#i mean has this show ever been full of winners?

[animeshotsh]

Life in heaven | Various x Kid!Reader |

Alternative universe and events - How does kid!reader live in heaven -

Kid!Reader has their memories from their life in earth and hell erased. They only know their name and that they died.

Emily its the one who shows them around, she is soft, friendly and wants to help kid!reader adapt to heaven life. She notices how confused they are so it makes her personal mission to help this soul.

She felt a bump in her heart when they took her hand and called them "big sis" because something in the back of the mind of Kid!reader tells them Emily reminds them of someone.

When showing around heaven Emily ends introducing him to other winners, Kid!Reader has to do a double check in when they notice a pink and white winner....

Emily decides Kid!Reader must meet Saint Peter.

When meeting him Kid!Reader stood there not saying anything, making Peter sweat, Kid!Reader its stuck seeing the blonde hair and light blue eyes.

Next thing they know Kid!Reader has jumped into Peter's arms and huggs him like their afterlife depends on it.

After it, Kid!reader wants to stay at the gates with Peter. No one knows why, and they tell them, they need to rest.

"Then, i will be back tomorrow"

And thats what they do. Its a routine now, when a new winner arrives Kid!Reader its on Peter's shoulders welcoming them. Sometimes Peter has problems fiding the name of the newcomer so kid!reader helps him.

Peter smells like cotton candy and Kid!Reader never tried it before. Peter takes a few hours free to go and enjoy some with Kid!Reader

When walking around heaven Kid!Reader avoid the exterminators, specially one that has no arm and gives them the most cold look ever.

Emily seems to have a sixth sense because she is there to back them up and take them to a safer place.

Emily does not know who kid!reader was in hell, only some high rank angels does, thats the reason they removed their memories and they feel shame for kind of sent a kid to hell when they did mean to go to heaven.

One day Emily tells kid!reader she wants them to meet a centrain newcomer.

Sir.Pentious almost faints when seeing you. But he soons sees that you dont remember a thing and its devasted because of it. He adopts you as his new lil relative. Uses his tail to carry you around, buys you sweet and does go with you to visit Peter.

He also begs that you can live with him (something you accept a full floor was making you feel lonely) and Sir.Pentious its in cloud nine.

The first night he ends cuddling you with his tail. He knows how much you mean to Charlie and the rest, so he is going to protect you and care for you from now on.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Down in hell

Charlie has been depress since you died, Vaggie has tried to cheer her up, to make her continue her dream.

"How can i offer salvation when they killed (Y/N) like they were nothing? They dont care about us"

Lucifer has go back to his castle where he passes his time making ducks, crying and playing the violin. He stares at the photos he took of you and cries more. He cant forgive himself for letting you die.

Alastor its like his old days. Hunting whoever and whatever comes near him. He causes chaos in the city. Decides that he had enough of the stupid TV specially when they show footage of his fight and your death. The empery of the V's its destroyed in one day, and Alastor gets stronger after he consumes their bodies and souls.

No one can mention your name. No one can enter into one of your rooms. They are devasted and broken.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #charlie x reader #sir pentious x reader #Emily x reader

[jamesdeniscouldnever]

Headcanons for Zev and Rolan to tide you all over until I can nail down a plot for the poll winner fic.

How they take care of Tav

🎇Rolan🎇

The grumpy wet cat of a man is a little less grumpy and wet when Tav is tired or hurting.

If they're returning home after a long road full of fights and sleepless nights, Rolan takes a gentle approach.

After making sure they have something to eat and drink in front of them, he's drawing them a hot bath.

If they return with more severe injuries, then God's help Tav.

Scolding and fussing, cursing, and name calling.

He does it out of love, we know this.

Still feeds them and draws them a bath.

Helps remove their armor, all the while tutting and making aggravated comments about "always playing hero" or "can't go a day without a fight" even though tav knows he doesn't mean it.

Once they're in the bath, he sits beside the tub

He'd like to join him, but the tub isn't that big, and when there are two people, his tail gets painfully twisted

He talks them into comfort, what Cal and Lia have been up to, how things are at the tower, and stories about the threw siblings growing up.

Uses his long, glorious nails to really help scrub Tav's hair.

Purposely dumps the water over their head to help rinse without letting them cover their eyes.

Immediately feels bad when they yelp in pain.

Coos and helps rinse it out, pretending be just wasn't thinking.

After the bath wraps them in soft sleeping clothes and puts them to bed (mother hen, who?)

When Tav asks if he's joining them he replies "now now, I've got things to do. You sleep, I'll be back later."

And he does, once Tav is sleeping.

He watches then for a moment before sighing at their bruised Visage and whispering things about "my poor angel'

Curls up behind them, holding them tight.

Tails wrapped around their leg and arms squeezing them.

Falls asleep beside them, holding them like he can protect them from the life they've chosen.

⚜️Zevlor⚜️

Has almost certainly been either on the road with his beloved Tav or staying in their camp

He knows he said he'd like to retire in the city, but once he realized he loved someone who was such a menace to their own health, those plans went right out the window.

Fighting by their side is part of his way of showing care. Watching their back, shielding them from harms way, even if they scold him for it later.

His approach to love and care is so much more obvious than Rolan's.

Constant loving stares and words of affirmation, reverence to the person who dared show him kindness and love that he though he didn't deserve.

And when the day is done and a browbeaten Tav returns to him, he's got a hand on their back or an arm around their waist in an instant, leading them to the fire to eat and relax.

Watches carefully as he makes sure they eat least one full serving of their meal. Tail wagging in pleasure when they do.

Humming old Eltural lullabies while helping them clean up by whatever stream or river is near.

Brushing their hair is his favorite.

Once in their tent, he's pulling blankets over Tav and urging them to sleep. Strokes their hair until they are.

Stays up after they're resting, watching them, watching the camp for danger, enjoying the stars.

When exhaustion finally wins, he's back in the tent, curling up in a protective little ball by their side closer to the tents entrance so if anyone tries to get in they'll trip over him and wake Tav.

If Tav is ever severely injured, Avernus take this man, he is a wreck.

That face he makes when the guy gets shot by goblins in the Grove? That immediately followed by tears and sobs.

Even if it's not life-threatening, he's on this knees at their side and begging them not to go.

The most careful and methodical medical treatment Tav has ever received followed by the most protective and clingy Zev there's ever been.

He insists on doing everything for them now. He won't let them in harms way again.

Just a sad, overprotective, DILF of a paladin who loves his Tav.

#zevlor #bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 zevlor #bg3 rolan #bg3 tav #zevlor x tav #zevlor/tav #rolan x tav #rolan/tav #bg3 headcanons #sad paladin man #angry fussy wizard

[lavendertom]

My Favorite Prize

Mike Schmidt x f!Reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: none! just fluff and fun 🤗

so this is my first time ever writing a fic and posting it, so apologies if it isn’t great and has mistakes, i just felt so drawn to this idea i had to attempt to write it! i hope y’all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

this is kind of an au where nothing bad ever happened to the pizzeria (i’m an optimist if u can’t tell), mike still has the security job there, but it’s all good vibes bc he deserves happiness :’) basically just mike, abby, and reader having a fun day out at freddy’s ☺️

also was written w a female reader in mind, but i don’t think there’s any explicit use of she/her pronouns so do what you will with that

keeping this intro short as possible, but i’ll include another a/n at the end!

——————————————————————————

You would’ve never thought that taking a babysitting job for a neighbor down your street would lead to some of the best memories you’ve ever had. Not to mention it also led to you and Mike, your boyfriend, meeting each other.

Naturally, you spend a lot of time with Mike and especially his sister, Abby, who you’ve been babysitting for about 6 months now. Your bond with her feels like so much more than just being her babysitter, even more so after starting to date Mike. You are always more than happy to do all kinds of activities with her, even if you’re “off the job.” After all, you’re at the house almost everyday now.

“Can we please go to Freddy’s today? I’ve been collecting quarters for months now, I want to use them!” Abby begged as you, her, and Mike finished your breakfast.

“I’m sure your brother doesn’t want to go to work over the weekend, but I can take you if you really want to go.” you said with a smile as you got up to wash off your plate.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t want to join in on this?” Mike asked looking back at you.

“You need a break, Mike.” you answered. “You stay home and rest, Abby and I will go. Plus it’s your job, you don’t want to be thinking about work over the weekend. I don’t mind taking her, trust me.” You often needed to remind him it was okay to stay home and rest. He works his ass off, mostly to provide for Abby, but also because he can’t help but spoil you as well. Even if you didn’t need anything, he still cared too much.

“Please y/n!” Abby shouted from her seat. “Let Mike come too. It will be extra fun then!”

“Yeah, y/n.” Mike said, giving you that look you couldn’t say no to. You looked into those brown eyes, shaking your head smiling.

“Okay, okay,” you responded laughing at the siblings, “let’s go then.”

The three of you piled into Mike’s sedan. On the way there, you and Abby sang some of her favorite Disney tunes, occasionally getting Mike to sing a line or two.

When you arrived, Abby immediately ran up to the stage of three animatronic animals who were singing and dancing. You and Mike followed behind, hand in hand. The pizzeria was full of children playing games, eating pizza, and running around doing whatever kids do.

“I don’t know why she loves those damn robots so much.” Mike said as the two of you walked in. “They’re creepy.”

“I think it’s cute.” you replied. “I think it’d be fun to hang out with them sometime, you know? Like, play arcade games with them, eat some pizza. I mean, you practically have a sleepover with them every night, Mike.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to be their guardian every night.” he said sarcastically.

“I don’t buy it, you love them.” you responded, squeezing his hand. He gave you a dramatic eye roll and you couldn’t help but giggle at him. You finally caught up to Abby, finding the girl still in awe of the animatronic show. “Alright Abby, what are we doing first?”

The girl thought for a moment, until her eyes lit up and that mischievous little smirk she makes was on her face. “Skee ball competition.”

“What does the winner get?” Mike asked.

“If I win, you have to get me ice cream for dessert.” She replied confidently. She always knew what she wanted, and she was gonna get it no matter what.

“And what if I win?” you asked.

“Then Mike has to get you a prize.” She replied grinning at the two of you.

“Why’s it always me who has to pay the price?” he asked. Abby already began skipping towards the arcade games.

“You’re the one who asked.” you replied giving him a shrug. “And by the way, I’m so winning this.”

“Yeah?” he asked smirking as the two of you followed Abby. “What if I win? What do I get?”

“I guess something can be arranged if you win.”

“Well you better start thinking of something because there won’t be an ‘if I win’, just a when I win.”

The three of you found the skee ball games, each picking a lane to play on. You all agreed whoever had the most points after three rounds of playing was the winner. Abby decided she would count down before shouting “go!” and the game was on. Surprisingly, Abby did very well, and the game ended with a win for Abby, and a draw between you and Mike for second place.

“I win!” Abby shouted jumping up and down before giving Mike a hug. “Now you have to get me ice cream for dessert!” You couldn’t help but smile at the two, their bond was unlike any other.

“Okay, okay, Abby!” he said with a laugh as Abby pulled away from him. “But before that, it looks like y/n and I have a tie to break.”

“Oh, we’re doing this now huh?” you said, crossing your arms. “You can’t stand a draw?”

“I was told there would be prizes and I am not letting my efforts go to waste.”

“Okay, fine, best of three wins.” You grabbed a handful of quarters out of the cup sitting on edge of the game.

“Ready to lose, sweetheart?”

What he didn’t realize was Abby slowly making her way towards your skee ball lane, silently noting she was on your side.

“Don’t get so ahead of yourself, babe.” you said with a playful scoff. What ensued after was the best mix of chaos and fun.

You and Abby were both trying to throw as many balls as you could in the somewhat small skee ball lane. The two of you were laughing at how terribly it ended up working out. Mike finally realized the team you two had formed to which he kept playfully shoving the balls out of your hands, while somehow still maintaining control of his own with his other hand. By the end, you were so out of breath from not only playing the competitive game, but laughing at the madness that occurred.

“I can’t believe you let Mike win, y/n!” Abby said, sounding more upset than she should’ve been.

“I would never let your brother purposely beat me at a game of skee ball.” you said, still out of breath. “He sabotaged the game!” you shouted, giving him a knowing look while pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I believe I deserve some sort of prize for my victory.” he responded smirking as he stood looking at you with his arms crossed.

You finally caught your breath as you looked into his brown eyes, then down to his lips which still held the small smirk. You walked closer to him, putting your hands on his shoulders as you stood on your tip toes to place a soft, small kiss on his lips. He put his hands around your waist, pulling you in just a bit. You could feel him smile, and you did too, letting out a small laugh.

“I’m still here you know.” Abby said, making you both turn to face her, still standing by the skee ball lane. She wasn’t the biggest fan of the two of you showing affection, but you knew deep down it made her happy. After all, she was the one who got you guys to realize your feelings for each other. “So am I getting my ice cream or not?”

“How could I forget.” Mike said sarcastically to his sister, giving her a small smile. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you stood next to him. “Does pizza sound good for dinner?”

“Of course, but don’t you dare forget her ice cream. She’s scary when she gets mad.” you said that last part in a whisper just loud enough for Abby to hear.

“Hey!” she shouted, knowing you guys were messing with her.

“Believe me, I know.” Mike said, ruffling his sister’s hair as they all made their way to the dining room.

The three of you enjoyed a delicious pizza dinner at Freddy Fazbear’s, making sure not to forget Abby’s ice cream she so rightfully earned. Before you left for home, Abby traded in some of her tickets for prizes at the prize counter. She ended up choosing a Bonnie plushie and a little Freddy keychain. She had been working towards collecting all of the Fazbear plushies, having just a few more left to complete the collection.

“Today was so fun!” Abby squealed as the three of you left, her Bonnie plush in hand.

“It was pretty fun.” you said smiling, taking in the final sights, sounds, and smells of the pizzeria as you walked out the doors. The three of you somehow ended up spending most of the day there, continuing to play games and eat tons of pizza.

“You know what, I think we should do this more often.” Mike chimed in.

“Really?” you said, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. I know it’s technically work, but this was really fun. Thanks for letting me tag along, y/n.” he held onto your hand again.

“Don’t just thank me, Abby was the one who really convinced me to let you join us.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe.” he said while bumping his shoulder into yours.

“Fine, you’re kinda fun too I guess.”

“Just kinda?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe a little more than kinda.” you admitted. He placed a kiss on the top of your head as you reached his car.

“Y/n?” Abby asked.

“Yes Abby?” you replied.

She took the Freddy keychain out of her pocket, handing it to you. “This is for you, since you never got a prize for winning skee ball. And because you’re my favorite.”

You nearly teared up at the gesture. A huge smile had come across your face.

“Abby, you are too sweet. Thank you.” you said as you held the small keychain in your hand, giving her a hug.

At the last second you decided to pull Mike into your hug, savoring every moment of having your two favorite people right by your side. “You guys are my favorite prize.”

——————————————————————————

A/N

i hope y’all enjoyed :) depending how well this is received i may consider writing more for mike and whatnot. hopefully it didn’t feel too long, once i start writing i can’t really stop myself. don’t be afraid to lmk ur thoughts in the comments!

i thought we needed more of these kinds of fics for those of us who had our inner child healed from the fnaf movie. these r my fav kind of fics and there just isn’t enough of them 🫶

if ur one to listen to music while reading, i recommend the first 4 songs off of Mylo Xyloto by coldplay. that’s exactly what went thru my mind while writing. 🤗

#fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy’s movie #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #abby schmidt #mike schmidt x y/n #michael schmidt

[thisismeracing]

CHARLES LECLERC MASTERLIST

✦ CHARLES LECLERC ▶ CL16

All my Charles posts here

▸ main masterlist | patreon guide ▸ taglist ▸ who I write for & guidelines ▸ subscribe to Patreon for exclusive content ▸ tip me on ko-fi

KEYS: s: smut f: fluff a: angst ✷: Patreon exclusive

― ✦ SOCIAL MEDIA AU

this is the last time I ever call you babe (a): It’s been a little over a year since Y/n and Charles Leclerc ended their relationship, and Y/n went radio silent from everywhere…until the Grand Prix day. They say revenge is a dish better served cold, right?

everything has changed (f): Y/n, a famous singer, drops a song that is more like a letter confessing her feelings, and some fans are convinced it’s about F1 golden boy Charles Leclerc.

his pretty girl (f) : Fans start to notice Charles around an influencer’s profile and it's easy to put two and two together to discover just how in love he is.

match winners (f): After mentioning in an interview that she roots for Charles Leclerc, Yn is surprised with a new follower who happens to show up at one of her tennis matches.

sunshine (f): In which Charles starts dating an earthy/spiritual girl who just loves nature and good energy.

my boyfriend Marc (f): In which Yn always refers to her secret boyfriend as Marc and fans take forever to put the pieces together and realize that many of the names she used were actually Charles Leclerc’s middle names.

his protector (f): Yn is a comedian, who happens to date the f1 driver Charles Leclerc and who loves to joke around about how horrendous Ferrari is, but beware: she is the only one who can laugh at her boyfriend’s disastrous races. No one pokes fun at Charles in front of her, especially not on live TV.

all because I liked a boy (a): Yn fell in love with Charles and secretly dated him for almost a year. She didn’t consider, however, how fans would react seeing they used to love and still stan Charles’ past relationship. What happens when their hidden love gets out in the open? ● part 2 here

just like in the movies (f): You’re shooting a new movie about racing cars, but you did not expect to get a racing heart from a certain driver. Or the one where they met at a racing track and fell in love.

king of manifesting (f): You’ve been secretly dating Charles for a while, but fans can’t believe it when the rumors start to go around. What do you mean a vroom-vroom Ferrari guy is dating their idol?

a real goal getter (f): When fans see Charles at one of your soccer matches, they start speculating what he is doing at a stadium he’s never been to, talking to a guy he never talked with (who happens to be your best friend). When they discover you’re together, they agree you’re the best player, but Charles is the goal scorer for landing someone as amazing as you. 

― ✦ BLURBS

you betrayed me (a)

Overprotective bf (f)

― ✦ REGULAR IMAGINES

honeymoon stunts (s): Charles and Yn just got married, and although they know too much about one another, there’s always something new to discover together, such as Charles’ new breeding kink.

the (un)lucky one (f): Charles and Yn have a history back from when he was at alfa romeo, Yn used to be his PR assistant, and they were close to best friends. Now, years later, they are still friends, but Yn is Carlos’ assistant now, and she can help but root for her new friend and boss. Meanwhile, Charles is having trouble with no longer having her undying support all the time. He’s been through an unlucky season on the speedway, will he be unlucky in love too? 

anything you want (s)✷: After getting hit by a wave of bad luck, Yn takes matters into her own hands to make her boyfriend feel a bit better about his situation. Sometimes all you need to feel brand new is a two-day vacation full of sex by the fire and words of affirmation.

love bites (a)✷: It is believed that during the Halloween season, cursed souls and entities come out to play. As it happens, some of them can come uninvited, but things get a lot easier for the dark side when people like Yn are challenged by her friends to go beyond the safety of the town and into the woods looking for a cursed church. One wouldn’t want to be near to witness humans discover history they’re not supposed to.

charlieverse (f): When Yn decided to go to a Halloween party with her best friend, Charles Leclerc, she did not consider that some of the fantasies would be so close to reality that they would terrify her. But one thing Yn had no idea about too, was Charles’ feelings for her. All Hallow’s Eve is not the most romantic scenario to confess your feelings, but it might be just the perfect one for them.

― ✦ HEADCANONS

♡ charles dating a korean girl

©thisismeracing do not copy, steal, or translate my work. do not repost on a different media platform.

#cl16 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 fandom #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #op: masterlists

[redwinetalks]

I Won’t Let You Sink

Chapter 1

Word Count: 4k

Pairing: Finnick x Fem!OC

Warnings: angst, thoughts of some self harm, miss girl has to sell her body

Summary: Silk Fabelle is the winner of the 68th annual Hunger Games and she’s finishing up her victory tour. She meets Finnick then returns home leading to a lil chit chat with Snow.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

The Capitol was the complete opposite of District 8. Full of bright colors and energy instead of dull and lifeless. Everything is perfectly placed and decorated. Artistically groomed trees and bushes. The Capitol elite expect me to think of this as a blessing. How much of an honor it is to get to visit. To be invited to these lavish parties and be dressed to the nines. But with each conversation I’m dragged into, I’m counting the seconds until I can go home and no longer be stuck with the people who use my trauma as a way to get off.

“Did you hear me?” I’m snapped back to reality by the woman who’s been speaking to me about my victory. Her blue and purple hair is tied up in an intricate bun. Her eyeshadow goes all the way to her temples and her eyebrows are adorned with jewels. To match her eccentric look, she’s wearing a bright purple gown that cinches her waist so much I wonder how she’s even breathing.

“Yes, sorry. I couldn’t help getting distracted by how beautiful everything looks tonight.”

“Oh, of course! I can’t even imagine having to live in that dreary district of yours. This must be such a culture shock. But, back to what I was saying. Your games! You really surprised us all. I mean, no one guessed that the little girl from 8 could win. A lot of people lost their bets after your victory. Don’t worry though, no one could stay upset about it. Not with how precious you are! You really are a doll just like they say!” A doll. That’s the pet name they’ve adorned me with. The Capitol’s doll they could dress up and play with however they so please.

“You’re going to be quite popular! But I must leave you, I need to get a little drink.” She gives me a wink and walks away. Im sure she’s off to purge and then continue to gorge herself.

When she’s gone I close my eyes and let out the deep sigh I’ve been holding. With each Capitol aristocrat I talk to I feel more and more suffocated. I grab a glass of wine and then move myself away from the crowd. This party is supposed to be dedicated to me to congratulate my huge “victory”. No one expected me to win. District 8 has a pretty poor relationship with the Capitol because of our rebelliousness. This kept me from getting any help from sponsors. It also didn’t help that I don’t look very strong, I’m shorter than most people my age, and the jobs back home don’t prepare us in the slightest for what’s to come in the arena. That’s not all true, though. I gained enough strength by carrying large amounts of supplies to and from the factories. Boxes full of fabric or Peacekeeper uniforms are much heavier than people think. I used my knowledge of different bugs and berries, used to make dyes, to help me keep from poisoning myself in the arena. My mentor Cecilia told me since I know how to sew, stitch, and weave that I have a good eye and a steady hand. She taught me how to make traps that I could use against other tributes or to catch food. She helped me learn how to use throwing knives, her weapon of choice. That proved to be significantly helpful during the bloodbath. The majority of my games I spent hiding. My arena was a rainforest so it wasn’t difficult to disguise myself. I was then able to trick some tributes with poisonous berries or trapping them in a net made up of vines and leaves. I’m sure it was a riveting show for everyone glued to the broadcast. Not at all traumatizing for them, only for the 17 year old.

