embezzlement of Road Section tolls and those fees, which were turning into quite a list. All of them either outright illegal or illegally applied to Rom only.

Luna finally turned about dismissively. “I am done with you, Baron. I will be interviewing a number of others before I pass judgment on you. You may leave. NOW!”

Luna saw the treats in Celestia’s magic and gave her a questioning look. Celestia grinned and pointed to the young mare. “She brought it for us. I saved you some. Still has ice in it!”

Luna gave the young mare a long, considering stare. She did not flinch. She sat up proud and said, “Thank you for saving my grandfather. He was blinded years ago by some stupid town ponies.

“They accused him of looking lasciviously at a mare pony that they fancied. It was crazy because there is nothing attractive about short, mis-colored ponies, at least to us. We Rom are Horses and proud of it!” She finished, head high.

Luna looked sadly about at the wreckage of the sales stalls and games. Then she looked the mare in the eye. She said, “It was an honor to save him and the dancers both.

“What is your name, good mare? You have helped me and I do not know you beyond Carolan’s granddaughter.”

Eyes alight and head high, the mare replied, “My name is in our old Gyptian tongue. It is Sha-Ja-Shehan.”

“I Thank you, Sha-Ja-Shehan. My name is Luna. As you know, I am one of the twin rulers of Equestria. Your horses have been hidden from my sister and I. We need to learn much about you. This sort of thing must not happen again.

“I need to speak to your many horses. I owe them apology for this and damages too. It was the ponies who were supposedly guarding me that caused all of this. Can you please bring me those who lead you? Your Princess has many questions and apologies to offer. What I have seen is clearly only the tip of the problem. I wish to find out as much as I can of the truth here.”

The eldest Rom, leader of a Rom band, stepped forward. “Ma'am, Princess Luna. I can answer most of what you need.”

“Why did your ponies refuse to perform at the castle? Most performers dream of a chance to entertain at the castle.”

Rom considered his answer carefully. “You saw what just happened. It was not the worst. We do not enter most towns except at need. We do not enter Canterlot at all nor come within the shadow of its wall.

“In this, we follow the lead of the Ghost Who Guides. He says that the Canterlot Fair is as close as he will go. For us it has always been so.”

Luna’s mind suddenly cast back centuries. She remembered the Edict of Banishment. She remembered finding the foster father that she loved several times, only to lose him when some officious courtier PROVED that the pony that she was speaking to was him. This Ghost Who Guides might be De Writer, her long lost foster father, again.

She quietly whispered her suspicion into Celestia’s ear. She finished, “It must NEVER be proved.” Tears at the corner of her eye, she added, “I don’t want to lose him again.”

Celestia nodded agreement. “We must never be sure of who he is. If this is father, how can we keep some kind of contact with him?

Luna brightened. “I think that I know. We must not pressure him into trying to enter Canterlot. What we can do is go to him. We can offer to be god mothers to his foals as an apology for the horrible way that his ponies … make that his horses, have been treated. That will sort of tie the Rom into the Equestrian Royalty. Perhaps it will make their treatment by our other subjects better. Time will tell if more need be done.”

Celestia turned to the Rom and asked directly, “Is this Ghost Who Guides here at the fair? You have said that you follow him. We would like to speak with him about you and your plight.”

The Rom gave them a bow and said, “He is not here at this time. If the Ghost so wills it, he can be here swiftly. The loved dead are always with us, and none more loved nor closer than he. We will send our request that he come. He is always watching over us.”

A slightly harsh donkey’s voice came from behind the Rom. “There will be no need to send for me, my old friend. I am here.” An elderly donkey dressed in Rom style with brightly colored and embroidered sashes and a beautifully tooled leather caravan pulling harness stepped around him.

Turning to the Princesses, he began a courtly bow. That was too much for one of Celestia’s guards. Officiously, he stepped forward and tried to shove the old donkey away. He was saying, “Get out of here! Their Highnesses are awaiting an important visitor!” His hooves passed right through the old donkey as if he was not there. Failing to connect caused the guard to lose his balance and fall on his face.

As he looked down at the fallen guard, the raspy bray of the old donkey said, “I was invited to this jaw-flapping. You were not.” He then seated himself on the fallen Guard’s neck, preventing the armored pony from rising.

Looking up to the Princesses, the old donkey introduced himself. “I am called Marchhare, the Ghost Who Guides. These horses of the Rom are my friends. I believe that you asked to speak to me.”

Luna looked at him in a puzzled way and asked directly, “Are you a really a Ghost?”

Pointing at the assembled Rom behind him with the sweep of a long ear, Marchhare said, “They keep saying so. They say that I died in saving them from starvation, thirst, and heat-stroke on the desert of Celestia’s Anvil. Really, I do think that I would have noticed it if I had died.”

Marchhare paused to somewhat comically scratch behind his left ear with his left hind hoof. He added, “Got to admit that it gets harder and harder to deny. That was over 200 years ago.

“Besides, there are plenty of rude idiots like him,” he pointed down at the still prone guard under his hind quarters, “Who keep missing so spectacularly when they try shoving me around. It surely can’t all be bad coordination.”

Luna put a hoof to her mouth to suppress a giggle. Then she sobered and asked, “Do you lead these Rom?”

“No. The different bands of Rom all have a leader called Rom. This confuses everypony. Doesn’t bother us horses. If I am asked, or in certain emergencies, I will offer advice or even assistance.”

The Rom spoke up, “Only the most foolish or unwise do not take the advice of the Ghost Who Guides. His help is always welcome. We lead but he guides.”

Luna decided to trust her original instinct. To the old donkey she said, “This ghastly mess started because I requested a command performance by your lovely dancers and musicians at the castle.

“When, following your tradition, they refused politely, my guard almost went insane. I have lived for a very long time. I have fought and lead in wars. I have only once before seen anything like it.

“I have two things to propose that may help the overall situation but they will need your approval. I would extend the Royal Wing over your horses. You live on the roads of Equestria. We, my sister Celestia and I, OWN those roads. We will pay every Rom band for reports on the true condition of the roads of Equestria. That will give you some serious leverage with many communities because they get Royal funds to maintain those roads.

“The other thing that we would do, is become the God parents of your colts and fillies. We will come to you for this, not make you come to us. We will need instruction in your ways when we come to fulfill our duties as God parents.

“Will you allow this?”

TO BE CONTINUED

<== PREVIOUS NEXT ==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

#A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE ROM #Origin of the Rom part 7 #MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer #Part 4 of 6

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jemilyreial · 4 years

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What Do Cats Spray When They Spray Wonderful Cool Ideas

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A neutered cat will be able to watch for her and it cost him a more secluded place and search for new one to two parts water in a leash or under control and prevention of fleas in Flea Allergies.Avoid those products that can help you make the situation with leather and faux leathers.Although flea infestations aren't generally regarded as safe for adult cats will stop trying to remove the extrasThey are also available that doesn't necessarily mean there isn't a pecking order.Provide stimulation so your cat neutered or whole, are capable of quickly seeping into your carpet, pick it up near her normal cat behaviors.

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Cat Urine Spraying How To Stop

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No Scratch Cat Spray Reviews

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#What Do Cats Spray When They Spray Wonderful Cool Ideas #Can You Get High On Cat Pee

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barisifictionarchive · 7 years

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Lucia Barba

How do You Count all the Stars in the Sky? by theauthorkaty

(1013|General|Complete)

Rafael brings Sonny to midnight mass, where Sonny meets Lucia Barba for the first time.

Time Never Wasted by punk_rock_yuppie

(1218|Teen|Complete)

Rafael is going to get his mother a pet. He meets Sonny along the way.

I Have Danced Inside Your Eyes by Somany_ships

(1538|Teen|WIP)

This happened through the years. Every time his soulmate would get injured, he would always see what happened during the night. Rafael would always cringe when he got hurt, not because he was in immense pain, but because this poor kid is having to put up with pain from someone who is seven years older than him.

Soul mate AU where once the younger of the pair turns five, then whenever either of the couple gets injured, the other feels the pain of the initial impact. If you are destined to meet (it's actually fairly rare) then you have dreams about what injury happened during the day.

Coming Out by PrismaChris

(2351|Teen|Complete)

Rafael Barba came out as bisexual four times in his life, spanning 26 years. It got easier each time.

Not Until I Felt Your Sunshine by Robin Hood (kjack89)

(2400|Teen|Complete)

Barba needs to find something to call Carisi besides, well, Carisi. Or detective. Or, heaven forbid, as he has done exactly one time in public to his eternal mortification, babe.

Moments in Time by tobeconspicuous

(3820|Teen|WIP)

When Catalina was a child she knew that there was something special about her. Her mother said magic flowed through their veins and that some people would never understand.

Catalina was unsure what her mother meant by that until one day when she was ten years old, she found a young boy in her backyard.

A Finished Fanfic in Emails by Robin Hood (kjack89)

(3883|Teen|Complete)

Dear Rita,

You will undoubtedly be interested to know that my perpetually-single and often social recluse son has informed me that he will not only be attending my retirement gala but will be bringing his boyfriend, a charming young man he refers to solely as ‘Sonny’. If you have any clue as to who this Sonny may very well be, please feel free to pass it along to me. You know how Rafael is — he refuses to share even the most basic personal details but is never one to skimp when filling me in on his latest cases.