“Not enjoying the festivities?” I’m slightly startled when he comes up and stands next to me. Finnick O’dair. The so called Capitol “darling” and youngest to ever win the games. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. Didn’t meant to catch you off guard.” He laughs.

“And what if I’m not?” I sip my wine and look at him, deadpanned.

“Don’t worry, it only gets worse from here.” He lets out a another light laugh and I hum in response.

“Thanks for the warning. I figured as much.” I think about walking away, but there’s something about him that compels me to stay put. It’s disarming. I don’t figure a Career would be too enjoyable to hang around, yet he has this air to him that I can’t walk away from. Maybe it’s how his tan skin and perfect smile are even more breathtaking in person. I could just be getting hypnotized by his beauty and charm. Which, I’m positive he uses to his advantage. He then turns to face directly in front of me and holds his hand out.

“If you’ll let me, I was hoping I could steal you away for a dance.” He takes my hand and gives it a small peck as I just look at him. I raise my eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you trying to charm me, Finnick O’dair?” He flashes me a perfect smile.

“And what if I am, Silk Fabelle?” He moves his face closer to mine and his voice, as smooth as velvet, is just a whisper. He smells like salty seawater and citrus. The hair on my neck stands up and I can feel the goosebumps creeping up my body. Maybe I am being hypnotized.

“I suppose you can. Hopefully it’ll keep everyone else from talking to me about my riveting games.” I say after clearing my throat and awkwardly adjusting my stance.

“You sure you’re not trying to keep me all to yourself, darling?” I stop and blankly stare at him. He rolls his eyes at me, “I’m kidding. Shall we?” I slowly nod and he escorts me back through the crowd of people.

“So is there a particular reason you decided to make my acquaintance?” I question him. No other previous victors have come to talk with me, at least not yet. It’s just been one vulture after the next. Maybe in his eyes he just saw a damsel in distress that he needed to rescue. He wouldn’t be incorrect per se.

“Maybe I just wanted to finally see your beauty in person. The broadcast is one thing, but there’s nothing like the real deal.” He says when we find a spot on the floor. He takes my waist and gracefully starts to guide me. It’s as if it’s second nature to him. I don’t know how to feel about his flirtations and it makes me a bit uneasy. I don’t know if I can trust him, but I’m not in the games anymore. He’s not another tribute trying to kill me before I kill him first. It sounds like he means what he says, so maybe I’m just overthinking it.

“You sure are quite the charmer, but I’m having a hard time believing that’s the only reason.”

“Oh please, I can’t just dance with a pretty girl? Must I have a motive?” I can feel his thumb rubbing my back. That plus the dancing is making me dizzy. My head feels like it’s spinning, but it could just be the wine causing that effect.

“Do you?” I press him, trying to remain focused, and he looks at me so softly.

“I just thought you might’ve been struggling to stay afloat. This place..these people..they’ll drown you. To them we aren’t real people we’re just toys. Entertainment. I remember how I felt when this was my party and I guess I just didn’t want you to have to go through that alone.” The playful banter has dropped and he speaks so genuinely. He’s not at all what I expected. I’ve only ever looked at careers with aversion. The way they suck up to the Capitol and get almost doted on in return. But they’re still district citizens. Even if they are on better terms with the Capitol, it doesn’t mean they aren’t part of this continuous punishment. They’re pawns in this game like everyone else, they just play differently.

“So you’re telling me no one whisked you away to save you at your victory party” I tilt my head when asking.

“Afraid not, sweetheart.” Even with his flirtatious banter back on I can see that there’s a sadness in his eyes. Like this confidence that he radiates is just an illusion to keep him from sinking. After winning the games they make you think you finally get to be free. You can finally be happy and you don’t have to live in fear. But the games never end. I can see it from the way Finnick looks at me. After you win the torment just continues. There is no freedom.

“I’m sorry you were alone. I appreciate, though, you being here for me even though you don’t know me. I hope..maybe..I can do the same for you.” I say that last sentence quietly. As if I’m not sure if I want him to hear it. I’m not quite sure if I mean it. He squeezes my hand a bit and softly smiles. His dimples showing only slightly.

“I can already see my days getting brighter.” He releases my waist once the song ends and brushes a hand through his golden blonde hair. The lights reflecting off of him in the most picture perfect way. “Unfortunately, I have to go, but it was lovely meeting you Silk.” He kisses my hand once more and walks away after I say goodbye. I’m left feeling frozen in place like a trance has just been lifted. Then, almost immediately I’m being pulled into another meaningless conversation with Capitol citizens. I try to stay present to what’s going on around me, but my mind keeps going back to Finnick O’dair.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

I’m on the train with Cecilia, finally going home after the victory tour. I’ve been sitting at the table moving my fork around my breakfast, too distracted to eat. I haven’t been able to push Finnick out of my mind. There is just something about him that is so alluring and mysterious that my teeth clench from trying to figure him out. I can’t help getting frustrated at myself for thinking only of him. Maybe it’s just because he’s so different from anyone I’ve ever met. His aura is so captivating and it’s like he knows just how to wrap you around his finger.

“How was last night?” Cecilia comes up behind me and takes my plate.

“I wasn’t finished.” I turn and look at her and she rolls her eyes.

“You’ve been pushing that blueberry around with your fork for 10 minutes. You’re finished.” Annoyingly, she’s right. I’m not even hungry anymore. I felt full after just a couple bites. I’ve only been able to eat small meals since leaving the arena.

“Last night was wonderful” she lets out a small laugh at my sarcastic reply.

“Did you meet any of the past victors? It’ll help having some of them close by.” I look down at the table where my plate was.

“I met Chaff and Seeder. They were nice, well, Chaff was a bit..overly friendly..but Seeder was kind. I was told Haymitch would be an ass, but I thought he was alright. Maybe just a bit abrasive.” I shrug. Cecilia hums in response while tapping her fingers on the table. I slightly glance up at her and she looks off and smiles.

“You seem to be leaving a certain person out.” I just look at her. “He’s much more genuine than people give him credit for. You should continue to get to know him. You’re still making allies you know, it doesn’t matter that you’re no longer in the arena.” I nod and turn to look out the window.

The only good thing about being on this train for so long is that I can look at all the trees. I can get lost in them. It brings me some sense of peace with my thoughts being so loud. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to normal. How I’m supposed to just go home and move on. How am I supposed to sleep peacefully each night when there are kids that are dead because of me? I’m not. That’s exactly the point. I’m supposed to feel like my insides are eating me alive and have these nightmares. That’s how Snow wants us to feel. He knows that the games will leave you forever traumatized and he loves it. He’s sick and cruel and twisted.

My nails have drawn blood on my arm from gripping myself so tightly. When I get up to grab a napkin, I realize we’re arriving at District 8. I thought I’d be excited to be home but I just feel numb. Nothing is going to be the same and it terrifies me.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

“You’re home” My mother says so softly. She runs up to me and wraps me in a tight hug when I walk into our new house in Victor’s Village. She cradles my head and rubs my back. The comfort she brings me is instant and I feel like I could collapse into her arms. Maybe I will be okay as long as she’s with me.

For my whole life I’ve only had my mother. I don’t remember my dad. He died when I was very young, but I’ve never felt like something was missing without him. I don’t feel his absence. When my father was 16 his older brother was reaped into the games and his death was so painful, that he swore to never have kids. He didn’t want to bring a child into a world where they could be put through something so heinous and vile, but he met my mother and accidents happen. My mother was anxious of course, but she still wanted to have me. She told me that when she realized she was pregnant with me, my father changed. Like some switch had been flipped. He became a completely different person. He was no longer kind, he drank, and he would have these sudden fits of rage. Mom tried to stay with him. To see if he would go back to the way he was. To see if he was just processing everything in some excessively horrible way, but he only got worse when I was born. So she kicked him out. When I was a bit older she told me that he had been shot by a Peacekeeper for some drunken altercation just days later.

My father didn’t want me and I don’t need him. I don’t feel his absence. All I feel is the love and protection that my mother has given me since I was born. She has never made me feel unwanted or like a burden. She is the strongest person I know and means more to me than anything in this world. If it wasn’t for her, I know I wouldn’t have gotten out of that arena.

“I missed you” I muffle into her shoulder. She puts her hands on my face and moves me to look directly at her.

“I missed you, too, my beautiful girl.” She then kisses me on the forehead, “Come with me. I want to show you want I’ve done with the place and then we’ll eat dinner.” She ushers me around the house showing me the different curtains and blankets she’s made. Most of the blankets she knit in our old home while I was in the arena. She told me that was the only thing she could do to keep from losing herself. While I was on my victory tour she sewed the curtains and a new bedspread for me. It’s a beautiful plum color and it makes the room much more cozy and inviting. Mom and I always try our best to make our home full of color to contrast how grey the district is. That way whenever we get home from a long day in the factories it’s an immediate breath of fresh air. We can almost instantly feel the dread of the day lift off our shoulders.

“You seemed to keep yourself busy” I say as she shows me the pillows in the living room.

“What else was I supposed to do to pass the time?” I laugh and smile so lovingly at her. It’s the first time I’ve been happy since getting reaped. I feel an overwhelming amount of relief that I never thought I’d get.

When she’s finished with the tour I follow her into the kitchen and sit at the table. We eat in a comfortable silence. Mom has always known whether I wanted to talk or not. She never tries to pry unless she knows it’ll help. It’s the first time in the while no one has expected anything of me.

A few days pass and I finally start to get a routine going. My mom goes off to work, thankfully not in the Peacekeeper factory, a different one where she makes an assortment of clothing and I start my morning by going just past the border to the shoreline. It’s the only place where grass grows since it’s far away from all the industrial fumes. I like to sit on the rocky beach and listen to the waves. I bring my sketchbook to work on designing clothes to make for the school children since I have the money to now. It’s something to do to keep me busy and help me feel like I’m doing something to help our community.

The walk home is long, but peaceful. I say hello to those moving on from one job to the next. One of the worst things that the Capitol does do the citizens in 8 is make everyone work long, grueling hours. When school lets out for the day the kids don’t get to go home and play. If there’s free time it means there’s time to work. Our labor is exploited and it’s unforgivable.

When I walk into the house it feels wrong. The air isn’t peaceful, it’s unsettling. It’s smells sickly sweet like roses. Everything seems to be in order, but the door to the study is ajar. I put down my bag and slowly walk through the hall making my way to the open door.

“There’s no need to sneak around in your own home. Please, come join me.” His voice is ice cold and it sends shivers up my spine.

“President Snow” I stiffly walk inside the study, “I apologize. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be home.” He’s sitting at the desk that hasn’t been touched since we moved it.

“Sit, I have some matters to discuss with you.” He gestures to the chair on the other side of the desk and I sit down, “I hope you enjoyed your victory tour.”

“Yes, sir. I did.” I clear my throat my uncomfortably and cross my arms to try and ground myself. I attempt to keep myself from digging my nails into my skin.

“Good, I’m pleased to hear that. I’ve heard lovely things about you. You’re well liked. Many of my colleagues have taken an interest towards you.”

“An interest, sir?” A pit opens in my stomach.

“Yes, Miss Fabelle. A sizable interest, in fact. And this is something that I cannot ignore. You see, these are the kinds of colleagues that sponsor the games and events such as your victory party.” He says as if it’s something I even wanted. He stands and starts to pace around the desk. The overwhelming smell of roses wafts back and forth with each turn. I can feel the nausea starting to grow. “The desire for you has grown quite large and I would hate to disappoint. I understand where they’re coming from. You are indeed a beautiful young woman. So, will you cooperate?” I could’ve gagged right then. He hasn’t said it outright, but I understand him clearly. These people want me. They want my body. His sinister smile grows when he notices how much I’m gripping onto my arms.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” I say looking down at my lap. I know I don’t, but a small part of me hopes that if I ask he won’t make me. But that’s just a silly dream. To believe that I could have a choice in any of this. My body isn’t mine. My life isn’t mine. It all belongs to him.

“Of course you have a choice, Miss Fabelle.” He sits back down and my head shoots up to look him in the eye. “But certain choices have consequences. And it would be very unfortunate for perhaps, your mother, to deal with the consequences of your actions.” He sits back down, clearly satisfied with how this talk is going.

The nausea is only getting worse. My mother. He would kill my mother. The only person I have. The only person that I love. Not only is she important to me, she’s important to this district. She’s always been a strong force in the community. She helps those in need in any way she can. She stands up for what she believes in. She’s part of the rebellion that may or may not even come. If something were to happen to her it would end me, but it would also impact so many of those around me. I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen to her.

“I understand, sir.” I speak so softly, so defeated.

“Good, I’m very pleased.” He stands up to leave, but not before leaving the flower from his coat pocket on the desk. I walk with him to the front door, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall, and he takes a small look around the space. “Thank you for meeting with me, Miss Fabelle. I hope you are enjoying your new home. You seem to have settled right in. It’s very…eclectic. Oh, and I almost forgot to congratulate you on your victory. You did very well. Until next time.” He smiles so sickeningly and then finally leaves. How kind of him to congratulate me. As if him being proud would somehow fill me with such joy and satisfaction.

The nausea finally hits me with full force and I run to the bathroom to empty the contents in my stomach. The smell of stale roses still fills the air and it continues to make me gag. Once I feel well enough to get up, I brush my teeth and head to my room. I don’t even make it to my bed before I collapse, my sobbing overtaking my body. I feel so disgusting. How can this be allowed? How can they force me to kill other people’s children and then this? Is this what they think freedom is? I don’t have to worry about dying anymore, but I have to sell my body. And if I don’t, I have to fear for the life of the person I love most in the world? How am I supposed to do something so vile? How am I supposed to continue to survive like this? I feel like ripping my hair out. Like scratching at my skin until there’s nothing left but bone.

I rush into my bathroom and run a cold shower. I have to calm down. I have to find a way to live with this and keep my mother oblivious. The only way I know how to do that right now is by washing this whole afternoon off of me. Pretending none of it happened. And that’s what I’ll continue to do. When the time comes for me to visit the Capitol again, I’ll just pretend none of it is real. It’s all a dream. A sick, twisted, horrifying dream. And I’ll just have to go from there.

*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°

Thank you so much for reading chapter 1! This is my first ever fanfiction that I’ve written so I know it’s far from perfect. I’m growing with my writing as I go, but I hope you still enjoy it! I appreciate any kind feedback!

tag list <3 (I tagged some of y'all who just liked the related posts so I hope thats okay)

@ghoulbabs @lusy98 @marvelescvpe @simplymurdock @marcyss @miserablebl00d @wife-of-all-dilfs @mrsnancywheeler

Next Chapter!

#finnick x oc #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #hunger games #mockingjay #thg finnick #thg series #finnick o’dair #finnick x you #hunger games finnick #finnick fanfic #catching fire #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #thg fanfiction #thg fic #thg #district 8 #district 4 #the hunger games #oc fanfiction #original character #headcanon #thg headcanons #thg oc #I Won’t Let You Sink #IWLYS

[hannahlovesluca]

im so sorry ik ur request are full so please take ur time (also i saw you where in the hospital?? i hope feel better and pls rest up)

but uhm after i got that matchup when sonny he’s been on my mind all day so can i pls request sonny bf headcanons 💁🏿‍♀️

ily! and you better be taking care of yourself or ima have to get involved 🤨🤨

Sonny Brisko as a boyfriend…

• okay so sonny is like such a calm boy but at the same time hes so chaotic

• i mean… did you see his whole ‘krill’ skit…

• but uh anyways

• he probably has you on for a lot of collabs if you’re a streamer (niji or not) because like half the time he doesn’t even know what to stream

• also w the amount of totsu’s he does you’re probably on like… a lot

• esp if you’re in the same time zone… or if your ss is fucked like mine (it is 2:20 in the afternoon and i woke up like ten minutes ago..)

• anyway

• i imagine you’ll probably either have like deep philosophical convos either on stream or in hangout vc or it’ll literally be about whos sexier paul blart vs jack black (obviously you’re the winner like wth)

• anyway he probably wants to call you super cute pet names but he cringes everytime he does so he tries not to (like baby, etc)

• will most definitely plan a lot of trips to see you if you don’t live in australia

• which inevitably leads to off collabs

• which leads to lots and lots of affection

• just like with the pet name thing he wants to show you affection he just gets so embarrassed but once he learns not to he definitely shows his love more for you <33

• he does the thumb stroke thingy whenever you’re holding hands. hes not even aware that he does its just a habit. god i love him

• his voice is so good <3 he knows he has a decent singing voice but he wouldnt ever praise himself for it. however, hes confident enough that he’ll probably sing you to sleep if you’re having trouble

AHHHH I LOVE SONNY MY MAN BRISKO

#luca kaneshiro #ike eveland #luxiem #luxiem x reader #shu yamino #mysta rias #vox akuma #nijisanji en #luca kaneshiro x reader #ike eveland x reader #sonny brisko

[snarkesthour]

United By Music Hatred Of The Jury  

Eurovision has been dogged by allegations of cheating, corruption, bad judging calls, and hatred of the jury for many years. This year brought that to a head with Sweden’s win over the public favourite Finland, in an allocation of points that shocked Europe.

Sweden received only 243 points from the public vote, without a single “douze points” from any country. Finland received 376 votes from the public, the second highest amount ever, including the coveted 12 points from eighteen different nation-states. How, then, did Sweden manage to win? Finland was only awarded 150 points by the professional jury, while Sweden was given 340, sailing their singer Loreen, a previous Eurovision winner, to victory.

Understandably, people are upset.

One reason that Finns have said it hurt to lose to Sweden is due to their history. Finland was colonised by Sweden for over 600 years, after Sweden annexed them (a long process lasting between the 1150s and 1350s at least). Sweden is still seen as superior in a number of ways. The Finnish language is often considered weird and ugly. Käärijä, the singer representing Finland, went to Eurovision to prove that a song sung in Finnish could win.

The professional jury clearly shows bias against songs sung in native and minority languages and not English. Time and time again, they vote for the most generic pop songs instead of performances laced with languages and culture from the performing countries. Last year in 2022, France sent a song in Breton, a language with a long history of oppression in France, with Celtic iconography. They received only 9 points from the jury. Meanwhile, audiences enjoyed the performance, and were happy that France finally sent something other than a modern chanson song, French audiences included. Keiino included aspects of Sami culture and language in their song in 2019, and lost out to the Netherlands, falling several places due to the jury vote. The Eurovision Song Contest exists to showcase and celebrate the full cultural richness of the competing countries, and it is wholly wrong for the jury to penalise that.

This argument is unhelped by those that often complain about the amount of Anglophone pop songs, yet then vote for the same due to loyalty, or the attractiveness of the singer, or politics. There is nothing wrong with voting for an English language pop song if you think it is the best song that year, but one way to help these non-English language songs is to allocate them a smaller amount of votes and save the rest for your favourite. This way these countries know that other people did enjoy their performances, and that they would like to see more of the same.

During its occupation by Sweden, Swedish became the dominant language in Finland, spoken by the upper class, administration, and education. It was only under Russian rule that the Finnish language started to gain traction and recognition, finally achieving equal status as Swedish legally in 1892. This is part of why it was so important to Finns to have a winning song sung in Finnish, their only previous win being in English. To show that their language is not rough and ugly sounding, and to demonstrate what it means to sing in your native language. The crowd sang along to Käärijä’s performance in Finnish; people who are not Finnish and have never spoken a word of Finnish. I cannot imagine that feeling. Käärijä also performed topless, with a perfectly normal body, unlike the heavily chiselled bodies favoured by Hollywood, which are, only produced by extreme diets, workout regimes, and dangerous levels of dehydration. It is no surprise he became a national treasure. Finland redecorated statues and had green shrines in their libraries and supermarkets. The country was so excited. Then they lost to Sweden over the jury vote.

Norway got the third highest votes this year from the public. They also won the televoting in 2019 too, but lost because of the professional jury votes that propelled Netherlands to the win. It was said that Norway may have had some voice trouble during the finals week, including her jury performance. The BBC praised her jury performance, but Swedish newspapers allegedly said it was very rough, and that she missed nearly every note.

The professional jury doesn’t judge the same Grand Final performance that everyone else sees. The jury judges the final jury performance, a separate show where the public is not allowed and only press accredited people can attend. Performers will obviously give it their best, but that does not guarantee it will be their best performance. It is also reasonable to assume that some singers might have a lower energy performance during the jury performance due to exhaustion, or in order to save up for the grand final, among other possibilities.

It is clear that everyone needs to be voting on the same show – anything else is just blatantly unfair. Votes cannot be accurately distributed if people are voting on two different shows.

If the juries are unbiased, we have a huge problem. Even if Finland got 12 points from everyone voting in the grand final, they would have only scraped a win with 11 points. They scored the second highest votes in Eurovision history, second only to Ukraine last year, a win that itself was mired in allegations of cheating and corruption. And yet Finland still lost.

The weighting of the votes is undoubtedly tilted towards the jury. As mentioned earlier, Finland received the second highest amount of televotes in Eurovision history, and won the public vote, yet lost to Sweden based on the professional jury. This is a kick in the face to members of the public that watched and voted. It sends a clear message that the public and their opinion clearly does not matter at all and they might as well have not voted. The public pay for Eurovision, the public stream and download and buy the songs, and as such, the publics vote should count, otherwise why bother? Why have a competition?

As it stands right now, the Eurovision Song Contest is essentially voted on like a US Presidential Election. The professional jury vote is essentially the Electoral College, capable of snatching the victory from the clear public winner that secured the majority of public votes. If we are going to complain about this system being used for American elections, then there is no reason that it should be acceptable here.

One way to fix this is to change the weighting of the jury versus public votes. The professional jury was established to prevent nations from simply voting for their neighbours or allies, yet it is remarkable how often the professional juries’ votes reflect these politics anyway. A 30/70 split to the public votes will allow the jury to make clear who they think should win while also not holding enough sway to alter the public results.

An overhaul also needs to be made to the professional jury itself. It is no secret that corruption is present within Eurovision. Keeping the names of the jury secret to prevent this from happening is only going to make it impossible to know when it has happened. Instead, the jury list should be transparent, and the juries themselves should be diverse, with a number of musical styles represented. Eurovision has a wide range of musical styles perform, and having a jury compiled of industry professionals from only one or two genres will only harm these entries, especially those that draw on traditional music styles. Many fan favourites were cheated by the voting system because their songs and performances weren’t “normal” or “palatable” enough for the jury. As mentioned earlier, these trend towards songs that have considerable influence from the culture of the country, including native and minority languages. It was also caused by the “war” between the juries, as evidenced by the graphic put out by Eurovision showing the difference between the jury favourites and the public favourites. Sweden and Finland sat in the middle of each half, essentially causing a fight over who would win by each half voting only for that one country.