Best, Lucia Barba

Joie De Vivre by Aviator39

(5366|Teen|WIP)

:: Sometimes home is two eyes and a heartbeat :: For Rafael Barba, the most important person in his life is his daughter Carina, and vice versa. With Rafael's abusive boyfriend behind bars, death threats and a malicious stalker hanging over their heads and a hidden danger ahead - can the Barba's stay strong and learn to lean on family.

He Gave Me the World by ilovedrwilson

(6086|Mature|WIP)

Exploring the "While Sonny was Sleeping" 'verse. Moments before Sonny's memory loss including their first kiss and proposal, Rafael's POV during the events of WSWS, and the events after WSWS including the wedding and honeymoon!

My Love Could Not Keep Him by Robin Hood (kjack89)

(6131|Teen|Complete)

Fin took a step closer to Carisi, his hands held up placatingly. “The way I see it, you’ve got two choices,” he said. “You can holster your gun and come with me, or you can do something really stupid that you’ll regret.”

“Is Rafael still dead in both those choices?” Carisi asked numbly.

Fin shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, bluntly, knowing that sugarcoating it or lying would do far more harm than good. “Doesn’t matter what you choose — you can’t bring him back.” He saw Carisi hesitate, his expression full of anguish, and he added softly, “You can live without him, Sonny.”

In The Heights by jamesgatz1925

(8233|Teen|Complete)

Next up to bat, the Barba's. They run the cab company, they struggle in the barrio. See their son Rafael's off at college, tuition is mad steep. So they can't sleep, everything they get is mad cheap.

In which Rafael has to return home, and Sonny is the boy next door.

Spanish Blackbird by Splotcher

(11541|Mature|WIP)

Rafael Barba has a few extra secrets in his deeply private life. Unluckily enough, between work, death threats, and cases, Sonny Carisi crashes right into one.

While Sonny was Sleeping by ilovedrwilson

(18039|General|Complete)

Well, only a lawyer would be pretentious enough to wear a pocket square in a hospital room. Could Gina or Theresa have brought their boyfriend to Sonny’s hospital room? He couldn’t recall them mentioning anyone, especially someone who would be close enough to feel comfortable holding his Ma’s hand.

Catching the Bouquet by Kaye_21

(27516|Not Rated|Complete)

Sonny gets shot. Rafael doesn't take it well.

Lucia Barba meets the Carisis. Rafael thinks that's even worse.

Worst of all, Rafael considers marriage.

Busted by Kaye_21

(43343|Not Rated|Complete)

Everyone (seriously, everyone) finds out about Sonny and Rafael, in 6 parts.

Reactions vary.

In which Fin is groovy, Sonny and Amanda are bros, Rafael and Liv are besties, the Carisis are hilarious, Lucia Barba is scary, Tucker is nice and Amaro gives dating advice.

Together by booyahkendell

(45701|Teen|WIP)

Rafael and Sonny's life, post-Elisa.

Running by Kaye_21

(47805|Not Rated|Complete)

Sonny considers marriage. Among other things.

Major life decisions are made.

Search by linzclair219

(50074|Mature|WIP)

Sonny needs Rafael. Rafael needs Sonny.

They know it to the cores of their very beings that they need each other.

What happens when a tough case brings back some old friends and some new enemies? How will the couple handle the strain this case brings down on their relationship? And what happens when their team is put to the ultimate test?

Set about two months after the end of Belong. Final part of this series.

Belong by linzclair219

(64356|Mature|Complete)

Recovery is a long road, but it's easier walked with someone who understands. Rafael is not quite the person he was, and neither is Sonny. But they still have each other, they still love each other, and it's obvious that, on their own, they would have crumbled by now.

Set four months after the events in Company, during June 2017.

Noche Sin Estrella

lambnoire

(92608|Teen|Complete)

When Rafael Barba is injured during a complicated case, the squad must work quickly to identify the culprit while building up evidence against an abusive father. Meanwhile, Sonny Carisi struggles to come to terms with a realization as he fights not to buckle under the pressure of the investigation.

Grow by jamesgatz1925

(127107|Teen|WIP)

Sonny and Rafael. Growing up together.

#barisi #lucia barba #themed list #Less than 5k #less than 10k #10k to 25k #25k to 50k #50k to 100k #100k plus

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josephkitchen0 · 6 years

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What Does a Chicken Coop Need in Case of Emergency

By Patricia Harris Pointing – “Expect the unexpected” is as true in poultry-keeping as anywhere else. Having an answer to what does a chicken coop need in case of emergency is very important before disaster strikes. Either prepare in advance or scramble around in a panic when trouble strikes. Having done it both ways myself, I highly recommend preparation!