Worldwide voting should also be removed. There should be a return to form when it comes to who can vote, as it was last year. Those that did not pay for Eurovision should not be able to vote, and worldwide politics could tip a win or loss by a considerable amount. The US has a population of almost 332 million people. India has a population of 1.408 billion. Imagine if any country with a population like this had even a fraction of its people cast a vote based on socio-political reasons.

Even within the voting process itself, there are problems. Votes should cost the equivalent amount everywhere. It ranges from 15p/17ct up to over a euro to vote, depending on where you are. This is going to have an impact on who can vote, and therefore who will win. Even on the app, it costs money to vote. This will not be a fair competition until everyone can vote equally and the organisers need to get on top of this rapidly.

Equality is the basis of every democratic vote, but Eurovision does not treat all of its competitors equally. The Eurovision Song Contest explicitly acknowledged the war in Ukraine and the need for another nation to host because of it. They sanctioned Russia by banning them from entering, this year being the second year in a row after their initial ban last year. This is considered the right thing to do, but it has raised several questions. The Eurovision Song Contest declined to let Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy address the audience at the grand final, saying that it would politicise the event, ignoring the fact that they had already politicised it by acknowledging the very real events happening in the world that caused something as drastic as a change of host nation. They also politicised it by denying Russia entry. The politics are even implied in the theme. While seen as the correct thing to do, it means they have, to an extent, been hypocritical. They have then taken it one step further though, with the inclusion of Israel.

Israel’s participation has long been debated due to geographical location and politics. However, to ban Russia for the invasion and war against Ukraine while allowing Israel to compete is hypocrisy at its finest. Israel has carried out the same actions against Palestine as Russia has against Ukraine, yet they have not been banned. Instead, they have hosted in recent years, often receive a decent amount of points, and this year had a previous winner featured during the interval act. Many people with the job of awarding points made statements in support of “peace and unity!” only to immediately award points to Israel.

This disparity of treatment is most obvious at two previous competitions. Israel hosted in 2019 when the Icelandic group Hatari famously waved Palestinian flags during the grand final, causing them to be deported and banned from the country. They were later fined for breaking the no politics rule.

In 2021, the Israeli entry was a song called ‘Set Me Free’, a song title that was mocked and by many for its irony. The day before the grand final, Israel launched a missile strike against Palestine (reminiscent of the harrowing news that the hometown of the Ukrainian entry was bombed moments before they took to the stage this year simply from the other perspective) as part of a series of escalations that included threatening to evict Palestinian families from East Jerusalem and nightly clashes between Palestinians and the police during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. Many people felt that it was wrong for the performance to go ahead. For a considerable time, YouTube searches for Israel’s grand final performance only returned results for the semi-final.

Despite all this, Israel faced no sanctions at Eurovision. Contrasted with Russia, who has faced sanctions for their actions in Ukraine, fans are understandably angry and upset with Eurovision’s lack of consistent positioning on this issue, calling for the end of the hypocrisy. The double standard shown here, in the disparity of Eurovision’s treatment of Russia and Israel, is a symptom of racialised Eurocentrism – something which remains a massive problem in Europe and a subject which deserves its own post.

Speaking of the war, the UK did not utilise enough Ukrainian talent, or songs. The UK hosted on behalf of Ukraine, yet little of Ukraine was represented. Previous performers Verka, Go_A, and Jamala (who herself faced controversy for her entry at the time, it being an allegory to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in the same year as the title under the excuse of “allying with Nazis”) returned to sing their Eurovision entries, and last year’s winners Kalush Orchestra returned with an extended opening sequence. Beyond this, and one Ukrainian presenter, Ukrainian representation was far below what it should have been. Other Ukrainian groups or previous entries should have been invited to perform, and the three previous groups that performed should have had the option to sing additional songs if they wanted to. This was a serious let-down by the UK, especially given the interval performance. Famous songs of Ukraine could have been sung instead, or even some of those Liverpudlian songs translated into Ukrainian and sung by Ukrainian performers.

Moving on from those who didn’t perform to those who did: Loreen, too, is facing accusations of rudeness and arrogance. She has already won Eurovision once before and has returned to try and win again. The popular opinion is that those who have won Eurovision before should be allowed to return and perform as part of interval acts, but should not be allowed to enter again. It is unfair to the other contestants; they have already had their moment, and should move on to allow the new competitors a fair chance under the spotlight.

Viewers noticed that it was strange that the hosts kept mentioning Abba, and that a member of Abba even made a recorded appearance. Eurovision has nothing to do with Abba’s 50th anniversary next year. Abba won Eurovision for Sweden in 1974 when the UK hosted on behalf of Luxembourg. Now, 50 years later, Sweden wins Eurovision again, in the UK hosted on behalf of Ukraine, just in time for Abba’s big anniversary. No-one can deny that this coincidence seems suspicious, especially considering the jury versus public votes Sweden received and the landslide amount of votes won by Finland.

And that brings us to the plagiarism. Many fans say Loreen’s song this year, “Tattoo” is very similar to her previous winner ‘Euphoria’. An even more common accusation is that her song is very similar, or even identical to ‘Flying Free’ by Pont Aeri. Indeed, the openings are almost a complete match. It seems hard to believe that she could compose an identical opening without having heard the original at all. Sections of the instrumentals are also similar to Loreen’s entry.

Having not heard about this controversy before the grand final, the comparison this blog draws is with Abba’s ‘Winner Takes It All’. Perhaps this is why Sweden scored so many points from the jury this year? After all, Abba constructs very enjoyable, musically excellent songs. This was only noticed when my own father heard Sweden’s entry and began singing along with Abba’s lyrics, only realising that something was different when his lyrics didn’t match Loreen’s. He has been a fan of Abba since they won Eurovision and owns several records and CDs. And even he thought it was a dance remix of Abba.

During the judging section of the competition where the points are awarded, the crowd kept booing, and chanting Käärijä’s name and “cha cha cha” while the hosts were trying to announce Sweden’s victory. This chanting continued during Loreen’s victory song, as well as many other competitors immediately making their way to Käärijä to chant and support him. It was very clear who people thought the winner should be, and it was not Loreen.

No-one remembers who won the year Verka performed. They remember Verka. That’s what’s going to happen this year. This won’t be remembered as the year Loreen won Eurovision for the second time. This will be remembered as the year the juries finally went too far, and the year Finland was robbed.

Next year we should all just send our previous winners. And maybe question if Israel has a place in this competition anymore.

#eurovision #eurovision 2023 #esc 2023 #finland #sweden #uk #russia in eurovision #ukraine in eurovision #israel in eurovision #finnish people if we got anything wrong please let us know

[lorata]

Dexter & Callista, 57

for @transrevolutions on your natal day, here is uhhh some ... dark ....... conversations about death and mentoring, anger and violence and tributes who don't usually get a lot of attention? (skye & jasper)

SORRY I TRIED TO WRITE CREED but this happened instead

warnings for: canon-typical violence (arena and otherwise), mentions of offscreen victor prostitution

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Skye crumples to the ground, his chest a bloody ruin, and Two’s newest mentor brings home her first victor without even trying. Dexter had played nice with her because why not, kid had been terrified and heartsick like all of them their first time in the ring and soon she’d know the ugly stench of loss like everyone else, that sick little bonding ritual that brought them all together. Joke’s on him, though, looks like she didn’t need his condescension.

“Good game,” Dexter grinds out dully as he pushes himself to his feet, mostly because Phillips made such a fucking scene about it when his died and it feels like there’s a point to prove somewhere. Not that anybody notices, it’s endgame now so there are morgues to visit and families to call and consolation speeches to choke out for the losers. Starting tonight, sponsors will be looking to cash in their failed investments, but he can’t — not right now, not yet.

For the winners — well, Dexter wouldn’t know. He’s never brought one back alive.

The corridors bustle with activity, Avoxes and runners hustling and upstart nepotism-gifted junior Gamemakers barking out orders to make themselves feel important with their bosses busy upstairs. Someone slams hard into Dexter, knocking him fully sideways, but he keeps walking, ignoring the babbled apology.

Cannot go to the One floor, with its perfumed showers and apologetic escort and list of assignments likely already waiting. Not the mentor common floor, either, with the pity-party raging and where they will not welcome the almost-rans who murdered all the early losers. The roof, then — not the penthouse garden above the tribute apartments, home of District 12’s fresh meat, but like much of the Capitol there’s the glitzy, glittery parts for show and then there’s everything else. A few slipped pills to an Avox and Dexter’s in an access elevator to a square of rooftop nestled halfway up the complex between two spires.

He expects the gritty concrete and traffic grime, the blare of distant celebrations and occasional blaze of a travelling strobe light; he does not expect a goddess in athleisure with her feet propped up against the wall, smoking a noxious-smelling cigarette. “New girl won,” Dexter says, to give himself some time.

Callista exhales a long plume of smoke. After waiting a while for her reply, Dexter decides that must be it and lowers himself down across from her. “You know those things will kill you,” he says, out of some stupid compulsion. He can’t look at carbohydrates without feeling an itch to stuff his fingers down his throat and the only euphoria he’s ever experienced came in tablet form passed via Callista’s tongue, but his minders would have whipped him for that.

“I,” Callista says with grave reverence, “am microdosing on mortality.”

“What, all this isn’t enough for you?” He waves an arm behind them, where a condominium complex has projected the faces of all the tributes. As he watches, Skye and Camphor switch from full colour to black and white.

But at the same time, he knows what she means. They don’t make a drug mean enough for what he wants, they don’t make drugs that fill your lungs with tar and ash, that scrape your throat and make you rasp and cough. He failed, again. A beautiful, hopeful, stupid, cocky child has died, again. Sparkly club drugs and golden thrumming in his veins won’t help him now.

Callista hands it over. Dexter inhales deep — oh, big mistake, his lungs immediately protest — he chokes, spluttering, passes the cigarette back as his head spins and his stomach turns over. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall. “We were so close. So close.”

She hums. “You had a sweet one this year. How would he have fared, your boy? When they got their claws in him.”

Skye — was sweet, for One. He and Camphor had made themselves a killer pair. They’d known how to work it, too, rinsing each other off by the lake, curling up at night, teasing the audience without ever taking real advantage of each other. If it had been the two of them in the end, Dexter has no doubts they would have fought it out without hard feelings, true professionals, no hidden barbs and buried hatred coming out to play.

And when he won, it would be Dexter’s job to remind him of the cost. To sit him down, give him the list of names, and tell him exactly how they liked it, exactly as his mentor had done with him.

Anger flares, better than any drug. Dexter clings to it even as it slips through his fingers, like blood-slick intestine. “Is this you trying to make me feel better? Better he’s dead than have to suffer my life?”

Calista stares at him, incomprehending, and he could do it now, could throw himself at her and wrap his arms around her throat, bash his fists into her skull and leave her face a bloody pulp, shove her over the edge and let the sidewalk take her, every single awful, ugly urge that bubbles up when he’s on his knees but he isn’t in some plush bedroom now, is he, and she has no power over him —

“I apologize,” Callista says, and Dexter nearly screams no, don’t, I need to feel this, don’t you say you’re sorry to me but it’s too late, it all deflates. “I am furious. I want to kill. I want to feel the blood again, I want to hurt — I want to hurt.” She says it one more time, reverent, like a litany. “I wanted to hurt.”

“How can you say it like that.” Dexter almost laughs, except it’s not funny, he just — can’t make the pieces fit together. “You say these things and you’re just … sitting there, smoking. You sound like you’re ordering caviar at dinner.”

“This is how I always sound.” Callista bares her teeth in a smile that sets his skin crawling. “Ladies do not raise their voice. Ladies are elegant. Ladies —“

“Kill the guy they’re having sex with on live television and scar impressionable young boys? Come on.”

Callista huffs a sound somewhere between a snort and a snicker. “Not all of them, clearly.”

Everything is fucked, Dexter thinks, Skye should be alive and he should not be in a complicated mutilation-and-orgasms situationship with a rival mentor, but here they are. “That was still a shitty thing to say.”

Out in the streets the victory fanfare plays on tinny loop from a dessert truck. Callista closes her eyes. “I thought the Arena would make it stop,” she says. “I want to hurt — everything, everyone, all the time. I practice control with things that matter but give me an excuse and I will tear your throat out. You were wounded and I knew I could hurt you. You may take a free shot, if you’d like.”

Well, that gave him something to chew on when his brain isn’t stuffed with Skye’s death stare — Callista’s mouth on his, hand sliding between his legs, crammed into a back alley with an unconscious man’s blood pooling at their feet; the time he asked her to make him hurt and she took him close, but not quite, to using the safe word she’d taught him, and he’d cried in her arms in the comedown and they’d never talked about it, I practice control with things that matter what the fuck —

“Is that why you pick the villains?” Dexter blurted out instead, like he’s nineteen and suicidal all over again.

She exhaled through her nose. The cigarette had long burned out, and she glanced down at it, clicked her tongue, and flicked the butt away. “Never let me accuse you of being soft. Villains, really.”

“You have to know.” This year especially, Dexter has a steel stomach and even he didn’t relish those hours of watching Callista’s boy fillet the little one from Twelve. They’d all been grateful when Four took care of it. “Outliers are the underdog or the dark horse, but we’re either a hero or, well.”

Dexter, more fool him, usually went for heroes, despite the hell that waited for them. District 1 had enough angry mentors who went for the nasty ones, he could afford to try. In the end they all bled out the same.

“I hate that word.” Callista clips the words with icy precision. “They are children. Children who give the audience exactly what they want, a bloodbath. Children with no artifice, children who cannot pretty up their kills with talk of loyalty or pride or wanting to see their precious little homesteads again. The people drink up the spectacle each year and demand more, bigger, flashier. These Games teach us it is our nature to do whatever it takes to survive. My children are villains because they don’t come with equal amounts of remorse to make it palatable.”

“Sure, but this one tortured a kid,” Dexter says. Sometimes Twos really are a whole other level. “Don’t you think you’d have it easier if you picked kids who … didn’t do that? As soon as he started skinning you know they would have offed him, whether the Pack did him in or not.”

Now Callista’s eyes blaze, and for a second he thinks she’ll actually hurt him, not just throw bladed words, but the only thing that escapes her is a low hiss. “So he died regardless, knowing that he made me proud. He deserves that much. His time of glory and a mentor who loves him, even only for a month. They all deserve that. I am not in this for the safe sells, obedient little quarry sons and daughters with patriotic sponsors lined up out the door. Anyone can love those. I am here for the ones nobody else will.”

In spite of himself, Dexter’s throat feels thick. Did his mentor talk to anyone like that about him? Or does that kind of unfettered, passionate protectiveness burn out the first time you hand your victor off to the pawing crowd? He feels ancient and naked at the same time. “Well,” he says, uselessly, “here’s to dead kids who deserve better.”

Callista presses the toe of her shoe against his calf and lets her eyes fall shut. They stay outside, awake but silent, until nightfall.

#we must be killers: tales from district 2 #oc: callista #oc: dexter #my writing

[anxious-witch]

What a year, huh? We all know I have to be emotional on tumblr.com whenever the opportunity arises because that's one way I allow myself to have an emotional catharsis (for legal reasons this a joke)

In all seriousness though, this year has been a lot for me. Both in a good and bad sense, but Käärijä and Joker Out improved it significantly. And more importantly, their fandoms. (More inder the cut bc this is long af)

I have never really been someone who knows anything about the artists' whose music I listened to. Before this, I don't think I ever listened to a full album of someone, just random songs that I liked. Finding stuff from personal life of bands/musicians I liked usually made me depressed so I didn't bother.

Then, ESC 2023. happened. I frankly have no idea what flipped the switch in my head. Bojere interactions? The way people on tumblr were so welcoming even back when I was mostly posting about Let 3 and Käärijä only? I don't know, I only know that we are here now, regardless.

Another thing about me is that I used to be very pessimistic person. Likez genuinely. I have been "unofficially"(long story) diagnosed with depression and anxiety since I was 11, which is over a decade now. I always had a lot of bad experiences with people and really awful trust issues. I have been doing better for some time now, but it is very hard to let go of the feeling of pessimism and helplessness. In a world where awful things happen every second, what can I possibly do that would change anything?

Then ESC happened. Käärijä lost and I thought "another injustice that will never be corrected". Except, instead of feeling defeated, everyone just loved him more. In those weeks after and later on months, all I have seen had been unrelenting love and acceptance of Jere. Reminding him that despite not winning Eurovision, he is our winner and we'll forever think of him as such. Jere who has a wonderfully belly and strong thighs and is short and by no means is he conventional in any sense. And people loved him not despite all that but because all that. Because we all found ways to relate to him, or to what he went through.

His story of almost dying and still getting where he did only served to highlight that more. Because of he did it, why can't we get to what we want? Why can't I? It shifted my whole perspective.

Then, Joker Out. It is so, so funny to me how I barely paid any attention to them during ESC, except for bojere interactions and was dragged in it by the shared fandom, when now I post most about them.

But yes, JO. A band from Slovenia that while tehnically isn't Balkan, felt so close to me. Like they could understand all the things I kept to myself because of where I was. And then they showed me there is still hope.

I have never seen a band from around here take a pride flag on the stage. Never. I know it's a thing, especially abroad, but God I have never seen that happen here. And with how much love they always took it! That's...wow. It gave me hope that not only is it possible for injustices to be corrected, but that ot's possible to do it even in the environment I'm in.

And then...the Virtual Letters Project happened. Or well positive confessions that @spockowhales turned into Virtual Letters Project.

That's when I knew it's truly possible. I have seen tumblr posts, yes. But getting stuff so directly addressed about or to JO made me realize how much of a "wave" they all created. So many people said they helped them with their depression, with viewing their world differentky with meeting new peoplez with daring to do something new.

I have no words to describe how much that meant to me and I really hope that when they read those letters, they understood the impact they had.

But even that aside, I want to thank everyone in this fandom. People I have talked to, people I have interacted with it any way, through replies, reblogs, likes, anon asks. I appreciate every single one of you for helping create such a wonderful space. We had our ups and downs in the fandom, but we are all here because we love these fandoms, these people so much to keep talking about it even months after.

Thank you and I wish everyone here a wonderful New Year with even more laugh, love and positivity ❤️ have a good one

#rio rambles #käärijä #joker out #man this is so long but I couldn't stop myself #rio writes a love letter to jere JO and the fandom in general I guess lmao

[afreakingdork]

As Luck Would Have It

RotTMNT Donatello x GN!Reader One-Shot

Warnings/Tags: Aged-up Turtles, Death of Past Life, Soulmates, Reincarnation, Violence, Happy Ending

Synopsis:  A glimpse into another lifetime leads to a wish being made that spans the ages. When Donnie happens to activate said parameters, he is sent on a quest to find someone that he's been waiting his whole existence for.

Also avaliable on Ao3

Hopefully not too long coming, but here she is: the fic requested by my one-shot giveaway winner @anxious-cyanide !!!! 🎉🎉🎉

Also huge shout-out to the illustrious and incomparable @unknownfanartist for supplying a cover image to go along with the fic! I seriously can't thank her or anyone else who participated in the giveaway enough for all the kindness and generosity you all have shown me! My life is filled with so much love I can't stand it, but I'm sure you aren't here to listen to me go all mushy; please enjoy!

“Which means loser Shion has to get water.” From atop a fallen log, a man balanced his odachi on two fingers.

“That hardly seems fair.” Shion scoffed, folding his arms.

Below the first, another man wrinkled his brow as he attempted to fall back into his zazen. “We all agreed to the bet.”

“There were extenuating circumstances!” Shion snapped and turned his head away bitterly.

“Shi’s right!” The third man chimed in from where he was reclined on his back. “It’s not like it’s his fault he lost his weapon!” One of his hands raised up and with an expert flick, a kendama ball landed on its spike.

“That is the definition of his fault.” The first man responded flatly. In one fluid movement, he rose from a sitting position and threw the odachi into the air before catching it by the hilt. “You look like a baby  playing with those kid's toys.”

“And you look like a show-off.” The second man huffed as he squeezed his fingertips together more tightly.

“Yes, let's continue to pass judgement on one another since we all accounted for that kama actually being a kusarigama!” Shion’s voice dripped with venom.

The first man stuttered. He reached unconsciously up and rubbed at the bare, bandaged shoulder that was exposed. He twisted, his blue patterned hakama pooling at his elbows.

“Ok, ok!” The third man groaned before bending backwards and snapping into a kip-up. The motion caused the ball to spin wildly on its string. With only minor adjustments it landed on its spike as he his feet. “Aoi is just grumpy he got injured and can’t play with this sweet baby himself.” The man made a show of flicking the ball off the spike and then onto the two cups in three rapid clacks. “Hisato, weren’t we gonna train some more with those sweet weapons we got in Ryukyu? Why are you meditating?” Not waiting for an answer and taking several leaping strides, he hopped over to Shion. “Will you get the water just ‘cause I asked nicely instead?”

The wreckage of the statements caused a palpable shift. Aoi pulled half his hakama up and puffed out his cheeks in annoyance. Hisato dropped out of his stance and lolled his head. Shion’s shoulders tightened as he scrutinized the question.  

“I swear the toys are all part of the act, Toju.” Shion relented, leaning back. “Somehow the youngest and most formidable.”

Toju chuckled breezily, but there was an unmistakable air of malcontent.

“You wanna spar, let’s spar.” Hisato rose up, his aura flaring as he readied for a fight.

“Bring it!” Toju twirled around Shion’s back and brought his fists up around him.

“I am not a human shield!!” Shion shrieked as Hisato ran full tilt towards him with a prepared punch. Trapped, Shion winced until no impact came.

“Gotcha, bro.” Histao lightly tapped Shion’s nose.

Shion tried to bite his brother’s finger, but he pulled back too fast.

“Aoi, want to watch?” Toju giggled, placing his hands on Shion’s shoulders and rocking him side to side to prevent further nipping.

“We should make camp.” Aoi grumbled, his mood ever souring.

“Upset you can’t spar too?” Hisato craned his neck to see Aoi. “Aw, don’t be like that. You’ll be back up to it in a few days!”

“Let him stew. My question is why aren’t we staying in town? We have the money.” Shion dropped down low out of his youngest brother’s grip and rounded Hisato.

“We’d have to travel after dark, remember?” Hisato murmured, instantly on edge.

“This again?” Shion sighed. “We aren’t deep enough in the mountains to see bears yet.”

“I-I wasn’t worried!”

“We’re fine here. We can stay in a town tomorrow.” There was a finality to Aoi’s voice as he dropped down from the log.

Shion sneered.

“We’ll get pretty thirsty…” Toju mused, holding out his kendama to Hisato.

“That’s two.” Shion rolled his eyes to where Hisato took the toy and tested the string. “What about you?”

“It would be a big help. I’ll set everything else up while you’re gone.” Hisato beamed Shion a reassuring grin before attempting to flick the ball onto the spike. It missed completely and whacked him in the sternum.

“Fine! Use the crafty one to do menial labor! See how disorganized everything gets when Hisa’s big clumsy mits toss everything about without a single care!” Shion threw his hands up and took a few slow steps into the tree line. He listened for one of his brothers to stop him after his poignant fact drop, but he was irritated to find they just resumed their weapons talk. Grumbling to himself, Shion stormed towards the river they had passed earlier.

His path carved straight through forest they’d been strolling through. Little branches picked at the dark purple of his hakama and he tugged at the fabric harshly to free it. With spring nearly at full bloom, the foliage vibrated in a way that meant his struggle was nearly useless. It brought his knees up in retaliation as he took stomping steps to cross the green underfoot. The buzzing vocals of bugs and birds slowly fell to the backdrop static of the rushing water. Clomping on the ever moistening soil, Shion broke free from the thicket and moved his eye along the rolling bank that lead to the water’s edge.

With twilight ever approaching, the sun threw off colorful shades of sky off the river’s flowing surface. Twisting tall lengths of needle thin greenery at the shore reached high to garner as much sunlight in competition with their brethren. This towering wall scaled its way down the water in both directions. Scowl ever deepening, Shion continue to storm forward as he arbitrarily chose to head right along the river’s edge. The clinical regions of his mind reminded him that if he had instead wound the path back that he and his brothers had taken earlier than there was a clear designated bank where the water could be accessed. Shoving the thought away, he watched his steps as rocks and undergrowth dappled the rarely trodden trail. The soothing running of water begged to soothe his agitation, but Shion steeled his brow instead. As the river curved, so did he and just down the way he spied several lengths of cattails crushed to the mossy ground.

If they had curved inward toward the river he would not have been given pause. Instead, they were pressed flat heading in the direction of the trees. Dropping his stance, Shion reflexively palmed at the air to his side before his scowl shifted to a bitter sneer. He’d lost his weapon in a skirmish earlier that day. If that were simply the case than it would be one thing. With their reputation and ever constant stream of offers, the brothers had more than enough funds to replace their weaponry when necessary. Instead, he already had an alternative in the form of the bō he’d picked up in Ryukyu. He’d become rapidly attached to the expertly crafted thing which made it all the more frustrating that he had simply neglected to grab it. It was the type of fatal mistake that a sought after samurai would never make.

Resisting the urge to grumble, he continued to creep towards the foreign outlet. As mad as he was at himself, there was no way he’d trudge back to camp empty handed. His pride and brother’s chiding simply wouldn’t allow it. The river filled the sound void where his footsteps no longer echoed. Drawing close, he followed the line from where the trampled grasses lead to broken branches. Whatever had done said damage appeared to have burst from the water itself and plowed directly into the forest. It made no sense. Finally reaching the downed blades, Shion dropped all the way down to hand and knee. There was a chance that said position were vulnerable, but he had confidence in his hand to hand combat capabilities. Head barely peeking out from the brush, Shion froze as he saw the green expanse of a back.

Or rather, the jumbled network of scutes of a green turtle shell.

Head marginally shifting in surprise, he craned his neck further and watched the human sized carapace rocked gently as its huddled shape fiddled with something out of sight. A memory of a warrior who had made his armor out of turtles came to mind. Wondering if he may have stumbled upon such a being, Shion crawled forward until he could plant his feet on the ground once again. Stowing a flattened rock against the heel of his palm, he rose up incrementally. As he did so, a shock of wet matted hair appeared just beyond the shell’s top edge. Refusing to give credence to the errant thought that this was the creature that had burst from the water, he steeled himself.

“You.” Shion’s voice sliced through the ever present run of water. “Identify yourself.”

The shell jolted and froze so still that for a moment Shion wasn’t sure if he had ever seen it move.

He usually wasn’t one to doubt his own brilliance.

“I said identify yourself.” Shion repeated, authority taking reign of his vocal cords.

The body dipped slightly and Shion’s muscles flexed as he considered that the person could simply dive out of his grasp. Instead, he watched as the shell hunched forward slowly and turned.

His breath hitched as being turned to face him.

The dark green of the carapace gave way to a skin in lighter shades of moss that ran acros the visible body's expanse. Fear laden golden eyes matched the hue of the plastron that encircled the humanoid’s torso. Gangly limbs seemed to sprout from it and between webbed phalanges was the half eaten body of a very small fish.

“A yokai.” His lips moved without his permission. He had, of course, heard tale of such creatures, but only his brothers ever entertained mysticism. Reason and rationale ruled Shion’s mind which made being faced with exactly such a creature grind his gears to a halt.

“H-human!” The being stuttered before rising up to match the voice.

Shion took a tentative step back.

The creature shined with a moment of unbridled pride before resuming a cocky air. “You l-look quite plump! Give me your rations and I will spare you.”

Shion dropped his lids and gave a bored stare. In the time he’d adjusted his stance, he’d cataloged a hundred little ticks and notes about his opposite. From the way they still clung to the little fish carcass to their weak stance, it read as an obvious conclusion. “If you’re so powerful than why are you starving?”

The yokai's arrogant air falted and they stumbled back water's edge. A webbed foot dipped into the water causing the creature to shudder.

Staring down at the appendage with light curiosity, Shion brought his bored stare back up to those large eyes. “You’re aquatic, right?”

“Y-yeah?” The yokai stammered.

Making a little noise of interest, Shion shoved down any debate and stepped forward. In exchange, the creature stepped back until their heels were almost touching the water. Watching for a sign of attack and only seeing anxiety in response, Shion reached out to snatch one of the yokai’s elbows.

“H-hey! What are you doing, mortal f-fool!?” The creature all but squawked out of its pointed beak.

The beings protests were far too easy to circumvent. Lip quirked in study, Shion found the creature's arms reduced to near sinew. Grabbing a green wrist with his other hand, he used it to bring up hand up for similar examination. He found dulled claws with distinct ridging that often attributed to poor nutrition. He had seen it many times before, but preferred not to look on too long at such people. “I have a game I’d like to play.”

“What?” Finally finding enough energy to pull free, the yokai took a step to the side. “I am not here to amuse you!”

“Exactly, if you’ll indulge me I think I know why you’re here.” Shion watched the creature move carefully. Almost every tale about yokai spoke of their power and yet before him stood a thing that looked as if it would blow away in a light breeze. It bred a thousand questions. Though the stories were told far and wide there was no concrete evidence about these beings. The precipice of discovering stretching out ahead of him was so tantalizing his mouth could almost water.

“You know nothing!” The creature continued to shuffle away incrementally.

Shion squared his shoulders in an imposing manner. “I have an ongoing bet with my brother about analyzing an opponent.”

The move worked and the yokai seemed to realize that chances of escape were low. Shion watched as the creature came to terms with this and then searched his person rapidly. He failed to conceal the rock in hand before the being caught sight of it. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it already. I’m not going to entertain you until then!”

“What a waste that would be.” Shion gave a frustrated sigh.

“Waste?” The creature shook its head in confusion.

“Look.” Shion dropped his stance in a show of amity. “There’s a lot of fearmongering between yokai and humans and I don’t know what your transgressions are, but I’m not interested in senseless violence.”

Those huge golden eyes surveyed with him wary curiosity.

“Allow me to guess your situation and answer some of my questions and I’ll give you my rations. A more even trade then whatever empty threats you were throwing around before.”

The yokai gave a distinct snort of indignity before their eye turned away. Shion watched as the being blatantly debated his offer. A hungry gaze won out before it returned their attention to him. “It better not be rotten or anything.”

“It’s rice and dried fish.” Shion clarified with a dry tone.

“Koi!?” The yokai surged forward and Shion reflexively brought up a hand to block. Instead the creature grabbed his appendage and their eyes nearly sparkled at this range.

“No. What? Why would we eat koi!?” Shion twisted his head up in disgust.

“Because you’re rich?” The yokai asked with a confused expression that said that should have been obvious.

“Nobles don’t eat koi, they keep them as pets.” Finally remembering he was being held, Shion wrenched his arm free.

“Pets!?” The yokai reeled with surprise. “You’re joking!? Those fat things!?”

“I’m not!” He couldn’t figure out when he had lost control of the conversation. “I am the one who is supposed to be questioning you!”

“I haven’t agreed to the deal yet. I want to make sure it’s worth my time.”

Shion made a indignant face. This creature’s pride was off the charts. The demonic facsimile of Aoi appeared in his mind and joked about how only his own was larger. Scowling to dissipate the thought, Shion narrowed his gaze. “I told you what you’ll get. It isn’t spoiled. It was meant to be my meal tonight. Now do you agree or not? I’ll leave otherwise.”

At the mention of losing food the yokai went rigid.

Shion folded his arms as a show of how serious he was.

“O-ok! Fine! That’s fine! I accept! Ask your questions!” The being scrambled.

It took quite a bit of effort to keep the satisfied smile off of his face. “Excellent.”

“You said it was some game?” The yokai mumbled, resentment dripping from their words.

Though the creature had conceded, Shion took in the tone carefully. He had to filter it through a mental apparition of Toju, but once it came out the other side he seemingly realized the issue with the statement. “Ah, I see, allow me to rephrase.”

The being tilted their head.

“I don’t see you as a notch to be garnered in some contest. Rather it would be for my own self satisfaction to see if my guess was correct.”

The yokai’s head continued to further loll, unconvinced.

Refusing to give in to the nervous prickles in the back of his neck, Shion straightened. “Fine, how many humans have you conversed with?”

“Ones that lived?” A little wicked smile grew on their lips.

Shion’s lids came down in an unimpressed fashion.

The yokai held strong for several moments before rolling their eyes. “Not many if I can help it. Usually kids or a particularly desperate villager giving an offering.”

Shion perked up at that note and logged it away into his ever evolving list. “And I, who have traveled across this great land, have never once actually come in contact with a being such as yourself.”

“Ok?” The creature took a bored bite of their fish.

“Cultural exchange!” Shion clarified, his hands coming up in excitement.

“Huh?” The yokai squinted.

“That is what I am after. I’m far more interested in a factual record on yokai.”

“Y-you’re going to tell others?” The being twisted into themselves and Shion was once again reminded that they could flee into the water at any moment.

“Wait!” Shion lunged and caught the creature’s wrist. “I’m no fool! If I were to try to share what I learn here with no evidence than I would be no better than the mindless geezers that pedal their yokai folktales as if they were truths.”

Not realizing the implication of his words, the being surged in his grasp. “Let go!”

Noting the sudden spike in fear, a mental version of Hisato shook his head. “Oh. Oh.” Shion made a slow show of bringing up his free hand before carefully releasing his grasp.

The sudden change caused the yokai to slow, but their feet were still positioned in a way that prepared for escape.

“I have no intention of capturing or hurting you.”

“How can I believe that?!” Taking a small wary step back, the yokai’s hands squeezed into fists. “That you won’t go get that supposed dinner and bring your brother back with weapons!? You’ve said exactly what you want! Just like all those humans! All you do is take for your own gain!!”   

In spite of himself, Shino’s lips parted momentarily before he pressed them into a thin line.

“Well!?”

“I have no way to convince you.”

The yokai jolted at his quiet tone. The river continued to drone on through the long held pause before the being moved to break it. “You aren’t going to defend yourself…? Make up a lie even?”

“No.” Shion took his own step back, his hands still held up in accord. “It would make no difference. All I can give you is my word.”

“What’s the point of your ‘cultural exchange’ if you can’t tell anyone?”

Breaking eye contact, Shion searched the crushed greenery for a long moment. “It’s hard to say. Usually, proving others wrong is what I live for.”

The yokai made a sharp snorting noise.

“Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing I find sweeter than tearing someone’s moronic false ideas to shreds, but…”

Again, the water filled the void.

“I don’t know!” Shion growled, voice suddenly spiking. When he brought his gaze back to the yokai, he found them watching him curiously. “You’re unprecedented! A truly unique specimen and for the time being all I am interested in is gathering information about you.”

It was the being’s turn to look away. Through the waning light, there was a rosy quality to the green skin of their cheeks. “Fine, but I want to change the deal.”

“Again?” Shion sighed. “What now?”

“While I’m still not sure about the concept, doesn’t exchange go both ways?”

“Yes, it does. I’d also be happy to explain the concept and length if you-”

“We will each ask a question.” The yokai cut him off with a fold of their arms.

Shion sneered, but when the creature didn’t relent he gave an even headier sigh. “Fine, I suppose I was the one to use the terminology.”

“Great, go ahead then.”

“I wanted to begin with a ventured guess about your status.”

“That’s not really a question.” The yokai shook their head.

“Not yet.” Shion smirked and brought his chin up high. “From studying this scene you’ve left-” He made a show to pointing along the crush reeds up to the broken limbs in the treeline. “-In addition to your sorry state and resistance to initially fleeing…”

The yokai’s beak parted as if they were going to protest, but nothing came out.

“Along with the scant information you’ve mentioned, I believe I can make a credible hypothesis on your standing.” Without waiting, Shion lowered his gaze which sparkled with excitement. “I postulate that you were ousted from your home which I presume was a body of water you presided over as a local kami down south. You’ve traveled the waters up north, but the chilly overnight temperatures make it so you cannot stay in the water. The trip alone probably drained any resources you took with you, leaving you near destitute and unquestionably starving. As for my question, I’m asking if I was correct?”

Eyes somehow growing even larger, the creature gawked. Their beak opened and closed a few more times before they settled for falling out of their crossed armed stance to sulk. “Is it that obvious?”

To keep a lid on his surge of satisfaction at being right, Shion settled for shuffling his shoulders side to side. “I’m not interested in speaking for most people.”

The yokai huffed.

“I’ll count that as your question, moving on!”

“H-hey! That’s not fair!”

“Be more careful with your wording in the future!” Shion tutted with an air of amusement. “Could you tell me about your domain in length?”

The being shook their head hopelessly before making a show of taking a seat. Shion followed suit onto his knees and listened in rapt attention as the yokai described their lake in Funai. Nodding furiously at the information, he then supplied the creature with more information about his occupation. Breaching the culture in this regard seemed difficult as yokai hierarchy was left as broken as the warring states. Once he thoroughly translated the concept of samurai, Shion moved on to ask about their journey. Moonlight glistened off the water and made for just enough light as the creature went through a laundry list of hardships. Having lived a life of not quite luxury, but without exceeding want, Shion tried not to let pity cloud his account. The yokai seemed to catch on to this and was just asking about his human status when a snapping twig seemed to reverberate through the whole forest. Shion immediately took to his feet and his hand again went reflexively to his hip. This time he couldn’t keep the curse off his lips at his lack of weapon. Beside him, the yokai curled up, pressing into the cattails and blending in well with the shaded greens.

“I’d recognize that big forehead anywhere!”

For a split second, Shion relaxed at the sound of his brother’s voice before fear brought his muscles tense once again. Setting his jaw, Shion cast his eyes down to the creature and found them staring back at him with horrified expression. Shion mouthed for them to stay put and stepped in close, using his body as barrier as Aoi’s form approached. “You only see the signifier of my genius every single day.”

“Mhm, sure, sure.” Shion watched as Aoi came in, his brother’s eye taking in all the same detail that he had. “Forget something?”

For a moment, Shion scrambled mentally.

Aoi caught on immediately and brought rope with several carved bottles hanging off of it.

“The water.” Shion balked.

“Find something?” Aoi craned his neck curiously, following the environmental story telling.

Shion waffled and prayed for one of the few times in his life that his terrible lies would for once persuade someone. “I came across this strange display and got caught up in studying… what kind of creature had done this.”

Aoi swept his gaze up from the reeds to his brother’s face.

Shion thanked the moon for being behind him as it hopefully hid any sweat forming on his brow.

“You fell in didn’t you.”

“What?!” Shion shrieked.

“You didn’t want to come back all wet!” Aoi burst out laughing and the move caused the strung gourds to clatter along with his barks.

“I certainly did not!!” Shion hissed. It took some stretching, but he was just able to shove his brother without moving from his spot.

Aoi languidly walked off the move before circling back. “I can’t wait to tell Hisa and Juju!”

“You’ll tell them nothing!” Shion tried to make a swipe for the bottles, but Aoi outmaneuvered him.

“Nothing better than when you’re off you’re game.” Aoi continued to chuckle. “We’ll get the water together and then we can get you all toasty by the fire.”

“I-It’s fine! I’ll finish my assignment while you get back!” Shion internally screamed when the chirpy quality to his voice suddenly brought his brother’s curious brow up.

Before he could dodge, Aoi shot forward and fisted a bunch of Shion’s sleeve.

“W-wait-!”

“Bone dry.” Aoi frowned and leaned in close to his brother. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“Studying the scene!” Shion’s pupils rapidly scanned the close proximity before breaking away. “Yeah, that’s what I said earlier.”

“Are you telling me or yourself?” Aoi’s voice dropped its usual levity.

“You.” Shion set his features along with his will.

As Aoi’s gaze narrowed and Shion wasn’t going to be circumvented a third time. Both brothers moved in tandem. Aoi twisted to look behind Shion but before he could do so Shion intercepted by trying to catch his sibling in a headlock. The two then grappled with lightning fast reflexes before the engagement shifted Shion’s stance. Kicking out his brother’s feet, Aoi wrapped an arm around Shion’s waist to keep him from falling while also getting a look at what was behind him. “AH-ha…!”

Shion squirmed from where he was caught around the waist. “If you would let me-!”

“Seriously?!” Aoi huffed and let go.

Shion fell to the ground harshly, but snapped onto to his hands and knees. A dozen excuses formed on his tongue only to dissipate when he found nothing amongst the reeds he was once blocking. “What…?”

“You’re such a nerd.” Aoi griped, swinging the string of bottles into Shion’s face. “Fine, fill them up by yourself if that’s what you want!” Shion weakly reached up to take the rope. As soon as it left his hands, Aoi, turned and started walking away. “I can’t believe you actually got so distracted just looking at some smushed grass! Hurry up already or I’m gonna let Hisa eat your portion.”

“Alright!” Shion gripped with learned snark. Hobbling, but keeping to the ground, he twisted around searching for the yokai. Not finding them, Shion listened until his brother’s steps had retreated. “Are you…?” He bit down on the question as he wondered if his brother was somehow still listening. Caught between thoughts, Shion crawled forward until he was at the water’s edge. He then dragged up the string of bottles with a frown and started to fill them. As his finger’s dipped into the cool water, the tension of the surface bubbled several feet away. Freezing, he retracted the gourd in time as the shape rose up.

Instead of bursting out, the yokai’s head breeched the water in near silence. “That your brother?”

“Yes.” Shion clipped. He could feel how wide his eyes were, but was helpless to stop it.  

“I see why you play that game with him.”

Shion made a noise of affirmation and lowered the bottle to keep continue filing it. “How’d you get away?”

“Wasn’t it my turn?” The yokai gave a bobbing giggle.

Shion let out a single dry chuckle of his own and moved to fill the next gourd. “I don’t believe I have enough time to accurately answer your question.”

“Then I’ll say ‘it’s kinda my thing.’” The yokai’s hand broke the surface next and expertly squirted a spurt of water at Shion that landed just shy of his person.

“Aquatic.” Shion responded knowingly, shaking his head.

“So I’ll never get my answer?”

“As if you were the only one with more to ask.” Shion hummed, moving to fill the penultimate bottle. “I won’t penalize you for it. I’ll be sure to bring your food as soon as everyone’s asleep.”

“Can we continue then?” The yokai floated forward, but gave breadth for Shion’s work.

“I wouldn’t risk it…” Shion mused, bringing up the gourd prematurely with a loud popping bubble. “You. I wouldn’t risk you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the yokai dip slightly below the surface for a moment.

Slipping the gourd back into the river, Shion racked his brain. Trying to subdue the part of his mind that spiraled anxiously about missing his chance, he tried to sort out reasonable solutions. He’d barely scratched the surface of this cultural exchange and wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers. Corking the third bottle and moving to fill the last, Shion felt every droplet that cycled in as if it were counting down time. The movement of which, thankfully, sparked an idea. “Was this your destination?”

“I don’t have a specific place in mind, though, like you said, the north is too cold.”

“It will continue to warm with spring here. Would you consider making an exception?” Keeping his eyes on task, Shion silently pleaded.

“Why do you ask?”

The bottle filled and he brought it up along with his gaze. “Keep following along the river; it’s the same route my brothers and I are taking to collect our payment. I’ll keep supplying you with food and we can continue to meet.”

The yokai bobbed up enough that Shion could see the owlish surprise in their golden orbs.

“Aren’t you cold?” Corking the bottle, Shion’s brow came down around the question. He wasn’t sure where it had come from.

“A little.”

Picking up the rope, Shion retreated backwards and watched in awe as the yokai’s head floated toward the bank. The being then seemed to walk straight out of the water which was undisturbed by the loss of its tenant. With the moon pouring light around the sparkling droplets on the yokai’s skin, Shion breathed deeply from where he hadn’t realized he’d stopped.

“I guess if you actually drop the food off tonight, then I can trust you’ll continue to hold up your end of the deal…”

There was a tentative surge of joy in Shion’s chest. He stamped it down. “I swear it.”

The yokai blinked widely and then through their beak gave a little smile. “I look forward to a steady meal.”

“Is that all?” Shion feigned a huff, the strange feeling still lingering in his chest.

“Of course, why else would I bother with such a stuffy human?” The yokai approached him.

He stiffened and they brought their hands up in amity as he had done to them earlier.

“Quick learner.” Shion grumbled more to himself.

The yokai either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore the comment. “You’ll have to come to me at the river.” The being held out a webbed hand.

“Unless you want my brothers to see you…” Confused but curious, Shion looked between glowing eyes and the appendage several times before carefully offering his limb.

The yokai took it and turned it over so his palm was facing up. They then brought their other hand up with a single dull claw and dropped it to his skin. “To call me, just dip your finger into the water two times, then pause, then three times.” The being demonstrated barely scratching at his palm in the process. “I’ll know it’s you and the coast is clear.”

Shion nodded dumbly and watched as the yokai released him.

“You alright?”

“Yes.” He came back to himself and shook off the lingering buzzing in his hand by clenching it into a fist. “Yes.” He repeated more firmly. “From now on it will always be after my family is asleep.”

“Alright.” The yokai nodded with a bob.

It was the first time he’d seen an amicable air from them. Something about it made his chest surge with what Shion identified as pride. “I need to get back.” He pulled up the rope with the bottles.

The being hummed in agreement.

Shion took a stiff step back. “I’ll be back.”

“You said that.” The yokai gave that beaky smile again.

Several more bow legged steps were made.

“Bye.” The being gave a genial wave.

Shion dipped around it and finally made the turn towards where he had come. He made it approximately half a foot before something occurred to him. “I didn’t get your name!”

“Doremi.” The yokai nodded. “And what shall I call you, human?”

Resisting the urge to stare, Shion tried to swallow the ever pertinent odd feeling. “Shion.”