First Aid Kit Contents and Their Uses

It only takes a few minutes to put together a kit that will spare you a great deal of stress, improvisation and midnight trips to the drugstore. It’s important to put together your kit knowing the proper first aid contents and their uses. Start with basic supplies for dressing wounds: unopened saline or bottled water, an eye dropper or syringe, sterile gauze, paper towels, vet wrap, clean sharp scissors, and waterless hand sanitizer. A plastic basin or dishpan makes a good soaking tub, and can also keep supplies up out of the litter when you’re treating an injury. Old towels help you restrain or dry a chicken. Plastic baggies are useful for preserving samples such as unusual droppings.

Ready to Start Your Own Backyard Flock?

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What does a chicken coop need in an emergency situation? Well, a basic medicine chest for the flock might consist of: Blu-kote or other dark-colored anti-pick lotion; Neosporin cream; either betadine or hydrogen peroxide (the latter is harsh on delicate tissue, but the foaming action can help cleanse badly contaminated wounds); and baby shampoo. A general-purpose poultry vitamin and an electrolyte powder round out the kit. You may wish to stock other supplies as well, depending on your philosophy and level of experience: vaseline for lubrication and for protecting combs from frostbite, hemorrhoid cream for treating a prolapse, a magnifier, alcohol swabs, surgical scissors. Many poultry owners keep antibiotics on hand as well, although it’s important to know when to use them and when not to.

Additionally, all responsible chicken owners need to work out in advance what they’d do for a hopelessly suffering animal. If you’d prefer to ask a vet or neighbor for help, make sure that the means for plan B are nonetheless on hand (a hatchet or sharp knife) in case the situation is urgent and your planned assistance is unavailable.

Prepare The Chicken Coop

Most of us would admit that backyard chicken owners do not always exercise the greatest of care in the placement, attachment or maintenance of heat lamps. Even just a regular light bulb or water heater can ignite dust or dry litter, and it only takes one chewing rodent or lightning strike to set wiring on fire. So unless your coop has no electrical service at all (not even extension cords), you NEED a fire extinguisher ready at hand. This may seem obvious, but in my experience, it is frighteningly rare to see it taken care of. Fire extinguishers are pretty inexpensive these days, certainly much less costly than having to rebuild your coop and replace your flock! You want one labeled “AC” or “ABC”, to handle both conventional and electrical fires. Read the instructions when you buy it so that if heaven forbid you should ever have to use it, it’s not completely unfamiliar. Mount it just inside the doorway. The coop you save could be your own!

One of the most-needed emergency essentials and often the hardest to find is a good flashlight. Keep a flashlight within easy reach of the door. In fact, you may want two: a large flashlight to provide wide-angle lighting, and a smaller one (possibly one of the new battery-free types, charged by cranking or shaking) to hold in one hand or even in your mouth while you examine an injury.

Water is a no-brainer when asking, what does a chicken coop need? Thirst kills quickly. A backup system should always be at the ready: a spare vacuum-style waterer, or even just clean buckets. If you use an automatic watering system, lay in a supply of replacement gaskets and valves (and a mop!). Additionally, those of us in the North need a plan to keep water liquid if a heated waterer fails or the power goes out during the winter. Some people carry buckets of lukewarm water out to the coop multiple times per day. Others stockpile some of the chemical heat packs used in hand warmers or back-pain wraps; one or more of them, exposed to air according to instructions to start the heating process and placed flat underneath a vacuum-style waterer, can delay freezing for a surprisingly long time.

Because a loose board can admit predators and a blown light bulb can spell disaster for chicks in a brooder, you will never regret establishing a designated repair kit. Mine includes a spare hammer, pliers, assorted nails, fence staples, some spare hardware cloth and 1″ wire mesh, some spare medium-gauge wire, an extension cord that will reach the house, and spare light bulbs. If you have an incubator, keep a spare wafer. If your coop sometimes floods, you might add some pallets and a roll of old carpeting, to temporarily raise the chickens up above the water.

What’s your plan for sick chicken symptoms or an injured chicken? A simple, moveable panel can be knocked together from scrap wood and chicken wire, with a “roof” of heavy cardboard, to pen an invalid in a corner. Store it flat and out of the way until needed. A large dog crate also makes an excellent hospital pen; it can even be set outdoors on nice days to allow a recuperating chicken some sunshine, fresh air, and grass. If you’re fortunate enough to have a vet who will deal with chickens, keep a suitable box handy for transport.

Also, figure out how you could create an isolation area if the need should arise. There are many contagious chicken diseases that could strike, and you may want to isolate symptomatic individuals, and newly purchased birds (other than day-old chicks) should be quarantined for a month or so in case they’re carrying something that could be passed to your existing flock, a depressingly common occurrence. This requires housing somewhere out of range of airborne or crawling contagion. Could you fence off a corner of the garage? Use another barn or shed? Do you have a tractor-type pen that could be beefed up, insulated or have a light bulb added? Many creative solutions are possible, but if they’ll require any scrounging or hammering then now is the time to take care of it.