“Hurry up then, Shion-human. The sooner you return the sooner I can eat.”

“Sleep doesn’t work like that.” He called back before forcing himself to trudge forward. He cursed his idiotic parting and heard a small crop of laughter from the yokai he left by the riverside.

Back at camp, the evening banter with his brothers seemed to both fly by whilst drag on at a snail’s pace. The dying embers lingered longer than the even snores of his family. Though they didn’t know of the Doremi’s existence, part of Shion’s mind wondered how they could sleep knowing such a unique creature lay a short walk away. The moon had made it’s less noticeable trek across the sky by the time Shion was able to sneak away once again. This time he made sure footing through the underbrush and revealed his rations from the sleeve of his hakama. He left them at the water’s edge where the reeds were trampled and dipped his finger in the water as instructed. Against his better judgment, he refused to linger and hurried back to camp. With his brothers still collapsed on their rolls, Shion settled in and spent a sleepless night reviewing what he had learned again and again.

When morning’s light came, Toju found his rinsed container at the edge of camp. Shion babbled a line of excuses, but it was Aoi who laid down the agreed upon defense of late night snacking. It was a minor indignity, but nothing Shion couldn’t handle. After packing up, it was another day of traveling amongst his closest companions. There was both a learned air of family to their connection, but an unmistakable fondness that Shion wouldn’t trade for the world. Though they quarreled, he would pick no other occupation or persons to share his life with. Meeting with Doremi the first night was what he akinned to the rare spice in the pot. When it came to food, Toju did his best with dishes on the road and for the most part Shion couldn’t care less about the finished product. As long as a meal was palatable and gave enough nutrients, eating had always been more a necessity than a pleasure.

Doremi shifted his view on that as well. Watching the yokai partake in meals was an experience. They relished flavors they had never tasted before and regaled him in what humans usually offered. If the dish was good, then Doremi’s eyes would light up with enough sheen that it pushed Shion to make his first requests to the chef. It ended up being a win-win as Toju was over the moon that his brother had finally shown interest. It eased any guilt about Shion's ever mounting lies while the trope and yokai moved further north and into the mountains.

The nights spent in towns were the easiest to slip away from his brethren, but the hardest to easily gain access to the river. For whatever hurdles lay for Shion, they were always double that for Doremi. The yokai not only had to dodge humanity's vigilant eye, but they also had to navigate between multiple water ways while also keeping pace with a party they couldn’t see. The resilience wasn’t lost on Shion and neither were the changes in Doremi. Having a consistent and more balanced diet meant the yokai was rapidly on the mend. Though it wasn’t an overnight change, Shion’s studious eye noted every minute advance. From the enhanced green luster to fuller limbs, even Doremi’s claws seemed to sharpen themselves with good nutrition. Less to protect himself and more for his own comfort, he showed Doremi his new blade and bō. Shion was delighted to find no fear in place and instead curiosity at human construction. To say the cultural exchange was going well was by far an understatement.

When the brothers reached their destination to pick up payment, they were tipped off to their next job down south. The constant treks across the country had become commonplace and the group rarely complained about the backtracking. A night of celebration with overflowing wallets gave way to Shion’s first missed meeting. Carrying the veritable basket of apology confections and rations, Shion was surprised when he was met with blatant concern instead of anger. It twisted up that feeling that never seemed to leave him with Doremi was near. The scolding was light as he passed chewy delights to the yokai. Gushing about the flavor, Shion found the way the moonlight played off Doremi’s now glossy locks to be an image he wished he could immortalize in paint. It was one amongst a growing list.

Shion found he didn’t need and excuse to breach the topic of their next destination and his chest swelled when Doremi instead asked where they were going. His mind was quick to remind him that the noun could also include his brothers, but a hopeful part of his mind told him that Doremi instead considered themselves an unofficial member of the group. The sticky humidity of summer reared its head and the yokai was thriving in the weather. It wasn’t just the warmth of the sun that tingled in Shion’s cheeks at the thought of an extension to their partnership. Within a few days, the brothers and yokai departed.

As time stretched on, a rhythm was established. Shion knew with each meeting that he should be more wary that his brother’s would discover what he was doing, but in inverse occurred. Though he kept the same care in escape, he allowed his worries to wane. As they spent all their time together, it was inevitable that the group would need time apart. It wasn’t unusual to wake up and find someone had wandered off. Toju could often be found smearing berries on trees and Hisato’s faraway destructive punches could sometimes be heard on the wind if it blew in just the right way. It was Aoi that Shion feared the most. His twin’s perception and familial priorities were leagues ahead of the others. If Aoi did know, he thankfully had decided that it wasn’t worth his time to interrupt. Even if it was just his imagination, Shion was thankful.

In a similar vein, there was naturally a shift in the so-called cultural exchange that made the title less accurate. The countless hours spent discussing customs waned as the topics were stretched to their limits. From there informality grew and they moved on to discussing their personal lives. Though he’d gotten a taste for it, Shion never tired of Doremi’s attentive nature. They talked a haughty game, but had taken their responsibility as caretaker of their lake very seriously. The humans they had exposed themselves to were all done so in a means to help. From saving a drowning child to comforting a woman who lost her husband, Doremi even had been known to give back their own offerings if it meant a hungry mouth could be fed. Shion had long made adjustments so his own nutrition wasn’t at risk, but Doremi staunchly still tried to share every meal with him.

He’d indulged the yokai’s emphasis on food at first with an eye roll and eventually as a heady reminder. Though he never considered himself rich and there had always been times when a decent meal was scarce on the road. True hunger, however, wasn’t something Shion thought of. It revealed to him the deficits in society he tried to turn a blind eye to. It had taken some time, but guilt cropped up; not over their different statuses, though that was a given, but instead that she held a certain level of burden having to also explain them to him. It was a grounding he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. All that being said, he couldn’t help but still laugh at Doremi’s obsession with koi. Beyond eating it, if he happened to pass through a town that had some, endless questions were abound. He’d made sure to get a wooden carving, much to the confusion of his brothers. Overnight a necklace was woven out of reeds with the trinket dangling right at the upper edge of the yokai’s plastron. It brought Shion a satisfaction he couldn’t at first place. He began to jokingly refer to Doremi as such. He wasn’t sure if the yokai knew how selfish that thought was or the double meaning it entailed, but just their shiny locks were excuse enough to remind him of the ornate fish's fins. The nickname heralded a tidal shift that moved far beyond conversation alone.

The pair took to strolling through whatever path was afforded them near the rivers. Thousands of steps were matched as dreams were shared amongst them and the fireflies of summer. In time, an arm was offered and hips grazed with nearly every thought bubbling off tongues. It was on one particular night, when the cicadas screamed their loudest, that they found a forgotten boat docked on still waters of a connecting lake. Doremi pushed the boat out and Shion took helm on steering. When the yokai had turned, overjoyed at the ride and happiness sparkling in honeyed orbs, Shion finally pinned the feeling that had been ever growing. It left him awestruck and he nearly capsized at the identification. Doremi fretted and sent him to bed worrying about his health. The next morning his distracted state left his brothers in a similar fuss.

How could he tell them he wasn’t sick, but in love?

It was the culmination of a thousand tiny things he could both list in an instant and never in a lifetime. It crushed him within an inch of his life. It felt like he was the luckist man alive. He wanted to deny the feeling. He labeled it selfish. He despised how his heart had betrayed him. They were completely different species. He had no way to take his earnings and settle down. Their lives, Doremi’s life, would always be in danger. It already was, but adding his existence to the mix made it more so. Humans had only fear for yokai, as yokai feared them in turn. Years of bloodshed, confusion, and hate weren’t something that would change overnight no matter how many facts Shion would plaster even the whiff of a naysayer with. It had taken him months to see and he had an open mind. He had little hope for the stupidity of the masses. It left him hopelessly happy and disheartened. It didn’t matter if Doremi felt the same. He couldn’t put that on her.

Lost in these ever swirling thoughts, a billow of black smoke shot up into the otherwise unmarred blue sky.

“That’s a big fire…” Toju murmured to Shion’s left.

“We just passed the charred remains of a village, what? Two days ago?” Hisato added over his shoulder.

“Sounds like we’re going on a detour, eh guys?” Aoi shifted his stance toward the plume.

“From the wreckage and timing, I’d say we’re in for a group of at least seven bandits.” Shion tapped his arm absentmindedly as he did the mental math.

“Don’t’cya just hate when we can’t split them up evenly!?” Aoi huffed. In a few bounding leaps, he shot in front of Hisato.

“Do you wish there were more or less?” Shion sneered.

Aoi spun around and made a show of whipping both his odachi out to his sides. “It’s a 50/50 for one guess!” He then winked and turned into a run. The brothers pulled out their own blades and quickly fell into formation. As the village grew on the horizon, a villager stumbled towards them on the path.

In several bounds, Toju broke away to intercept. As soon as he got close, the youngest brother halted so quickly that the dust from the path kicked up around him.

The brothers readied themselves.

As the dust cleared, they watched in stunned silence as the man turned, covered in blood. The left side of his face hung off and he routinely choked on the steady stream of his life fluids draining from the wound.

“Aoi!?” Toju squeaked, reaching for the man. “Sir?”

“There’s nothing we can do for him… I don’t know how the poor bastard's on his feet…” Aoi’s voice dropped low, circling.

“T-they…” The man choked, his form teetering more and more.

“How many?” Shion pressed, pulling away from Hisato.

“The men…” Strangled by something in his windpipe, the brothers each took their own step back as the man dropped to his knees and then the ground, silent.

“No more jokes.” Hisato decreed. “These people need help.”

The others nodded and shot straight to the village. Within seconds the screams poured from the flaming shacks. Bodies littered the ground and mud was formed from the amount of viscera spilled. Hoofbeats soared above the chaos and an armored man on hoseback appeared. Aoi leaped forward and bounded off Hisato’s shoulders to made a clean cut through the man’s neck.

Shion rounded the fallen figure and snatched the banner from the fleeing steed. “It’s a clan army…”

“What do they want with this small place?!” Hisato shot to the right and stabbed through a man coming around the corner.

Toju who had dropped down to check one of the bodies, rose up with an orange cloth fisted in his hands.

It was a marker they only implemented in battle.

Aoi stared at the younger sibling for a moment before setting his brow. “Let’s go!”

The brothers tied colored wraps up around their forehads and dove into the smoke. A cacophony of blades, shouts, arrows, and thudding hooves rose from every direction. Between the distinct flashes of his brother’s colors, Shion fell into the numbing rhythm of falling any other being that crossed his path. As his count soared above the double digits, the brothers broke free of the smoldering shacks and out onto a field bordering the village. There, nearly a hundred men sat idly with various stages of weaponry and horseback.  

“What the hell are you doing!?” Aoi roared, flicking blood from his odachi.

“Ah.” A man on an ornately decorated horse strode free from the line. Shion identified him as the general. “Well this is a surprise.”

“Not what I would call it.” Aoi all but hissed.

“Blue.” The general chuckled.

Aoi bared his teeth.

“Purple.”

Shion spun away from a downed foe and held his blade to his side.

“Red.”

Hisato knocked two men back and glared down the line.

“Orange.”

Toju slit a man’s throat and let him down with a teetering thud.

“I’ve heard of your little samurai family group. Your father was quite revered and he seems to have trained you well.”

“You haven’t answered my question.” Aoi seethed, taking a single step forward.

The general’s horse threw its head at the move and the man pulled at the reigns to stop it. “Oh this? We asked the villagers kindly to share their harvest as we head out to our little… rendezvous. They were gracious enough with food, but were lacking in the entertainment department…”

Shion squeezed his blade and could hear the thundering steps as Hisato approached.

“Under stimulated men get too zealous in battle so I’m letting the ones that are pent up release their energy.”

Aoi glanced back as a shack collapsed under a raging fire.

“Who hired you? I’ll double the pay to have you all scurry off.”

Aoi’s return rotation to the general oozed malice. “You could say we’re between jobs at the moment.”

“Then why are you bothering my men?” The general scoffed, looking bored of the conversation. “Here.” He reached into a pouch hanging from his horse’s saddle and pulled out a bag. He then tossed it straight across the field. It landed out Aoi’s feet and rolled over, spilling coin into the blood stained dirt. “Take this and leave.”

“Aoi…” Hisato’s voice was thick.

Aoi bent forward and took a hold of the mouth of the bag.

“Shion…” Toju murmured, exchanging glances.

Aoi smiled. “I see…”

Shion nodded.

“Well? It’s more than enough considering I lost how many men?” Leaving the question rhetorical, the general pulled at his reigns to rejoin the ranks.

“The price of man…” Aoi said.

“Let’s regroup. Did we get everything?” The general addressed his men.

Hisato sighed.

“I think you owe us one more thing!” Aoi shouted, an unhinged buoyancy to his stance.

“Huh?” Before the general could fully turn, an odachi stabbed right through his neck. It seemed as if even the flames went silent as the man gurgled around his own blood before falling off his horse into a heap.

“Now we’re square.” Aoi hummed, twirling his remaining Odachi in hand.

“SELFISH INGRATES!” The man next to the general screamed and gave the signal. The full army surged to life and stormed right at the brothers as they fell in line with one another. If the earlier chaos in the village was a cacophony, then this was completely deafening. The sounds engulfed Shion’s ears until they were ringing and everything dropped to a cottoned muffle. Every single movement had to be precise. They were outnumbered in a way they had never been before. Twisting and pushing his body beyond its limits, he struck again and again. A blade behind him clipped his shoulder and he kicked off one man and slammed into a horse. The neighing broke through the fuzz and the horse kicked a series of screaming men. Twisting his sword out, another blade hooked his hand along with the hilt. The ensuing pull sprayed blood and took his weapon away.

Dropping down to avoid the next strike, Shion pulled the bō from his back. Its lethality was less, but his range grew to make up for it. With a swift spin, he carved himself out a radius where he could take a single breath before men and hooves were upon him again. From the ground, someone he thought was dead stabbing into the plump part of his calf. Hissing, he jut the staff back and heard the sickening squelch of it entering the man’s head. If he had time he would have gagged.

“Hisato!!!” Toju’s voice screeched through the battle.

Shion spun around with the sound and let his weapon lead the way. Grunts echoed where the bō moved and he tried to carve that radial path once again. No matter how hard he spun, he couldn’t achive the arch without both his legs firmly planted. The torn muscle refused to cooperate so Shion shuck the weapon back to stabilize a forward shot instead. A blade swung back just as he took off and it was a flash of blue that kept him from being inadvertently decapitated.

“Pay attention!!” Aoi seethed, his own face painted red which dripped down making Shion’s color around his collar.

“Hisato!” Shion protested as they instinctually went back to back.

“We’re no good to him if we’re dead!” Aoi growled before shooting forward again.

Shion twisted in learned synchronization and, in time with Aoi, finally carved a path. The two dove deeper into the skirmish, each swinging in tandem with the other. It might have been exhilarating had a sword not plunged right through Aoi’s right arm. Shion watched in seeming slow motion as the strike shot through his brother. The grimace on his sibling’s face twisted along with the blade as it then cleaved most of the flesh off in a single swipe. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Shion lunged at the attacker. Aoi choked on something beside him as Shion put all his force into a forward jut of his bō. His shoulders screamed in protest as the wood punctured the man’s wind pipe.

Spinning around to catch his brother, Shion found Aoi nowhere in sight. Twisting his staff around, he prepared his lungs for another shout when his heart seemingly skipped a beat. His blood pressure plummeted as his head lolled down. Right through the left side of his chest, a shiny red blade stuck out several inches. Blinking slowly, he felt a sting in his left arm. Unable to lift his bō any longer, Shion rolled his head in that direction to find another blade cleaving his arm in a similar way it had Aoi’s. It was a weird cosmic symmetricality that they had always shared. When he moved to jerk away from the strike, his arm came mostly free from him. The weight distribution suddenly shifted, Shion watched as the ground rapidly soared towards his vision. In another bit of cruel irony, it was upon falling on the ground that the sword in his chest was finally dislodged.

Shion had no idea how long he lay on the ground, but it was long enough that the battle came to an end.

At least, that’s what the silence indicated.

Through a slow blink, he opened his eyes from where he hadn’t known he closed them. Around him, there wasn’t a single sign that a skirmish had taken place. On two wobbly stems, Shion propped himself up and stared across the field. It lay with the summer’s growth of a crop he suddenly couldn’t identify. He was usually so good with plants too. With some difficultly, Shion looked back to where the village should be. In its place there was nothing but continuous rolling fields. He watched as the thin green blades flicked with wind that didn’t seem to be reaching his person. Curious, a numb hand reached up to touch his face. He wasn’t sure contact was even made because none could be felt.

Opening his mouth, Shion tried to force out a call for his brothers but no air escaped him. He pushed and pushed, but it was as if there were no lungs in his body to move the sound. Terror gripped him and he spun around in a crazed semicircle. Miles and miles of empty land surrounded him on all sides. Unable to decide, Shion took off in the direction his pivot landed on. He tore through the grasses, but with every step that should have trampled them, they seemed unwieldy underfoot. It caused him to slow once more. Unsure, he racked his brain for the immense knowledge he had collected throughout his lifetime. No explanation of this supernatural occurrence came to mind, but the mysticism of it tore a single image from him: Doremi.

Renewed, he again tried to scream. No sound came out and his face screwed up as he put all his force into it. Though he didn’t seem to have any oxygen, the move made him light headed and brought him to the ground once again. In a horrible slideshow he watched a simultaneous projection of all the times he had spent with the yokai amidst all the times he hoped would come. When the reel ended, he was struck by how little there was. There hadn’t been enough time. He needed more time. Abandoning his voice, he clawed at the earth, but found he couldn’t make a dent. He felt tears that didn’t exist prick at his retinas and he did the only thing left, the one thing he’d all but abandoned; he prayed.

He’d dismissed the ideas of some overseeing being around the age of nine. Between his training and what he watched his father go through, Shion swore there was no way some magical entity could allow such indignities on his creations. Shion himself was often cited as cruel, but the machinations of this world far exceeding anything he could stomach.

Still be pleaded. He begged the force and made no apologies for the time he spent not believing. He instead argued for his due.

For his brothers.

For Doremi.

For Doremi.

For what seemed like an eternity, he kneeled. His mantra repeating in his brain at such a severe rate he might never have another thought other than that again.

No night came.

The sun continued to shine on a cloudless sky.

The grass continued to gentle jostle with a summer’s breeze.

His brothers.

Doremi.

He never even got to show her a real koi fish.

“You should have passed on by now.”

Shion jerked, the mantra still ringing in his ears.

“Why do you linger?”

Shooting to his feet, Shion spun around and was once again met with only rolling fields.

“A stubborn one.”

The plea continued to repeat as an earworm, but Shion was able to manage a single alternate thought. A question.

“Who am I?”

Shion blinked before opening and closing his mouth. There was still no sound.

“I can hear you just fine. No need to waste your time.”

Then why haven’t you answered my prayers?!

“Prayers?” The voice sounded genuinely confused.

Imaging a drum being played with exahsutive ferocity, Shion mentally turned up the mantra.

“Oh, that! You’ve been going on about that for so long that I’d gotten used to it!”

HOW DARE YOU-!

“Enough.”

…

“I meant more that you have already been granted one of those things.”

What do you mean?

“Your brothers. You are intrinsically tied to them. In fact, they are waiting for you now, but you need to move on.”

Shion spun around, searching the grasses once more.

“Not here, little one. You need to move to the next plane.”

Doremi!

“Doremi?” The voice again seemed genuinely surprised.

Doremi! Doremi! Green skin! Shell! Golden eyes! Hair like-

“Silence, allow me to see.”

Shion furrowed his brow. If this was some type of god, why didn’t they just already know? Why was he trapped in his inane conversation?

“It is not for you to comprehend.”

Spoken like someone who also has no idea.

“Aren’t you something.”

Far be it for a puny human to ask questions.

“I would call it amusing, but we don’t have to agree.”

Don’t we?

“We don’t. Tell me, what is it that you want with the kappa?”

Kappa?

“You didn’t even know what kind of yokai Doremi was? I see why you requested more time.”

Then you already know what I want!

“I didn’t say that. Your thoughts were too simplistic. You simply wished for your brothers and the yokai, but how? You already have one of those things. Why should I give you more?”

More?!

Shion turned, his chest aching painfully.

I barely got any time.

In quick repeat, he played the reel of his time with Doremi over.

Again, it ended in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

You can see, right?! You saw!?

“I saw.”

Then you know!

A long stretch of silence played out. Shion continued the mantra in a failed attempt to soothe himself.

“Do you want to know how many lifetimes it’s been since you found your soulmate?”

Soulmate?

“73.”

What do you mean soulmate!?

“It’s astounding in a way. It’s not like the system is rigged for you to not meet them. There’s free will to contend with, but the chance occurs in every lifetime.”

Answer me!

“Maybe it’s because you get coddled by your brothers in every existence…”

Don’t… Don’t you dare-!!!

“That’s not mine to undo. Do not fret.”

Not yours?! What does that mean!?

“It is a pity though.”

Hey!

“How about a compromise?”

…

“I can’t give you another gift. As I’ve said, you’re already tied to three beings, but I can grant you something else.”

Why?

“I find 73 lifetimes without true love to be a bit despairing. I guess I’m a romantic in that sense.”

Great. My life is in the hands of an being that doesn’t use reason.

“If I were then we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

…

“The opportunity will occur in your next lifetime. If you make contact with your soulmate then I will allow you to glimpse a moment; a little gift so you may not let them slip through your clutches again.”

And what if I don’t? I’ve apparently failed 73 other times…

“Then you will be born again. My gift will be of one time use, but it will continue on until the meeting occurs.”

This is stupid.

A sharp ring of laughter echoed from the skies above.

It was so loud Shion’s knees buckled.

”You truly are something! I haven’t had a laugh in eons!”

Scoff.

“As much resentment as you hold, I can tell you're ready to move on.”

Something about the way it was said sent an icy cold shot of fear through Shion’s veins. He looked down to find his body rapidly becoming translucent.

Wait! I haven’t-!

“There will never be enough time. Just remember this moment-”

Shion winced as the image of Doremi eating a confectionery was forced into his mind.

“-and live your life to its fullest.”

Watching his hand, Shion found he could barely see his outline.

One! One final question!!!

“Hurry.”

Does that mean Doremi was-?!

“Good luck finding them in your next life.”

The breeze continued to roll through the unchanging empty landscape.

-

Cleaved by the earth in a continental divide.

Over and over in a gambit long tried.

A butterflies wings.

The sweep of tree's shade.

Castle doors open to mist.

Whilst the sun bathed you in a gentle kiss. 

The eternal dance of you and I.

Unable to seek.

Unwilling to hide.

-

“I just wanted a gazpacho burrito!” Leo whined as he rolled out of the way of a tenderizing mallet.

“What is wrong with you!?” Mikey turned up his nose in disgust.

“Honestly!” Rupert Swaggart huffed as he lifted his mallet again. “Food trucks are an affront to the culinary world!”

“No!” Mikey wrapped a chain around a light pole and swung around to kick Meat Sweats in the side of the head. The force launched the pig mutant across the park. “I am not agreeing with you on that! Food trucks have been instrumental in fusion shifts!”

“Perfect, I’d had enough of the banter.” Donnie clapped as his bō telescoped in hand. “I’d rather we get to lunch as soon as possible.”

“See! Donnie wants a burrito too!” Leo jumped excitedly to point.

“Eugh, no!” Donnie scrunched up his face in disgust.

“Et tu!?” Leo hissed.

“Ok, ok!” Raph scrubbed his face. “Isn’t that why we’re here?! ‘Cause no one could decide on one type of food!”

The others all paused to give it some thought.

“Huh, I guess so.” Leo shrugged. “Hey, how is there still a line!?”

“There can’t possibly be. There’s a mutant attack and-” Donnie looked as Leo gestured with an angry grimace. “Oh, wow, there actually is.”

Raph approached the slew of New Yorkers who were huddled down in fear but still queued at the various food trucks. “Uh, you guys ok?”

“I-I waited t-two hours.” A shaky voice rose up from the line. “I-I’m n-not going a-anywhere!”

“For the, and let me emphasize this, gazpacho burrito!?” Pinching the air to accentuate his point, Mikey dropped down onto Raph’s shoulder to loom over the person.

“Y-yeah?” The civilian choked.

“No taste.” Mikey sighed, crawling down from his perch. “So did Rupert just bail or…?”

“Maybe ya knocked him out?” Raph hummed in thought.

“That is a distinct possibility.” Donnie noted, tapping his staff to the ground.

Leo watched his brothers for a moment and then looked down the line from the trucks. “Uh… guys?”

“Huh? I can’t hear someone who no taste buds!” Mikey mimed a hand up to his ear and rolled his gaze skyward.

“Har har.” Leo retorted dryly. “Where do these trucks get their power?”

“Either from the truck itself or usually a generator.” Donnie walked over to one said square and gestured to it. “The output on this model is poor though. A few tweaks and…”

“No.” Raph stomped over and swatted Donnie’s flexing fingertips. “You gotta stop upgrading stuff without people’s consent!”

Leo started to walk down the queue. “But not like tapping into the city?”

Donnie rubbed his hand indignantly. “I believe that would invoke some kind of violation.”

“You’re basically stealing power.” Mikey nodded, slyly watching Leo out of the corner of his eye.

Leo reached down and picked up a thick orange cord. “Uh huh…”

“What is that?” Donnie slipped around Raph’s form and towards Leo.

Mikey seemed to catch sight of it too, but turned the other way. “It looks like there’s one going to every food truck…”

“One going to…?” Donnie spun around.

“Alas there’s bound to be causalities in the cutthroat world of cuisine!” Rupert’s voice rose up from above and the brothers turned to see the pig mutant perched on a nearby building with the end of the orange cord in hand.

“Donnie! Raph! Civilians! Mikey, on me!” Leo sliced open a portal as Mikey’s chains soared out towards Rupert.

Meat Sweats grinned manically and plugged in the cord.

“On it!” Raph shouted, turning back to the crowd. “Lunch times over! Y’all gotta-!”

A deep rumbling seemed to bubble up from somewhere other than the ground.

“Raph…” Donnie warned, wildly looking for the source.

“EVERYONE MOVE NOW!” Raph roared, his formed rapidly expanding with his ninpo. The line finally relented in an attempt to escape when the tires of the row of food trucks started to sway.

Donnie balked as the rumbling noise soared in pitch. He brought his staff up just as the metal roof of each truck burst open. Boiling oil shot straight into the sky and immediately hit an arch point where it curved to rain back down. Scrambling, Donnie activated his own ninpo and a giant purple umbrella formed out of the top of his staff. He bolted towards the civilians that had yet to escape and covered them as the oil rain down with a steaming sizzle.

“Hot, hot hot!!” Raph hissed as droplets dripped down through his projection.

Donnie planted his feet and increased the size of the umbrella. “Unless you want to be the ones deep fried, I suggest you move, people!” 

Raph’s form winced as he ducked under the umbrella and urged the masses along. “Alright, no shoving…”

The crowd shuffled around Donnie, bumping him as he tried to keep the umbrella steady. "Honestly-!” He was cut off when someone shouldered him with enough force that one hand came free from his bō. Hissing, the throng of people rushed across his arm and Donnie had difficulty reigning the limb back in while still holding the oversized object steady. With a sharp tug he retracted the appendage and his vision whited out.

“Well?” Shion watched carefully as Doremi went in to take a bite.

“Don’t rush me!” The yokai giggled with a shake of their head.

“As slow as a lazy koi.” Shion smiled fondly as Doremi’s beak cut right through the chewy mochi.

From where the yokai’s eyes had fallen in satisfaction, they popped open as they went on to gush about the flavor. Time stopped as moonlight played off Doremi’s glossy locks.

A sizzling sound hissed in his ears and the image seemed to burn away as if it were on an old film reel.

“Donnie!?” Raph’s voice reached his ears.

Donnie croaked and felt small bits of oil sting his legs. Blinking free, he found that he was on the ground with his big brother hunkered over him in an attempt to protect him from most of the boiling substance.

“What happened?!” Donnie shouted, hand wildly searching for his staff.

“I don’t know!? You kinda just passed out!” Raph’s face contorted in pain.

Finally grazing titanium, Donnie reestablished the umbrella. “Are you ok? Was anyone else hurt?”

“Heh.” Raph’s shoulders dropped, unable to cover his wounds. “Don’t worry about ole Raph. I got everyone out. I’m more worried about you and why the others haven’t unplugged the dang… whatever it is yet!”

“I…I’m fine.” Donnie twisted around to look at the rooftop where Rupert had been. “They’re gone.”

“Fights moved so we should too!” Raph straightened and shook himself off. Donnie reigned the size of the umbrella in and together the two brothers left the splash zone. Once free, purple pixels flittered down and shifted to form a safety barrier in a radius around the gushing oil. Raph gave Donnie an assuring nod before the two moved to scale the building. Unplugging the cord and watch the oil slowly taper off, the pair were about to dart off when a portal appeared beside him.

“We gotta unplug the-! Oh, it’s done!” Leo stepped through with Mikey following close behind.

“Where’s Meat Sweats?” Raph wondered, rubbing a blister on his bicep.

“We knocked him down into Hidden City jail. Maybe ruining a prison kitchen we’ll keep him busy for a bit.” Leo shook his head.

“Oh, to be a prisoner…” Mikey sang wistfully.

“No.” Leo said simply before bonking his younger brother with the hilt of his odachi.

“I swear, Michael, you are one step away from a life of crime at any moment.” Donnie mused with a wry smile.

“I think you’re mixing us up dear bro-there!” Mikey hummed and stuck his tongue out.

“You ok, big guy?” Leo took several slinking steps forward and around Raph.

“Just a little burn…” Raph responded with a rolling shoulder.

“I thought D had you covered?” Leo looked back at Donnie who was staring at the oil pooling on the concrete.

“That… Well…” Raph tried and failed.

“Something happened?” Mikey filled in.

“I passed out.” Donnie said flatly and felt all eyes land on him. “I had a vision, I think.”

“That’s…” Leo started and stopped to think. “What? Like a new power?”

“Casey’s never mentioned one like that before!” Mikey jumped excitedly at Donnie and snatched his arm to study it.

“No.” Donnie tugged his limb free and eyed Leo. “Not like that. I’m not sure. I feel fine now. I need to do some research…”

“But…!” Leo teased, leaning into Donnie face before moving downward to poke the plastron covering his stomach. “Lunch, right? Coulda just been a hunger induced fainting spell.”

“Ah!” Donnie telescoped his tech-bō to a handheld size. “I’m all for ruling out easy maladies. Yes, let us gather sustenance!”

“So, I was thinking Spanish?” Leo chided, looking beyond Donnie to Mikey.

“You heathen! You are not making that monstrosity at the table!” Mikey prickled.

“Let’s just hit a food hall…” Raph sighed, shaking his head.

-

Leaning back, Donnie looked down the blurry pen balanced on his snout. This act was far more Leo’s speed, but he had reached a point where channeling his other brothers’ energies was the next best thing. Beyond him, many tabs sat up on his enormous monitor. They culminated in countless hours of online research that had been proceeded by at least a dozen medical and mystic analyses. The tests yielded a slew of normal data while the internet had thin estimations at best. Giving a sigh, he wrinkled his nose and allowed the pen to fall. In a flash, he caught the writing utensil and lurched forward in the process. He brought the pen down to an errant piece of paper and made a scribble before discarding the object all together.

A frustrating query with no apparent result was the bane of his existence.

Swiveling around, he walked out of his chair within the rotation and prepared to hit the library again. Though he’d already spent an unknown amount of time there, none of the literature on visions seemed of much help. There were at least a dozen scenarios that seemingly applied, but something about all of them felt inherently wrong. The inexplicable emotions attached to the seemingly nonsensical sight had been another annoying factor. It had brought him on a detour to Draxum’s apartment the last time he was out and there he found little more than tepid curiosity from the yokai.

Fiddling with other abandoned projects, Donnie grimaced as he caught sight at a digital readout that noted the date. It had been almost five useless wheel spinning days since the food truck debacle. It hadn’t been a constant, he had the years of experience to know that nonstop research rarely amounted to much, but good night’s sleeps and meals hadn’t brought their usual fresh clarity. Flicking a lose wire, Donnie pulled a half constructed surveillance bot out from under scattered blueprints. He had unconscious timetables for things of this nature. They had a neat little file folder that sat in the back of his mind, labeled for future reference. Whatever he had seen in the park was simply something he didn’t have the current tools to crack. He didn’t consider it a loss, but instead a project to be explored at a later date. His ever expanding intellect acted as a means. He’d eventually create some new technology that would inevitably solve his dilemma.

Satisfied, Donnie reached across the table to grab a screwdriver. The instrument was almost underhand when a wash of green swaying grass appeared where a workbench had been. Recoiling on instinct, he took a few steps back and found himself in his lab just as he had been. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to check his eyesight, Donnie hunkered down. He became very keenly aware of the hum of the overhead lights and the multiple running processors. Not ready to brush the hallucination off, he turned and reached across the short expanses to his computer’s keyboard. A few swapped windows found he had only been awake nine hours with an average amount of sleep achieved prior to that. There was no cause to question his sanity, but still he frowned.

“Hello?”

There was always a chance it was a joke or even some villain’s ploy, but all of his trained senses said he was certainly alone. Giving a long moment for anyone to reveal themselves, Donnie gave himself a little shake to get his blood flowing before deciding to return to his bot once again. Turning back to the workbench, he stiffened as his lifted foot came down on a lush field. This time when he drew back, the greenery didn’t disappear. Spinning rapidly, he found the landscape stretched on endlessly in all directions. His blood pressure bottoming out, Donnie tossed his head up and squinted directly at the gently beaming sun overhead. It warmed his skin and he brought an arm up to chase the sensation. Everything about this felt real, but so did Hypno’s more ridiculous spells.

“You forgot the brainwashing part!” Donnie gripped, slowly rotating to find any sign of a culprit. Reaching onto his person, he cursed as he found that while his wraps were still in place, both his battleshell and tech-bō were left charging on ports that seemingly no longer existed. Feeling very exposed, he readied his stance and waited as only a shallow breeze caressed his cheek.

It took what felt like several long minutes before he dropped his shoulders with irritation. “So, just nothing? Seriously?”

Only the rustling of grasses responded.

Bored, Donnie took several strides forward before looking back to find any plants he crushed underfoot seemed unaffected. The scientist in him reared its head as he purposely stomped. Each step would press down on the greenery, but as soon as he lifted off, they sprang back up in time. It was like a video game with little finesse. Crouching down, he made an attempt to pull the plants from the ground. A faint ring of laughter echoed from the skies above. Donnie jolted to his feet from where he had just wrapped his hands around a fistful of grass. Scanning wildly, he spied the figure of a black haired man in the far distance toward where he had just come. Staring, he reminded himself that he had definitely looked there previously and found nothing. A tingling sensation tickled the back of his neck. Craning an arm to rub at the spot, Donnie slowly started to approach the man.

“Hey!” Calling out, the man didn’t react and instead was staring at the sky above. At a distance where he couldn’t make out any facial features, he watched as the man swayed as if he were locked in some intense conversation. Shouting again, Donnie felt the tickling spread down his arms. It sent a fear response through his spine so he picked up the pace. Eyes locked on the figure, he narrowed his gaze as he didn’t seem to be getting any closer. With each passing stride, his limbs felt both heavier and lighter. He dropped his center of gravity to make a jump, but found that pushing off barely sent him more than a foot off the ground.

Knowing he had far more power than that, Donnie scowled as when he was about to search his person for the cause, he noticed the man slowly lose his opacity. Flexing his fingers, he felt a longing pull to gaze at his hand. Refusing to look away, he could sense his brain sending signals to his legs to keep running, but it didn’t feel like the action was being carried out. The man still loomed on the horizon, now looking down at his limbs as Donnie had just felt the call to. It felt like déjà vu and so much more.

Pushing so hard, Donnie could feel the veins in his neck grow taunt, he felt a whiplash sensation as all the ground he never covered suddenly rushed around him. Eyes unable to focus at the intense speed, he soared until his limp form was brought right up to the man; only the faintest traces of him could be seen. Only able to see the man's back, Donnie watched as his own hand came into view as he reached out to the now phantom. The figure disappeared just as a green hand had made contact with it and overhead buzz of lab lighting rushed into his ears.

“You aren’t going to give up are you? You finally almost had your chance.”

Gasping, Donnie jolted upright and found he was laying on the floor. Resisting the urge to scream, he scrambled to his feet. “Analysis! Scan the lab for intruders and playback the last 15 minutes!” Donnie rounded on his monitor and watched himself walk up to his workbench. After a few moments, he ran through pulling out the surveillance bot and recoiling at nothing. Grimacing until his lip pulled away from his teeth, he felt a cold chill as he watched tangible proof that there hadn’t been anything there. Dread reared its head as he watched as past him decided to table the issue and return to work. The footage changed from his memory as he watched himself collapse to the floor of the lab instead. Leaning in close to study the image for signs of seizure, he instead found his past self’s expression twist as he presumably ran through the dream-like state.

As the footage caught up to the present, Donnie swapped screens for the scan. There was no one else present. Brow coming down, he restarted the recording and watched as inevitably his past self mouthed the questions to the lab. The silence of the footage caught him and he quickly turned the volume up on his computer where he had at some point muted it. Starting the footage over once more, he stared numbly as he listened to himself question the empty air. He heard the thump of a crumpled body smacking onto concrete and then, just as his past self awoke, he heard a garbled statement. His head nearly bobbed as he rolled the footage back just a few seconds to hear the sound again. It was useless crunchy audio so he brought up a program to isolate it. Passing it through filter after adjustment, he could just barely make out a question about giving up and a chance.

Chewing on his lower lip, Donnie collapsed in his chair and set the still barely understandable audio on loop. It’s distorted sound had an odd rhythm to it that brought his lids down. Donnie let it echo as he recalled the only close up image he had gotten of the man in the field. Trying to recall as much detail he could about the person, a flash of a beak biting down into mochi appeared.

“Koi.” The syllable hit Donnie’s ears and took several moments before he was able to acknowledge it was his own. As registration occurred, he shot forward. His fingers flew across his keyboard and the measured  hammering filled the air.

-

“Help me explain to the others that I need to find a single person in a city of almost 9 million people!”

From where Mikey was balanced on one toe atop a precarious several foot tall stack of knickknacks, the younger brother opened a single eye. “What?”

“Look-” Donnie shuffled in from the doorway of Mikey’s room, trailing continuous stationary with hundreds of lines of little black print on it. “I don’t know how to explain this. I guess it’s a mystic thing, so you would understand best! I need to find someone and I need to explain to the others because I need help.”

Shifting his weight, Mikey hopped off the stack and landed beside his brother only to have the pile crash to the ground as soon as he came up. “Dang…”

“I’ll help you rebuild it.” Donnie offered the sentiment along with a sheet of paper.

Mikey took it and read over the list of names. “Is this what you’ve been working on?”

“No. Yes. It’s not important.”

“Donnie…” Mikey warned, letting the page loosen in his hands.

“None of this mystic stuff ever makes sense!” Donnie reeled, trying to pull up the rest of the pages up and finally realizing he had been leaving a breadcrumb trail of them behind.

“I would say mysterious ways, but I don’t think that’s gonna be much help now.” Mikey rounded his older brother and started to collect the paper. “Maybe take a breath and try telling me what happened?”

Donnie groaned loudly before relenting. By the time Mikey had stacked all the paper back up neatly, Donnie had just mentioned the ominous carp phrase that had come off his lips. “-so I pulled surveillance from the area the day of Meat Sweats' attack and this is the culmination of identified persons who were waiting in line at the food trucks.”

“This many!?” Mikey ran a thumb through the pages.

“I was able to narrow it down to about 1000 people hence why I need-”

“The help.” Mikey winced.

“Interrupting, but correct.” Donnie sighed.

“Who do you think the mystery person is?”

“I have no idea, but they chose the wrong person to reach out to. Everyone should know apathy is my specialty.” Tilting his head to one side, Donnie put on his carefully curated aloof visage.

“Maybe it’s because they knew you’d have the tech to find them?” Mikey stared down at the first page with a furrowed brow.

“That’s as good a guess as any at this point.” Donnie shrugged and reached out.

Mikey catching wind of what was happening and handed over the top half of the stack. “Are they in danger? Cause this is uh… gonna take awhile?”

Shaking his head, Donnie looked down from the pages in hand to where they were still connected to the ones in Mikey’s.

Coming up to view the younger, Donnie watched as something occurred to Mikey and he set his portion on the floor. He then cascaded around his room in a sorting flurry with craft supplies flying around his wake. When he returned he had a slew of highlighters and plopped down cross-legged in front of his stack and started marking. “Let’s color coordinate by the boroughs!”

Donnie sat down as well and took an offered green highlighter from Mikey.

“That’ll be Manhattan.”

Nodding, the two flipped through the pages with only the soft scrap of pen to paper sounding in the room. After making substantial progress, Mikey blinked up to spy on his brother.

“Feeling a little calmer?”

“I knew what you were doing.” Donnie smirked and didn't look away from his work.

“You’re gonna have to pull the ‘trust me on this’ card.”

“Ugh, can’t you play into your skills? Say something like you found someone’s personal effect and you are in dire need of returning it!”

“Donnie.”

Donnie chewed the inside of his cheek and flipped over to a new line of names.

“You said there was a recording?”

Perking up only slightly, Donnie brought his cuff up and played the audio.

Mikey closed his eyes and leaned in close with a turned ear to the sound. Donnie replayed it several times before the younger brother’s eyes flew open. “Fate.”

“What?” Donnie soured, turning the sound bite off.

“’You finally almost had your chance!’”

Eyes blinking wide, Donnie slammed a finger to play the clip one more time. “You understood it?!”

“Only that last part.” Mikey hummed before taking a deep breath. “Oh man, why didn’t I think of it sooner?! You have fate stink all over you!”

“I most assuredly do not!” Donnie hissed, retrieving his highlight as a mock sword.

“A fated chance!”Mikey crooned, his excitement taking him to his feet. “You missed them before, but when?” Switching gears from romanticized cheer to curiosity, the younger brought an uncapped red highlighter dangerously close to his chin in thought.

“Only 20 years to sift through.” Donnie made a show of rolling his eyes and marking another name.

“Only…” Mikey mouthed before tapping the pen nib to his cheek. “Or more...”

“More, sure.” Not dismissing with a barb, but instead out of distraction, Donnie reached out and grabbed a discarded purple highlighter to continue working.

“A vision… A otherworldly voice… a destined meeting….” Taking counting steps, Mikey’s footfalls echoed loudly. “Uh duh!!!”

The sound brought Donnie’s head up and he watched his younger brother scrub his hands over his face.

“It’s gotta be your soulmate!!!”

Donnie dropped his jaw in disgust at both the sentence and the red lines that now smeared across Mikey’s face.

“Don’t give me that look! You were just trying to get me to act out some kinda romcom trope to trick our brothers!” Mikey turned and pointed the highlighter right at his brother.

Affronted, Donnie looked away nervously.

“Ha! Got you! Which movie was it?” Mikey chirped, dropping down to his knees in his original spot.  

Before Donnie could open his mouth, a different voice floated in.

“We watching a movie?” Leo leaned languidly in the door frame before busting out laughing. “You look like if I went through a wash cycle and you know I’m dry clean only!!”

“Who? Donnie?” Mikey pondered, rapidly looking between the pair.

Donnie rolled his eyes. “We are not watching a movie, Mikey is helping me with some important work-”

“We’re narrowing down the list for Donnie’s soulmate!” Mikey nearly sang.

Leo who had almost recovered from his first bout of laughter broke down again.

“Mikey!” Donnie seethed, squeezing his two highlighters with bareful force.

The sounds of the blue brother wheezing seemed to summon Raph, who looked over each part of the scene curiously.

“What? You wanted my help and honesty is the best policy!” Mikey folded his arms, streaking red across his left bicep in the process.

“The cap!” Donnie screeched, grabbing said red hunk of plastic and throwing it right into Mikey’s forehead. “And you-!” Spinning around, Donnie launched the blue highlighter at Leo’s hacking form.

“Guys, we ain’t 10 anymore. Don’t throw art supplies…” Raph sighed, sidestepping Leo who only laughed harder at the implement thrown at him. “What’s going on?”

“Do-” Leo gapsed for air.

“Wait, did I get marker on me?” Finally capping the pen, Mikey examined his right arm carefully.

“Don-” Leo crawled forward.

“The other one.” Raph offered before looking around.

Donnie took a deep breath. “Glossing over the fact that I specifically asked you to help me ‘convince them’ and not just ‘tell them outright,’ you think you could have, I don’t know, called a meeting or something!?”

“We always have each other’s backs!” Mikey protested, still examining the wrong arm. 

“Scoff doesn’t even begin to label my response to that!” Donnie reeled with annoyance.

Locating a box of tissues, Raph walked it over to Mikey. “Right arm and your whole face.”

“Oh!!!” Mikey crooned as if it were an epiphany. He then snatched a tissue and buried his nose into it.

“Donnie!” Leo finally managed both a word and to reach said brother.

“What?” Donnie responded flatly, hands ready to push him away at any moment.

“Did...” Leo sucked down another gulp of oxygen before laying himself out as if he were the picture of poise. “…you print out your online dating matches off some nerd website? Connect with local eggheads in your area?”