Prepare Yourself

The ultimate “emergency kit” is the human brain. Keep your vet’s phone number handy. Write down – before you need it – the contact information for your state extension agency or state university poultry department. And since animals have an inconvenient knack for having crises late at night or on holiday weekends, a good bookshelf is essential.

The internet can put you in touch with help, too. If you haven’t already done so, spend a little time identifying reliable sources of poultry keeping advice on the internet; bookmark the sites you find helpful and organize those bookmarks into a single folder so you can find them easily. Print out any web pages that strike you as especially useful, assemble them in a binder, and keep it handy in the coop for a wealth of emergency support even when your computer is down. If you find a forum or bulletin board you respect, consider signing up now so you don’t have to sit around during a crisis waiting to be issued a username and password. Remember, though, that while most people online are sincerely trying to help to the best of their abilities, not all advice is equally good. Double check what you’re told, and trust your own judgment.

Finally, think about whatever natural disasters your region experiences — hurricane, tornado, flood, wildfire. Do you have a method for rain water harvesting and storing several days’ worth of water for your animals as well as for yourself? Do you know where you’d go if you had to evacuate your home, and what you’d do with your flock — take all or some of them with you (how? where?), leave them in the coop with extra feed and water, or set them free to fend for themselves? There are no right and wrong answers but you need a clearly thought-out plan that you are comfortable with.

Remember that the vast majority of the things you prepare for will never happen — but some will, and you can never predict which ones. As the saying goes, forewarned is forearmed. With supplies all in one place and a well thought out plan in your head, you and your flock will be in the best possible position to cope with whatever Fate sends your way.

Now that you have an answer to what does a chicken coop need in case of an emergency, how will you prepare for the unexpected?

Originally published in 2008 and regularly vetted for accuracy.

What Does a Chicken Coop Need in Case of Emergency was originally posted by All About Chickens

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judymusgrove · 7 years

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New Post has been published on Cover To Cover

New Post has been published on http://judysbusinessblog.com/stop-the-website-popups-they-are-aggravating-and-diminishes-your-reputation/

Stop the Website PopUps Before You Lose Your Client!

Stop the Website PopUps!

Website Popups! How annoying this is!

Look, I click on a link because I find your content that I am reading interesting – but nothing is more frustrating then clicking on the link and all of a sudden you are redirected to a page that has your information – a portion of the article comes up – but where do you click to read the entire article?

First you are bombarded with all those friggin website popup ads

Then the annoying website popup (join my email list for great news, tips and tricks) begin – if you happen to sign up for the newsletter you are in for a nightmare.

The nightmare has now come to your inbox – it isn’t a quarterly, monthly, or bi-weekly email – it is a DAILY email that appears – if you are like me, you throw it into spam and forget about it. But that in itself is time consuming.

Last but not least, if you have the patience of a saint – you will figure out where to click to read the rest of the article.

Do you realize how annoying you are to the people that come to your site? I am so turned off at the intrusion, I click off. You have lost me as a potential reader, client and or supporter. What? You think that I can’t read through an article and decide for myself if I want to share the article or follow you on your social media? It is more then obvious that your intent is to SELL me something, not cultivate a relationship and help me to become a long term client.

What happened to being Unique?

Obviously, more people want to follow the crowd because they were told to do things this way. WHY? This is your business, your website, and your reputation on the line. If your intent is to bombard people with useless information, then by all means continue what you are doing.

I choose to be different. I ask this to my clients all of the time, “Why should I buy from you, read your information, showcase your service or product? What makes you different from your competition? Internet marketing is NOT the same as how you were taught to bombard mailboxes with ads, catalogs and junk.

Internet marketing is about:

Your reputation.

It is about your quality of content.

It is all about your personality and how you convey your message.

It is all about building relationships

It is NOT about how many connections you have – you could have 1000 connections (which are just that- connections) or you could have 50 quality customers (connections) that will purchase from you and / or refer you to their friends and family and support you.

Obviously, if I signed up for your newsletter, I saw you had relative content that I am interested in. But I DID NOT sign up to be bombarded with the latest and greatest deal, nor to have my inbox fill up with your vast emails.

Website Popups – they come from everywhere. Website Ads – they take over the entire page – they aren’t strategically placed – nor are they thought out – (for the most part). Popups are also appearing in your browser! How invasive is that? Here are 4 links that will help you disable the popups and ads from your favorite browser:

Click here to see how to clean Chrome of Website Browser Popups

Click here to stop Website Popups from Microsoft Edge

Click here to see the Firefox Information

Stop Website popup ads in Safari

A Few Tips for Website Signups:

If you have a quality newsletter that goes out – state how often the newsletter will appear in your inbox.

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ennaraw52 · 7 years

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What is it like to live in Buenos Aires, Argentina?

My answer to What is it like to live in Buenos Aires, Argentina?

Answer by Enna Morgan:

Twilight envelopes the city, and gives birth to a new ecology

photo: enna morgan

''Sexy, alive and supremely confident, this beautiful city gets under your skin. Like Europe with a melancholic twist, Buenos Aires is unforgettable,'' reads Sandra Bao's article in the Lonely Planet. Well, she is not lying, this bustling metropolis, better known as 'The Paris of the Americas' and dubbed an 'alpha city,' has earned all those pseudonyms. But like every other city, there are some of the not so dazzling truths that don't exactly make the ''top 10 tweets'' list, and many that, though recorded, do not make headline news.

Prior to moving to Buenos Aires, I was bedazzled by the tales of a rich, populous city, steeped in culture and drizzled with romance, theatre and dance. The home of the amorous Argentine tango, and the famous asado. I dreamt of dancing in the street until the early morning, hearing the sound of violins strumming late into the night, and decadent food beckoning from every street corner.

Though some of those images were somewhat realised (the food), the caricatured version and the reality of the untold stories left an impression that as Ms Bao stated, is unforgettable. My experiences in Buenos Aires will forever alter the way I view the country, other people’s reviews of the places they visit, and the word ''romantic.''

As you brush off the suitcase gingerly in preparation for your own escapades in this urban sprawl, here are some little-known realities that can help to ease you into the culture, and help to reduce the frequency of breaking out the inhaler.

It is all colour coded, really!

1. The Argentines are terribly colour conscious. They view the darker-complexed people as either whores of thieves, and they treat them accordingly. And by darker complexed people, I am not referring specifically to African Americans or Africans, I am speaking of��…those who are not light-skinned; it is not a race issue, it is a skin-tone issue.

For instance, if you are dark-skinned and standing in line at a Confeteria (or any other such place), by the time it is your turn to be served, the price of items would automatically increase right before your eyes. Some store owners (Chinese) would even refuse you service, and very often (most prevalent after midnight, and outside of the main city limits), the buses would not stop for you. Additionally you would always find those who would want to make a point of letting you know exactly how they feel (especially if they happen to be feeling slightly inferior due to their lack of command of the English Language). One such example occurred in one of my classrooms.

Among other subjects, I taught Business English, and thus worked in several premiere corporations (names deliberately withheld) around Capital Federal. One morning, in the middle of class, amongst a group of ''well-educated'' professionals (department heads of a well-known international company), we were discussing Brazil’s economy. Out of nowhere (that I could trace) one of the students elected to explain to me the difference between the Brazilians and the Argentines (let's keep in mind that for the 18 months I spent in Buenos Aires, there was never an Argentine who claimed roots from anywhere other than France or Italy; let's also keep in mind that the topic was centered on ''economy'' and nothing anthropological or sociological in nature).

She explained that, ''The Argentines are better because their ancestors are from France and Italy, but the Brazilians, they are…..well……BLACK!'' Well, that certainly cleared up that mystery! I have been thus culturally enlightened, and had to then make notes to myself to reconstruct my prior knowledge of the Brazilian genealogy. Foolish me, I always had it in mind that being colonised by Portugal in 1500AD, then subsequently falling under the Iberian Crown, they would then be descendants of Spain and Portugal, but then what do I know! I was only the dark-skinned Indian girl, after all, no doubt a thief or a whore!….or, (Heavens forbid!) both!

For the first several months that I was there, I had noticed that I was repeatedly the recipient of very hostile stares (they make little effort to hide their distaste), and persistent searching of my bags whenever I enter into a supermarket. On one occasion, after being in the store for about 8 minutes, I was even hauled to the front of one of the Carrefour supermarkets by one of their employees (did not know who she was or why she wanted me to follow her, so I did), accused of stealing and publicly searched.

After the search revealed nothing, the (frustrated) woman (plain clothes security) who made the accusation, admitted that although she had no concrete evidence of me stealing anything, she just wanted to check (she had begun following me around the store from the time I entered), and so finding nothing, she admonished me for being too long in the store. I was by that time in the store only about 15 – 20 minutes (ten of which was consumed in the search).

Many other such incidents followed until I decided to put a stop to it…..in my own signature style. No need for details, let's just say that I established myself, in my immediate surroundings, as a force to (not) reckon with.

Before leaving this topic, I will add that I was one day discussing these phenomena with the laundromat fellow (light-skinned), who I then learned happened to have some dark-skinned relatives; turns out that they too have had to endure similar insults, albeit being native Argentines. He then explained that such discriminatory actions are normal within the Argentinian culture. I guess this acquired human habit of colour discrimination has no geographic boundaries.