Raph moved first, but he wasn’t close enough as Donnie wrapped his hands around Leo’s throat. The three scuffled and Mikey stood up in an unhurried fashion. The youngest then took the orange highlighter and flicked the cap off with one hand. He smeared war paint on each of his cheeks and then tossed the marker aside. Planting his feet, he then flexed at his knees a few times and then breathed deeply.

“HOLD IT!!!”

The other three froze mid-fight with Donnie on Raph’s back clawing at Leo who was being held out by his arm pits at Raph’s front.

They watched as Mikey momentarily scrambled away, only to return wearing an orange helmet. “Sit!”

With a honed exchange of vicious glances, the other three brothers took to a line on the floor.

“As the resident mystic master, this is my domain. Now Donnie has been mystically chosen to find someone. I will not admit to jumping the gun because I do think it’s his soulmate, but I guess we don’t know that for sure.” Mikey shot Donnie a quick wink and then resumed his authoritative demonstration. “We are gonna help our dear brother out and-” He threw out a finger to the forgotten stack of pages. “-Narrow down this list because that’s what fate wants!”

Silence held for a moment before Raph looked to Donnie and then Leo flanking him on either side. Donnie pouted and sulked into himself while Leo looked on with growing confusion. Bringing his gaze back to Mikey, Raph raised his hand.

“Yes!” Mikey swooped his digit to point at the eldest.

“What the heck are we talking about?”

“Well, you see-” Donnie started, scotching forward at the chance to drop an explanation.

“Wait, I wanna tell it this time!” Mikey hopped forward a few eager steps.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense if I-” Donnie made out before Mikey came in close enough to press that same outstretched finger to his brother’s lips.

“It all started the day of the food truck meet up…!” Mikey threw out his other hand as if painting a picture.

-

“So…” Leo drew out the syllable in a manner that mimicked the last three days.

Perched in various trees, the brothers overlooked a gentleman sitting on a park bench. After an agonizing afternoon of back and forths over the purpose of the visions, Donnie was at his wit’s end. When he thought they finally understood at least that much, he’d let it slip how long he’d been studying the query which then triggered the annoyed protests of a week leaving them out of the loop. Disorganization followed before a plan was set. In a bit of cosmic cruelty, their first outing ended in them not able to locate a single person on their first list. The city that never sleeps earned its reputation as the four learned the hard way that an address does not always mean someone is home. The others had also annoyingly stopped him from activating a tracking network on all potential suspects. Invasion of privacy extended only to what was available in a phone book even though his argument that he’d already hacked surveillance cameras was more than sturdy enough. Still, he needed the help so he agreed. He just might go ahead and stumble upon more data if this night were to end in another failure.

“That’s him…” Mikey hummed checking his phone. “Number 23!”

Nerves oddly waning, Donnie gazed at the man through his goggles. A slew of tagging data appeared along with a telltale checkmark. “Correct.”

“That’s obvious, hermano. Didn’t you hear me before?” Leo huffed.

“We can always hear you, Leo.” Raph gave his brother a cheeky smile.

Leo played up his offense at the statement before smiling out of it. “I meant more what do we do now? Should he like glow or something when he comes in contact with D?”

Hearing the approximation of his name, Donnie flicked his head so his goggles snapped into their upright position. He frowned slightly and stared down at the man who seemed fatigued. The distance between them felt like miles of desert. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s ok to be worried…” Mikey dropped both his voice and body to Donnie’s branch. “It’s the first one.”

“Just think of him as some guy!” Leo added, kicking his legs. “The mystic connection thing will happen or not.”

“If it’s like our powers, it’s something we need to activate though.” Raph brought a corner of his mouth up in thought.

“Good point.” Leo closed his eyes in mock thought.

“Might as well talk to him in the meantime.” Mikey urged.

“We’re still mutant turtles. Am I going to just expose myself to 1000 people?” Donnie looked at Mikey’s out stretched hand with ever chasmed worry.  He wasn’t sure if he said that because it was a good point or because his brain was scrambling at the prospects of this grossly uncharted territory.

“Ehhh…” Leo hissed through clenched teeth.

“Well…” Raph started and stopped. “They already saw us.”

“Yeah?” Mikey rolled on the branch causing Donnie to clutch on for dear life.

“These are all people from the food truck thing, right? They saw us save them.” Raph pointed downward to Mikey.

“Yeah!” Mikey tittered, shaking the branch more.

Leaves sprinkled down and Donnie wished he wasn’t already on thin mental ice. “That doesn’t mean they’ll be friendly. The amount of people who have watched us save their actual lives and still mix up which mutant side we were on has been astonishing.”

Leo stood up on his branch and walked toward the base. The other brothers stopped to watch his movements. “Well… you know how this goes…”

Donnie felt his stomach bottom out. Fight or flight kicked in and he slammed a hand to the tree in a desperate attempt to get to his feet. He watched as Mikey, already well balanced, shot away and a flash of a blade cut the limb free from its wooden attachment. Donnie stifled a yelp as he careened down and just barely managed to land on his feet before the downed branch bumped him. His momentum toppled and he landed in a bush with a resounding thud. Groaning off the fall, Donnie popped up to yell at his brother only to hear a timid voice instead.

“Uh… Y-you ok?”

Staring at the man who looked back at him with a similar owlish expression, Donnie glanced in the trees to find all his brothers now missing. Bringing his gaze back to the stranger, Donnie gave a fake grin and forced an awkward foot forward out of the shrubbery. “Yes, I’m fine. I apologize for…” He cursed himself as he’d already mostly walked into the Leo-level joke. “…dropping in on you like this.”

The man’s wide eyes dropped slightly.

“You see I was just-”

“I’ve seen you!” The man animated, the surprise taking him out of his seat.

“Yes-”

“You saved me from getting burned!” The man shot forward and Donnie barely resisted the urge to step back. Before the mutant could register what was happening, his hand was taken and being shook at a furious level. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re… welcome…?” Donnie staggered, the whole exchange leaving him empty. He watched as the man’s hand retracted from his own and there was a ghostly cold left in its wake. There was no scientific basis for it, but every one of his senses was telling him that this wasn’t the right person. All the ever-present dread evaporated as his usual sureness flooded in.

“Is there anything I can do for you? Did something happen? Do you need me to ID the guy!? He was a pig!” The man seemed to get progressively more excited.

“Not at all.” Donnie raised a hand to stop him and the gesture seemed to work. “I am simply… conducting a survey. How would you rate my heroic experience? ‘Very satisfied, very, very satisfied, extremely satisfied?’”

The man thought on this very hard before looking up. “Just very. It was fine, but the aftermath sucked because I never got any food.”

Donnie grimaced. “And how is that my fault?”

The man rebuffed the indignity with one of his own. “I don’t know. You’re the hero! Sure, you saved me, but you could stick around for clean up more!”           

“That’s-” Donnie sneered. “We’re vigilantes! It’s illegal!”

“Nobody asked you to act outside the law.” The man shrugged, stepping back.

“You would literally be a battered if it weren’t for me!” Donnie seethed.

“I think I could have managed.” The man shrugged.

“Alright, alright!” Leo dropped down on the other side of the man. “We got his… response or whatever, time to go!”

The man gaped at Leo openly and then pointed. “You…”

“Yes, go on! More thank yous are in order?” Leo flicked his mask tails and waited for his praise.

“You’re the one that ran away with that other useless orange one!” The man gawked.

“Ran-!?” Leo seized up.

“Useless!?” Mikey’s voice echoed somewhere in the distance.

“Enough!” Raph dropped down behind Leo long enough to wrap an arm around him before shooting forward to snatch Donnie. “Thank you for your time, sir. Have an… ok day and maybe be less rude next time!” He parted the man with a final wave before soaring off back into the trees.

“Can you believe the nerve!?” Leo stewed as trunks flew around them.

“Let’s just-” Raph started as Mikey came into view and he dropped down beside him, depositing the other brothers. “He’s a jerk; people can be jerks!”

“Ungrateful!” Leo barked, storming in a small circle.

“Ingrate.” Donnie corrected, shaking his head free of the situation.

“Tell me he’s not your person?!” Leo looked to Donnie with pleading eyes before sweeping them to the left and talking out the side of his mouth. “Though he does match your personality.”

Donnie seized up for a moment before forcing the irritation out in one quick tensing of muscles. “No, he’s not my person.” Even with the exercise in restraint, the phrase still came out from beneath clenched teeth.

“Was there like a sign?” Mikey wondered, stepping forward to examine Donnie.

Donnie evaluated the youngest evenly for a moment before watching over the reel of the interaction again. He looked down at his hand and almost thought he saw an apparition of a translucent one over it. Turning the green appendage over, he seemed to remember his brother’s presence and looked up. “I think… I need to touch them?”

“That helps. So we got something to go off of!” Raph nodded, staring down at Donnie’s hand.

“You could probably get away with a little New York bump here and there instead of having to chat each person up.” Mikey bobbed with excitement.

“It’ll be a little touch and go for awhile, but at least we’ll be able to knock out the list!” Leo leaned forward with a bright smile.

The other brothers stood caught for a second before Donnie dispelled it. “Alright then, gentlemen! Shall we continue?” Tapping his cuff, he brought up a digital display of the list and the others crouched in close to see.

-

He had fulfilled his touch quota for a lifetime.

Donnie assumed he looked the definition of haggard, but couldn’t find the strength to glimpse himself in a mirror, front facing camera, or any of the like.

The past month had been an agonizing exercise in trials and tribulations. If he ever had so much of an inkling to take the most inane sample audience and test them against one of the most unknown variables of all time again, he now knew for a fact that he would take dip in a vat of slugs instead. Dragging a hand over his worn face, Donnie tried to force himself upright. The table he collapsed against wasn’t inviting in the slightest, but his plastron didn’t seem to care. Sighing, he relented and keeled over until his face pressed against the surface as well. There was a faint trace of stickiness that made his skin crawl, but even then he couldn’t bring himself to adjust. Instead he laid his arm cuff in front of his eyes and pressed the display on with his nose. It slowly ran a calculated cycle through the hundreds of red checkmarks that signified each and every failure. It was the digital count of exactly 1037 New Yorkers that were not this fabled person.

Groaning until the screen went to sleep, Donnie gave a slow blink. He could see the cycling of the different categories of people he had been forced to interact with. There was a good portion that fell under the header that Leo had frustratingly been able to make stick as the ‘touch and gos.’ They were the cleanest bunch data-wise by far in that he’d been able to tap them in passing and move on. Donnie had almost refined his technique to the point that he considered himself the candidate for a great life in pickpocketing were that something he’d want to cultivate. It had also helped, for once, that his brothers had made it into a game. They silently bet on whether or not a target would take notice as they were tapped in passing on the street. It was a nice little bolster to Donnie’s ego, not that he’d admit it.

From there, were the slew of typical New York talk-backs. They’d feel the touch and gripe loudly about it in a stereotypical confrontational manner. Donnie’s reactions depended on his mood. Either way he’d end up exercising a gross misuse of his skills whether it was to disappear without a trace or let off a little steam in a quick show of strength. His brother’s opinions on those interactions broke apart in a lazy divide.

After that came those who had to be creatively handled. They were a subset of persons that rarely allowed themselves open interaction on the street. It had been a fun utilization of Donnie’s costumed wardrobe that he rarely got to pedal out. In a play of sorts, he’d assumed the role of everything from bodega clerk to a businessman. There had been another split amongst the peanut gallery, but this time it was more for Donnie’s performance and less about the morality of his actions. The acting portion had been more of a distraction to the task at hand, but as time had worn on, it was almost necessary.

Though his brother’s would deny it until their last breath, Donnie saw that they were exhausted with the mystery. They vehemently stayed by his side out of a obligation he understood; if it was any of them that were cursed to find some person who was mystically calling out, he’d want to be right there whenever the exchange finally occurred. They had been through too much together to not worry about what could be any of a million outcomes.  Still, filtering through a thousand people while also still maintaining their protectors of New York status stole away almost all their free time. When they’d checked the final person off in the wee hours of this same morning and found it to be another failure, the drop in morale had been palpable. Donnie loved them unquestionably, but watching the mixture of reactions from Raph’s weary pity to Mikey’s near tears was something he wished he could have shooed them off from. It was Leo’s look especially that still haunted Donnie; that let down of what should have been something of a Holmesian fallacy, but there was just a shred in Leo’s eyes that doubted the whole thing. If Donnie were in his brother’s place, he knew he’d feel the same. This intangible haunting occurring was something he’d love to write off too. Unfortunately, in addition to the ghostly reminder, there was this  inexplicable ache in his chest that he had yet to solve.

In the end, Leo had called for a temporary parting to give Donnie his space. It had stung in its own way even if he had been about to ask for it. They all had heavy bags darkening their eyes and the weight of the supposedly loss was excruciating. All the time sunk with no apparent cost in sight. In another slow blink, he saw flickers of how he assumed they were. Mikey was presumably conked out after making breakfast for the others. Raph was either mediatating or in bed himself and Donnie just knew Leo was doing his own research. It had been something he’d caught an inkling of about halfway through the list. Leo seemed to know a little more about the target then the manifest noted. Donnie could almost laugh at the double standard. Leo was surely breaking some kind of law to get his information. Frowning, it was another similarity between the two had the shoe been on the other foot.

Bringing his lids up, the futility of the whole thing hung around Donnie’s neck like a noose. He wondered if he tried to file the problem away again if that mysterious entity would fling him back to that strange field. He’d idly tried to place it one sleepless morning, but they were indistinct grasses native to so many Asian regions that it left him with an exhaustive search area. It didn’t quite feel ethereal either and he didn’t want to begin to count the options if mystic realms were involved. Donnie debated the lesser of two evils between ignoring the headings of a mystic entity or asking Leo for help when between blinks a to-go coffee cup appeared between his face and his arm. The generic cup’s pale appearance was just jarring enough that it brought his head up.

“Sorry, um…!”

Giving the cup one last linger glance, he dragged his eye line up to the source of the voice.

You jolted as eye contact was established. “…How do I say this?”

He arched a brow.

“You looked like you needed a pick me up!” Your body bobbed as you brought your fists up in weak assurance.

You weren’t wrong. Donnie looked back down to the drink. He had almost forgotten he had wandered into a coffee shop in his defeated stupor earlier. It was surprising no one had thrown him out sooner. He had basically been darkening this corner spot for what felt like hours without purchasing anything.

“It’s just drip, but if you don’t like that I can get you something else.”

What an attentive stranger. Swinging his gaze back up, he evaluated you closely. You didn’t seem to work here, so you weren’t taking pity on him in that sense. Instead you looked a sort of put together version of someone who rolled out of bed. It was early, there were any number of possibilities for your attendance. “What roast?”

That probably wasn’t the kindest thing to say to someone who just bought you a drink.

“House…?” You straightened your back and tried to hide the way you looked out of the corner of your eye to catch a glimpse of the menu board.

Donnie chuckled. “That should be fine. Thank you.”

Turning and confirming to himself that the interaction was saved, Donnie palmed the coffee. Through the sleeve, the warmth tickled at his palm. He almost smiled as he brought it to his lips and took a sip. It was just a touch burnt, but it went down smooth enough that his shoulders relaxed. Staring out the window at those passing by, he noted that his emotional bar had ticked a little bit closer to neutral. That was as much as he could ask for with the looming preparations for a whole new set of search criteria. Who was he if he gave up against insurmountable odds? That was just every other day for him. Eyes drifting shut, he thought on how much a few sips of caffeine had affected him and how food would surely compound the effect.  

“Of course, you’re busy… or tired…”

You were still here; that was odd. Against his lids protest, Donnie opened his eyes again. Though blurry, he instantly made out a hand reaching towards his cup. His nerves tried to seize up, but it was too late. He really was off his game.

“I just wanted to thank you. Have a good day.”

He watched as your hand finally made it through the motions and gave the back of his the slightest brush with your fingertips.

Donnie wasn’t even sure he blinked when he felt the oddly familiar rush.

“Something this good should be savored!” Doremi threw up their chin, moonlight gleaming ethereal as their hair flittered around the motion.

“So it was good?” Shion looked down at his threaded hands to keep from staring any longer. He smiled to himself as the image had indeed burned itself into his mind.

“Of course, I mean, you got it for me!”

Coming out of the vision, Donnie spun out of his stool so fast his knees harshly slammed into the underside of the table. The sound was loud enough that several people looked on curiously as he watched you push open the café door. “Wait!!!”

You slowed, one foot still lifted.

Against stinging limbs, Donnie freed himself from his seat and staggered over. “It’s you!”

“Yeah?” You wondered, your brows traveling as far north as possible.

“You! I found you! Well you found me, but-” The feeling was overwhelming; he felt a thousand fireworks go off in his chest and it translated down his appendages. The radiating excitement converted into kinetic energy and before he could register what he was doing he scooped you up. You squealed at the motion and he sort of registered something falling to the floor as he spun you around.

“Stop! What!?” He could feel your protesting and finally the action caught up with his mind.

“Oh.” He set you down and surveyed the damage. It was your coffee that had been knocked to the ground and it’s leaking contents soaked through the pastry bag lying in its wake. Coming up with a sheepish bob of his shoulders, he noted the confused fear scrunched up in your features and body language.

That was certainly the right reaction to what just happened.

“I know how this looks…” He began.

“You-” You choked on the sound as an employee headed towards you.

Donnie watched you catch sight of them and then the unmistakable glance you then made to the door.

You weren’t on the list.

You were about to leave.

“Please.” He resisted the urge to step further into your space and trigger any more discomfort. “I know that was erratic and uncalled for, but there’s…” He trailed off realizing that he had no way of trying to explain to what was presumably a regular New Yorker something he barely understood himself. He shook the thought off and pleaded with his gaze. “I can’t explain it, but if you wouldn’t mind sparing some of your time. I’ll buy you another coffee and whatever else it is that I accidentally ruined… Just… If you could?”

Still curled in a defensive position you scanned his gaze for a long moment then took in his body language.

The employee appeared with a miniature mop cart. “Hey, you two alright?”  

Donnie swallowed hard in an attempt to keep himself from taking control of the situation. He’d already crossed a line and, though it pained him to no end, he needed you to decide.

Your brows came together as you debated and you knealt down to pick up the cup. “Sorry about this.”

Donnie could feel his chest tightening as the employee clearly took note that their question was dodged.

“It’s alright. We have spills all the time.” The employee ducked down near you and though they dropped their voice, his ears still picked up what was said next. “Are you ok? I can stall him if you need to leave.”

The part of indignity it served him was harshly undercut but how much he deserved that. Stepping back to give the two more breadth, Donnie glanced at his forgotten coffee.

“I’m… alright actually. Thanks for your help.”

That vibrating excitement returned, but this time Donnie shoved it all the way down to his feet. He kept his chin stiffly set in its turn so as not to alert you that he was listening in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you rise up and give him a look that said you knew regardless.

“If you need anything else, I’ll be at the counter when I finish up here. How about  a replacement?”  The employee discarded the trash and moved to prepare the mop with a placed sign.

“That’s alright. He’s got it.” You tipped your head, pointedly staring at Donnie.

“Yes.” He hoped the excitement in his voice was kept to a decent level. “Order whatever you want.”

You moved back to the counter and he followed behind making sure to maintain a safety bubble of distance. You ordered and with a sly look added on a breakfast sandwich that could not have fit in the bag he saw. He could appreciate that you took advantage of the situation.

“You should get something to eat too.” You noted, giving him a flicking once over.

“Can we saw low blood sugar is to blame?” He bobbed his head at you before turning to the cashier. “I’ll have one of the same.”

“Not a chance.” You hummed and watched as he paid. You both traveled back to where he had been sitting at the window and slipped onto the stools facing one another.

Palming his lukewarm coffee, Donnie chose to drink the liquid with only a minor sneer.

“So… Did you mistake me for someone else or…?” You craned an elbow to the table and rested your cheek against your hand in lazy wait.

He forced the kickback burn of his drink down and chased it with a gulp of oxygen. “Something like that?”  He followed it up with a wincing smile.

You seemed less than enthused.

“I want to explain, trust me, but it is…” He looked between the cup and you before setting it down. “You can trust me when I say it’s a complicated ordeal.”

You softened up a bit. “I guess that comes with the mutant hero territory?”

“Very much so.” He nodded approvingly.

You gave your own nod and the silence laid over the moment like a blanket.

With part of his mind still trying to find a suitable explanation for the mystic events, Donnie set a little processing power to some of the other unknowns from this chance meeting. “You said you wanted to thank me?”

“Oh… Yeah…” You tightened up in your stool and your arm fell from your face. “I was… uh…”

“At the food truck event?” He offered, using a sip from the cup as a means to hide his curiosity.

You snapped to attention. “Do you remember me from there?”

“Sadly, no.”

“But you-?”

“Order up!”

You both moved to get it, but you raised your hand. “Let me.”

Donnie nodded and watched as you slipped off your stool. You grappled slightly with the multitude of bags and to-go cup, but managed the handful and brought it back over. As if laying out a bounty, he smiled as you lined everything up and then slid his wrapped sandwich over like it was a payment for some misdeed.

“There were a lot of people there that day.” Donnie remarked as he picked at a sticker sealing the wrapping.

“It was crazy.” You huffed, taking a swig from your cup. “All that oil!”

“Which truck were you trying to order from?” Finally freeing his sandwich, he surveyed it before taking a handful. How you had fallen through the cracks of his pristine list making reared its head as an assaulting high priority.

“None of them!” You chuckled, mimicking his move with your food.

He froze, mouth still open from the bite he was about to take. “Then how?”

“How…?” You lead, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you kept your attention on your sandwich.

His lips made a thin line. “How were you there? Where were you?”

“Where was the event held?”

Your sudden airy attitude irked him. “In a plaza by the park.”

You nodded and took your first bite.

He watched you chew and then lolled his head back as he realized. “You were in the park.”

“Bingo.” You pointed at him with one finger that popped up from the bread.

“Where Meat Sweats was tossed into.” Donnie grumbled, vexation growing. “The park! Why didn’t I add that to my calculations!? It’s so obvious!”

He could feel amusement pouring off of you as you continued your meal.

Remembering his own, Donnie took a bitter bite of his sandwich. He paused as the flavors hit his tongue and with each subsequent chew his anger slowly dissipated. His earlier food assessment had been correct at least. He needed a little win.

“Calculations, ‘I found you,’ ‘sadly, no.’” You listed off before taking a sip of coffee.

Donnie stiffened as he realized where you were going.

“Think of a way to explain it yet?” You turned to him finally. “Why you were looking for me?”

He absolutely did not.

“You won’t believe me.” He left the last half of his sandwich and turned to you in show of opening up. “I still don’t quite understand.”

“You know…” You trailed off and gave a lingering glance to the window. “I have the day off. I think I have time for a crazy story.” You turned back to him with a bright smile.