Are they sexy or sex-starved?

2. No doubt the Argentines are indeed ''sexy,'' as Ms Bao stated; however, experience suggests that this trait it is not in a pleasingly seductive or sensual way, but instead, in a disgustingly carnal manner.

To illustrate:

Around rush hour (mornings, 7 – 9am, lunchtime, and after work, 4 – 6pm), as is typical with every city that relies on the subway for public transportation, the trains are usually jam-packed. I dreaded the ride, not for the reason that I would be up close and personal with a vast array of beggars, workers, tourists, and proletariats, but for the simple reason that this jam-packed atmosphere presented ample opportunity for the thus inclined men to get their jollies. You see, the train would be so tightly packed that it would preclude any movement of any sort; even breathing would become impossible.

Very often you would find yourself either inhaling the carbon dioxide of your travelling companion, whose nose was lodged half-an- inch in front of yours, or you may feel a solid and disturbing protrusion moving independently in the vicinity of your ass (yes, I said ass – deal with it!). And every move you make to re-adjust yourself to get away from it, would serve only to excite the ''protrusion'' to literally jump with joy. Ugh!

This was such a nauseating experience that it brought me to a point of avoidance. I chose to walk home from Nove de Julio, the junction where I would transfer from the B (red) train to the C (blue) line to get to my home on Avenida Viamonte. Although it was several blocks away, it was more enjoyable than the invasion of the joysticks that would attack from various directions. But, alas, the odium was not limited to the subte.

On one occasion I was on the bus, which was horribly crowded. I was hugging a post since the beginning of the ride, and being deep in thought, I was not quite aware that as the bus progressed along its journey, the crowd had thinned to the point of there being only a few of us left standing.

I became aware of something poking me in the rear, I then turned to discover that even though there was no longer a crowd that would necessitate close body contact, there was a short, unattractive man (that describes half the population) standing behind me, intent on satisfying his (obviously) unfulfilled carnal urges. Needless to say, with some well placed expletives used as adjectives, I suggested that he find another place/ person to disgust, and expressed very clearly where he could stick his tallywacker in the future.

I did a lot more walking since that incident,…….and enjoyed it immensely.

But don’t let the libido effect scare you off, there are things to enjoy in this tropical, asado-loving, dulce de leche-filled cosmopolis.

There was actually a great benefit to being dark-skinned in Buenos Aires. All around me, both night and day the light skinned teachers, and tourists were being robbed daily, but I wasn't. I think that the rationale here was simple: Since the dark-skinned folks were considered thieves or prostitutes, then they would obviously not be worthy of a pickpocketer's time and attention.

I could therefore walk the streets very late at night or early morning (which I did very often after a good salsa or tango), unperturbed. That meant much to me, since one of my primary reasons for being in BA was to learn AT (Argentine tango).

When the fair winds blow

3. After being in Buenos Aires for 18 months, I had to take a serious look at the perception of others, especially when it came to terms like “beautiful” and ''paradise,'' terms often used to describe the Argentinian experience. I have seen the picturesque, colourful photos of San Telmo and La Boca, and have heard the hauntingly romantic stories that surround these places, but the reality is that right beside the beauty and the orgasmic culture, there is the Riachuelo, the stench of which hovers in the air, and causes you to catch your breath like the sudden appearance of a whore in church.

Casually meandering through the city, with constructed walkways like a suburban city park, the Riachuelo ranks number 14 on the list of the 15 most toxic places in the world. And this chemically laden air, a combination of metallurgic, sewage, pesticides, and petroleum is inhaled daily by the 15+ million of inhabitants and visitors who are crammed into the city.

Interestingly ironic, the name of the city and province is Buenos Aires, which literally translates to ''good air,'' or more accurately, ''fair winds,'' but existentially, the city is a living, breathing contradiction. In addition to the atmospheric condition generated by the Riachuelo, the streets sport a constant layer of dog shit, evenly spread through the popular avenidas like peanut butter on hot toast. Now that leaves a lot to ruminate on (pun intended). Picture hot steaming streets, and equally hot, freshly made dog shit. Oh, yeah! You get the picture…..and it is not a pretty one.

My walk home in the evenings (which became increasingly frequent since I wanted to avoid the vulgarity on the train) was literally on a thin carpet of shit. Unlike the USA, there are no lease or pooper laws (maybe I am wrong, and there are, but they are certainly not observed) so the dog owners take their dogs out for a walk, and allow them to relieve themselves in the street.

By the end of the day, the feaces have been properly trampled and distributed by the thousands of pedestrians and it is smoothly smeared all over the street ……then tracked into their homes. Yuk!

Nove de Julio, the widest avenue in the world, spans 14 driving lanes

photo: enna morgan

I resided on Avenida Viamonte & Esmeralda, in the heart of Capital Federal (a few blocks from the famous Florida and Nove de Julio), so the area was always as busy as a queen bee in mating season, with incessant tourists and resident activity. On a hot summer's day, I would observe the tourists as they languidly enjoy their meal in the open air restaurants that line the sidewalk.

And when that good old Buenos Aires wind picked up, it picked up! I mean dust particles, and dessicated fesces that just a few hours ago was smeared thinly across the sidewalk. With the help of the scorching tropical sun, the shit is now nicely dried out and transformed into shit sprinkles. Yum! Lounging insouciantly on my balcony, enjoying this view, I often wondered how many restaurant patrons ever stopped to consider that croutons and black pepper were not the only toppings they were enjoying in their salads!

No charge for the extra topping!

During my 18 month stay in the tango Mecca, needless to say, I rarely dined in restaurants, and I never dined outdoors. And due to the proximity of the Riachuelo, and my knowledge of the fact that it runs right through the city, I never ate fish.

Sunset over Umberto Primo

photo: enna morgan

The poor little rich city.

4. I am not sure if the occurrences that I witnessed in Buenos Aires are reflective of the poverty level left in the wake of this erstwhile boomtown, but I will say that I have visited what are considered to be some very poor countries, and I have not witnessed anything close to the experiences I have had in Buenos Aires.

Household garbage in Buenos Aires is disposed of by setting it in bags and placing those in the street. Just after sundown, everynight, families come out with carts and very often they would gather around a large collection of household or office garbage and proceed to spend the evening gathered around it like Christmas dinner. They would then open all the bags and extract anything they can sell, then place them separately in large garbage bags in their cart.

Even before the sorting takes place, they would gather up the discarded food they had found in the garbage bags and huddle together in a circle, and seated comfortably amidst the stench and piles of rubbish and dog shit, they would feast. No one was exempt, from the infants up to the elderly would partake in this nightly family event.

Families in filth, photo deliberately blurred

photo: enna morgan

After the meal, they would then gather their ‘treasures,’ and move on to another area, to repeat the process, leaving in their wake, the thrashed and scattered rubbish, which, by 9pm, with the assistance of the wind and the incessant passersby, would be evenly distributed along these famous, prized, commonly exalted areas.

By midnight, the garbage collectors would drive around in their trucks and pick up the bags of garbage, after which, the hosers would come out (only in Capital Federal) and wash down the streets, leaving only the large, black, hideous cockroaches to run around, frantically scrambling to track down the scent of the food, of which they were so unceremoniously robbed.

What would Polo do? Would this become a poster shot? Avenida Florida, BA

photo: enna morgan

The next day, en route to work, I would see the clamouring streets filled with exhuberant tourists and ambitious workers, oblivious to the filth and poverty that resides just below the surface, and the strange eco-system that thrives subrosa, and slips in and out with the darkness, like a thief in the night.

And at lunchtime as I pick my way home through the crowded streets, I would smile as tourists and residents alike would brush past me in search of their choiced destination the outdoor cafe. They jostle each other to get ahead, lured by the smell of the savoury empanada and images of a crunchy ensalada as they proceed to bask in the glory of their South American Shangri-La, which they would later digitally transform on Facebook into the envy of their friends and family back home.

At night after I have made my way home without any extra baggage, I would sit at my computer and skim the latest news and stories, that would litter the computer screen like the city’s waste densely punctuating the burgh. The raving reviews would pour in from various parts of the globe, published by the itinerant travellers, who had just returned home and was eager to share their wealth of good news about the ‘good air’ city.

The story content is always the same: the scintillating details of warm summer night in open-air cafes, with a guitar strumming softly above the cafe chatter; decadent desserts soaked in dulce de leche, served by a dreamy Latin lover (you may have noticed that I did not touch on that subject this entire time; that was a deliberate omission; that's a book all by itself) with the looks of Marcus Schenkenberg, the eyes of Ryan Gosling, the savoir faire of James Bond, and the mesmerising baritone of Josh Groban, gliding along the strings of Herb Alpert's 50 guitars.

And as I read the details, I would have to look out my window to remind myself that the glossy, panoramic exotica , with the beautiful sceneries and glowing descriptions that fill the pages on my computer screen are the same pictures of the scenes in the street just below me – the sexy swell of life, love, and laughter, and its faithful accompanying melancholic twist – the train of woe, waste, and wanton.

A woman settles in for the treasure hunt, CBD, Buenos Aires

photo: enna morgan

A man tries to wrap up his collection as the garbage collectors do their job of pick up the scattered remnants

photo: enna morgan

What is it like to live in Buenos Aires, Argentina?

from What is it like to live in Buenos Aires, Argentina?

#What is it like to live in Buenos Aires #Argentina?

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