For a moment, Donnie swore he saw gigantic golden eyes. It immediately disappeared, but spurned him to sink down in his stool. “If you insist…”

He went on to explain the past month leaving out very little detail as the story went on because the treading emotions crested as he recounted them. He had heard tale of how easy it could be to share a secret with a strange and while that rung true to a point, part of him intrinsically felt like he knew you. He also couldn’t shake the unmistakable flicker of joy in watching you. It stemmed from some deep recess of his psyche in a way that almost felt foreign. An never-ending line of people came and went with their orders. At some point you broke out a muffin and nibbled on it. Cups were drained and new ones were ordered by the time he caught up to the present.

Setting down your second cup, you had a haggard look on your eye. “That…”

“Yeah.” Donnie commiserated, sipping a fresh coffee.

“It’s a lot…” You swallowed hard.

“Yeah.” Setting his cup down, his eye chased it.

He wouldn’t blame you if you left now. At least he had gotten his chance.

In his periphery he watched you shake your head before bringing an arm up. It raked through your hair and stayed atop your head as you weighed the hefty connotations. The stretch pulled at your t-shirt and he caught a glimpse of a bit of color.

That little flicker exploded into a full blown flame.

“What’s that?” He pointed, glad he’d had freed his hands up.

“What’s what?” You murmured beside your arm. You followed his eye line and strained to see from your awkward angle. “Oh!” Finally bringing the limb down, you turned it towards him and rolled up your sleeve. “It’s my tattoo!”

His tongue went dry.

Skirting along your shoulder, a orange and white koi fish swam freely from somewhere behind your back and down your arm. Little droplets of water punctuated it’s lazy trek and shimmering scales reflecting in fine needlework.

A single chuckle escaped his lips.

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve always liked koi. I don’t know what it is, you know?”

Another single chortle.

“Woah! You ok?”

A few more dribbled bits of laughter came off his lips before the wetness chased them. Bringing a hand up, he touched the tears and could feel they weren’t his. As that recessed emotions gained form, he could feel someone else. They were both him and not at the same time. Their joy was so overwhelming. The crashing sensation brought forth more laughter to him. He wrapped his hands around his plastron to keep himself together. It wasn’t that he thought he was splitting, but it felt like there was too much inside for one body to contain. Outright sobbing and uncontrollably cackling, Donnie felt his consciousness pulled deep inside. In a dark space, his body seemed to free float and he watched that translucent man from the field appeared with a smile and tears on his own face. It was the first time Donnie had seen him so clearly, but at the same time he felt as though he'd always known. He gave Donnie a single nod before reality crashed back around him.

Donnie looked up through bleary eyes to find you had one hand on his shoulder and the other at his cheek.

He leaned your palm and tapered off the giggles until they formed a bright smile.

Mikey was right.

He’d have to tell him that later.

He’d have to tell them all about their fates later.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah…?” You seemed pale and confused.

In this reality that made sense.

You couldn’t know.

At least, that wasn’t part of the deal.

Right?

“Can I ask you something that’s going to sound ridiculous?”

“I… guess?” Your voice peaked with frazzled worry.

“Have you ever wanted to eat koi?”

Your first reaction was to shake your head into a rollback of confusion.

Then there was a spark.

A blink and he would have missed it moment where something seemed to click; a hue of gold appeared to spin in your iris before disappeared. A single tear ran down your cheek and he watched as an odd calm seemed to wash over you. The hand on his shoulder left him before you brought it to touch the droplet in a similar manner as he had just done. Looking at it curiously, there was none of the similarly overwhelming follow-up that he had endured, but he didn’t want that for you.

“N-no.” You choked out, your voice thick. “I don’t think I have…”

He nodded and reached up to gently remove your hand from his cheek. He held it in his palm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“What just happened?” You sounded breathless.

“Something a long time coming.”

It was slow, but through your conjoined hands, he felt you shake. He looked up in time to watch stifled laughter bubble up in you. He watched fondly as you shook what was certainly the exhausting length of emotions off before looking at him with lingering snickers. “What luck!”

If you liked this, there will be a whole list of behind the scenes notes posted on the membership tier of my ko-fi!

#rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

[teejaysnow]

It’s 04:00, I’m on the nightbus back to Stockholm (where I will arrive at around 06:10) - and no, I don’t regret all of my life choices. Yet.

My plan for today was to get a hot chocolate at Kaffebrenneriet, do some shopping at Outland and Platekompaniet, and then head over to Dramatikkens hus to watch six scriptwriters from Den Norske Filmskolen “revive the art of theatre”.

Well, at least I got my chocolate - but the shopping spree at Outland was cut short because of a fire alarm, and I didn’t find anything I wanted at Platekompaniet. So the scriptwriters better be reviving the hell outta that theatre, thanks.

First off, I did find Dramatikkens hus after circling the place only once. (Without google maps, I’d probably still be looking for it - they don’t really advertise their existence, do they?) Also, it’s definitely not bigger on the inside - which was good since I’d forgotten to bring my glasses and is pretty much blind as a bat without them. Usually not a problem, my sonar system is pretty good - but for theatre performances I prefer to rely on my glasses, thanks.

So, we all got our hands stamped (well, when I say stamped…), a small program (well, when I say program…), and a lottery ticket - which I suspect was a scam (I mean, as someone with quite a few memories she’d like to forget, I had high hopes for that lottery prize) and were then set free to find a seat. I found a nice one by the wall and curled up to enjoy the show(s).

Anyway - from here on, there be spoilers:

The first play was the lottery one. As I said, I had high hopes for my I19 ticket, but… yeah, I’m pretty sure it was rigged… 😏

Anyway, it was a pretty interesting play. The lottery winner was adamant that she regretted nothing despite the host dragging up things like making her younger sister drink her own urine (thanks for that mental image). It wasn’t until the host talked about how she’d sexually abused someone that the winner started to get uncomfortable and denying it had ever happened. She would never. She wasn’t that kind of person. And anyway, he was a guy, guys wanted sex. Also, guys wanted her. Finally she accepted that she might have been guilty of abuse and asked to get her memory removed. After some further thought, she instead wanted the guy’s memory to be removed. And after even more thought she decided that they both should keep their memories, thus turning down the prize, because it would be weird no matter whose memory got removed.

There were no curtain calls between the sets (well, there was no curtain either, so 🤷🏻‍♀️), only some nifty stagehands moving and removing the few props each scene had. So for Bruduljen, they produced a table and two chairs.

I was looking forward to this one. I read and really liked Camilla’s photobook, which felt very stream of consciousness-y, so I was interested to see if she’d also use that style for script writing. (The answer was no, but I still liked the play a lot.) A teacher and the mother of a girl that had assaulted her were working on a report on what had happened. The mother was trying to soften the language - was it really an assault, wasn’t it more of an argument that got out of hand? Did she really punch you, wasn’t it more of a slap? Talking about how she has a picture of her five year old daughter with her face full of ice cream taped to the refrigerator, wondering what happened to that sweet girl who now colour her hair and have a… well, rather colourful language to match? The mother and the teacher got into a shouting match, then there was an actual fight where the teacher’s ptsd from the assault kicked in and she hid under the table, and then there was a sweet (and very funny) bit where the mother tried to coax the teacher out from under there. And then they went back to work on the report.

Stagehands in to exchange the table and chairs for a sofa with a… well, body, I guess? Enter my favourite play of the night.

The description of this one gave me a bit of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf vibes beforehand. Afterwards? Yeah, I’m still sticking with old Virginia here. It’s really funny with some pretty loud arguments in between. As well as a whole cooked turkey thrown on the floor. Twice. I guess nothing says Christmas like a good family argument? Even if one third of the family is sitting dead on the sofa…

The play began with mum talking to her (very dead) hubby and offering him whisky. Which he - surprisingly enough - didn’t drink. She blamed it on it being cheap whisky - me, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have drank it even if it had been Talisker. Enter daughter, who complains about the smell. I wonder why 🤔 She also complains about rats. I wonder why 🤔 Exit mum to the kitchen to fetch the turkey - leading to my favourite joke of the night (that didn’t get a laugh - I wonder why?? 😠) where the daughter pours a glass of whisky, holds it out to her dad and with an absolutely perfect delivery says “Whisky?”. Anyway, enter the turkey, daughter throws it to the ground while yelling at her mother in english, picks it up, hands it to her mum, and apologises - only for her mother to throw it to the ground while yelling back, also in english. Then the doorbell goes off and her mum asks if the daughter had invited anyone. Which she had. People from the funeral parlour. Her mum still doesn’t want to let go of her dead husband, so the daughter agrees not to let them in and that they can all just sit and wait for death and then get buried together. Always look on the bright side of death, I guess.

Okay, so out with the sofa, in with… nothing? Except for two actors, that is. So this was basically my reason for going to Oslo. Well, this and Kaffebrenneriet’s hot chocolate.

Now, let’s start with the fact that the Bergen accent is not my friend, so… the struggle was real. I most definitely didn’t get all of the dialogue.

The play was about a seventeen year old drama student wanting to do a Chekhov play topless (but I’d say she definitely gave off more Shakespeare’s Ophelia vibes with the whole waif-y dancing and singing). Anyway, she baited the drama teacher about it and how she felt that Nina would definitely have her boobs out. The drama teacher didn’t fully agree, trying to argue that it was a school play and the sixteen year old boys watching would just see her boobs. The student argued that it would be Nina’s boobs they saw, not hers. (I think both me and the drama teacher doubted that the boys would make that distinction) The student kept provoking the teacher, calling him out about having liked to see her boobs. The teacher altered between confessing that he had and saying that he hadn’t and that he was being her teacher. It all finished with her dancing off the stage while humming an eerie melody, apparently off to drown herself in the river (as I said - Ophelia vibes) Between this and Kunsten er død, I have a feeling Tarjei is in his “exploring what art really is” era.

Anyway - no stagehands this time since we were getting another props free play.

This one was the age old story of boy leaving a party early because ex is there with her new beau, ex comes after him and calls him out on it, boy admits to it. Although a bit more complicated. (Don’t get me wrong, I did like this one.) So, boy and girl used to be a couple when they were younger. At seventeen, girl got pregnant. Girl then lost the baby, which led to the break up - apparently without the two of them really talking about it. Until now. Let’s just say there were some left over feelings still around and they kept skipping around the stage, getting closer and closer to each other. Until they got very close. And then her phone rang and it all crumbled into pieces. Boy is about to walk away, girl is waiting for her boyfriend to drive her home - and then we get a fifteen minute flash forward indicating that there will be an accident. Boy imagines asking (what we now know is future dead) girl to tell their unborn baby that he loves her. Sad now. (Also, all the actors were great, but I think these two were my favourites.)

And now the stagehands are back for the final play. Hooray! Enter a park bench and one actor - who is taking a magazine test on sexuality. S&M. Whips. Dogs. (I might have misheard that last one. At least I hope I did.). This is when actor number two arrives and starts going on about Will Smith and Chris Rock. (Both me and actor number one are of the opinion that it’s been years, just get over it.) Actor two talks about having sex with multiple people - which actor one quickly labels “poly” and - after a bit of explaining - actor two happily accepts. They continue to talk about the sexuality test and actor one goes full gossip girl and spills about how his girlfriend and a male friend got the same high score on the sadist category. They then do a bit of fuckboy sniggering until actor two shoves actor one hard enough for him to kick over his soda bottle. And that soda had cost him thirty crowns, thank you very much. So actor one tries to fight actor two over it. Very unsuccessfully. So actor one ends up lying on the ground moaning while actor two returns to the bench and starts up on the whole Will and Chris thing again. Actor one yells at him to stop (otherwise I’d have probably done it 😒), and actor two realises that actor one laying on the ground whimpering meant he’s masochistic - which is the perfect pairing for his sadist girlfriend. And then they all lived happily ever after.

The whole thing took about 90 minutes - which meant I had eons of time to catch my bus. I even had time to meditate a bit over the Opera House by night.

And now, here I am on a bus back to Stockholm, bum complaining about the uncomfortable seat, head complaining about the lack of sleep, stomach complaining about not enough food, and bladder complaining about having had too much to drink. And I’m still not regretting any of my life choices. Today’s been fun!

#tarjei #filmforfattere gjenoppliver teaterkunsten #that bergen accent is my villain origin story

[vergess]

So a friend reblogging this interview tips post, which is a perfectly fine post with advice that is useful or whatever.

But I desperately need hiring managers to stop acting like the livelihood and continued survival of their interviewees is "playing the game." It's not a game; it has never been a game. It's people's survival. Our lives.

I understand that to management it's about showing team spirit. But to everyone else, management just said that I need to buy new clothes if I even want to be considered a meritorious applicant, regardless of my skills, experience and attitude.

Because every single thing I own is "ratty." That is to say, it is worn out, thread bared, and has stains/rips embroidered over. That's what being a poor person looks like.

"Oh just spend $20 on a shirt and pants."

I'm also fat. Button down shirts that won't be an Obscenity charge are $40. Pants are $60. I have 37 dollars to my name and I still have to buy medicine and shelter.

And remember: this expense is for the lottery chance that I may get hired. It is NOT an expectation presented AFTER an offer.

I get to pay for new clothes for russian roulette.

I should spend everything I have and more to buy one outfit for interviews and really, really hope that this time I get the job. Even though interviews are notoriously biased against fat people, POC, queer people, and women.

Management also just said I need to prove that I know about the company atmosphere from personal, unpaid, off the clock research above and beyond the application and interview process.

That I should self teach, BEFORE so much as an offer is made.

Meanwhile literally hundreds of my applications are thrown away on a weekly basis (I do about 15 applications a day most week days, and have been for multiple years now). The reasons for this are varied. Sometimes its because my name sounds too ethnic (I've had so many interviewers compliment me for not being Black which they thought based on my name). Sometimes they think I'm over qualified for every single job within 55 miles of me, as though having a college degree means I can photosynthesize instead of needing a home.

Often it's simply because companies lie all the time about whether they are actually hiring, posting dozens of fake job listings. That way they can tell their overworked and underpaid staff, "Oh, the reason you have 3 doubles a week is because of all those lazy unemployed assholes that don't want to work."

The fact that there is a "game" where the loser may become homeless or dead at all is deranged. The fact that the losing players all have to smile, and cheer, and cooingly tell the winners what a Good, Good Job they did is significantly more disgusting.

And let me be clear: the OP of that post is a hiring manager. That shit about "ratty clothes" is entirely under the hiring manager's opinion. There's no way to know what a given hiring manager thinks of your clothes, though if you're visibly poor, fat, or nonwhite chances are they would think you look unkempt in a full 3 piece suit with garters.

That shit about "show me you did independent unpaid labour to prove your loyalty to a company that isn't even hiring you yet" is ALSO under the manager's absolute judgment. You have NO way of knowing what stupid tidbits of information are the "right" ones to recite. You could memorize every piece of information that company has ever published and you STILL would not know which trivia is the Right Answer.

Same with the "ask me a question" shit.

There is no right answer. Interviews don't check for skills, abilities, experience, or even team cohesion.

They are vibe checks. They exist to give hiring managers a way to disqualify IMMENSELY qualified candidates over their own unexamined bigotries.

And btw? We have the science to prove it. It's called "implicit bias."

If you have an accent, are fat, aren't white, are visibly disabled or queer in any way, etc? Your inability to get a job is not because you "didn't play the game."

It's because the "game" was rigged to fuck you over from the start.

[harmonysanreads]

Prize and Possession

yandere yelan x reader x yandere ningguang

inspired by this post

w/c: 2.4k+

cw: yandere, gambling, slight power imbalance, some not sfw implications, ye old writing style

—YOU WARNED HIM. You warned him again and again. You warned your father the moment he got himself involved with his demise, you warned him again when he went ahead to challenge that woman and you pleaded for him to stop, to withdraw the bet throughout the whole carriage ride to the casino. But alas, all of which went through deaf ears.

If your father could gather at least a fraction of self control, then maybe you wouldn't have to be here, wouldn't have to be in this situation ; sat right beside the perpetrator of your sudden misfortune and watching as your father loses, a process so painfully slow.

All covet, all lost. There's a reason behind said proverb. Greed brings but loss. Something that starts slow, agonizingly roots itself on a person's being and they don't notice or rather, choose not to, until it's too late. Greed, has destroyed hundreds—no, thousands of humans ; but never did you ever expect your father to become one of them.

“Heh, Lord [L/N]. Luck doesn't seem to be on your side—do you still wish to go on with this game? I mean, the winner has already been decided.” she chortles. You snuck a glance at her fair visage and that infuriating smirk upon her painted lips almost made you want to snap. She was all laid back, sipping wine as if this was nothing more than a round of family board games. Your dearest father contrasting with the biggest frown you'd ever seen, posture rigid and a hand to his chin.

Your breath almost hitches when she glanced back at you and that smirk widened further upon noticing your extremely ticked off expression. Realizing you were caught staring, you whip your head away—which was a bad decision you realize afterward, because you can just sense her growing amusement.

Breath, breath [Y/N].

The moment until last night, you were quietly living your oblivious and frankly mundane life. The life of a noble lady in Liyue was not that interesting, if you were to be honest. You were mostly expected to have a perfect posture and keep an eye on the way you behave in public. Other than the occasional strictness, it was just a tranquil life under luxury.

But right now, as your grip on your robes —the ones she gave—tightened under the table and as you were minutes away from being sold out, you wanted nothing more than that boring life back.

Last night was already dreadful enough when your father approached with a grim expression and informed you of his grand debt. But he immediately added the bet he agreed upon to a woman, a small flicker of hope creeped in your shook heart only to be tarnished mercilessly when he revealed the stake of said bet: you.

You felt a myriad of emotions in that small conversation but most of all, you felt betrayed. You tried to convince him to not do this but a contract was a contract and never has a contract been broken in Liyue.

Loosening your grip on the fine silks, the intricate designs caught your gaze for the first time that morning. If this had been a different scenario, then maybe you would've given time to admire the woman's tastes. But as you recalled the ever increasing dread that crept up your soul just a few hours ago ; just after you woke up from a night with no pleasant dreams and an obviously nervous servant came in with a woven basket full of fine silks, silks that that woman you'd yet to meet had sent. Amplifying your fury all the more came in the small, hand written note in it, I can't take my prize home in rags, now can I?

(Which was still nothing compared to how your heart shattered when you confronted your father about it and he merely dismissed you with something along the lines of how she would be pleased if you wore them, and perhaps she'd show mercy.)

You tried your best to think of what you did to attract the attention of one of the most influential (and dangerous) figures in Liyue. Yelan, came her short introduction when you stepped foot into the establishment. The name sounded oddly familiar but why, you couldn't remember no matter what.

You hopelessly glance at your father. All his remaining hair had whitened over the course of just one night and sleep bid him farewell the moment Yelan made herself known and graciously reminded him of all his due debts — all of which came from that one damned addiction : gambling.

He recalled his throat running dry and the feeling as if his soul had slowly left his body when the blue eyed female presented the long scroll that accounted all that he owed. There were records of misappropriation from the Qixing's funds which would no doubt earn him at least a decade of jail. The rest, he'd rather not look for he might've just fainted there and then.

(But Yelan, as kind as ever, presented a deal, or rather, a bet as a last chance for your father to redeem himself. Mired in greed and deceptions, he failed to see the ominous smile on the female's face upon his agreement.)

You took a hard look at your father's face, then to the game where your brows creased and then to the blue eyed female. After a small mental debate you decided to speak up, “Please, stop this. I beg of you. Give us one more day, I promise all the debt will be cleared.”

She slowly shifted her whole attention to you and it could've been the illusion of your sleep deprived eyes, but her face softened in the slightest. You had a small flicker of hope but didn't let it consume you whole. Her gloved hand reached out to caress your face, then to smoothen the curve of your brow ; all of her touches leaving a burn in its wake. You didn't dare move.

Then, shattering everything, she cooed in the most patronizing way, “Aww, look at you. If you continue to be so cute, I might just take you right here and now,” you blinked. You felt a small ache in your heart, did she just toy with your feelings?

Leaning closer to you ear, she continued, “Oh, save the begging for later.” her hot breath fanned against your face, making you flinch. You felt blood rush to your face, from anger or from embarrassment, you didn't want to know — a sight the jade eyed female revelled in.

A cough from your father across the table as if reminding of his presence, made the female finally lean back, albeit smugly. You turned your head to the side in distress, trying to calm your picked up heartbeat. That's when you decided, you couldn't be near that woman, not at all. She was too dangerous.

They continued with the petty game on the other hand, it seemed like the winner would be announced any moment now but your father wouldn't budge. He still clung to that ruse ; after all, if he could even cut it close, all his debts would be withdrawn. He'd come too far, might as well go all out, no?

In his clouded judgment and vision, he might've not fully understood the weight of this deal. It kept echoing back in his mind, if he won, all his debts would be withdrawn and he could go back to fixing things and perhaps, pick up this hobby once more — but with more caution.

As if an opportunity presented by Rex Lapis himself, he finally found an opening. He could already picture Yelan's defeated face as he would triumph, victory was just a second away.

But there was something more, at the last moments ; something clicked in his head. That's right, he was up against Yelan. A notorious member of the ministry of civil affairs as well as a fearsome name in the gambling world.

No, that's not right. His brows furrow. Something was not right at all. Winning a game against Yelan should never be that easy. He still recalled the saying of one of his gambling buddies, they were a victim themselves and came to warn him like a good friend. And in this situation, those same words rung like funeral bells in his mind right after the blue eyed female exclaimed—

“Checkmate,”

Yelan, never loses a game.

You think you heard thunder crackling but that would be strange considering how clear the sky was this morning. But perhaps, that might not be so far from reality as the unfortunate inevitable had finally taken shape. Your father lost, Yelan won. You realize thunder did crackle, as said female pulls you flush against her while staring ahead to your father ; and him, having finally realized what he just did. Thunder crackled in your heart, in your mind and it tore all your hope like thunder tears through clouds.

“Well then, that settles it. I'll be keeping your debts concealed but [Y/N], will be going with me, as promised~” panic flooded through your father as he hurriedly tried to reach out to you, but Yelan was quicker. Before your father even had the chance to turn, she'd already hoisted you up on her shoulder and just like how she'd entered your once ordinary life, she was gone.

Sudden, swift, without a trace.

—

“You didn't tell me you were taking me to the Jade Chamber,” you exclaimed in disbelief when she finally put you down on the floating chamber's floor.

“There was no need to, kitten” she replied nonchalantly, lips curving into that annoying smile. You crossed your arms in front of you, a small act of defiance. How cute.

“Well then, now what? Do you intend to lock me up in the Tianquan's quarters or something?” you said half jokingly but Yelan did not respond instead motioned for you to follow her. You huff, begrudgingly following her trail despite there being no need to.

The walk was silent. Yelan curiously glanced back towards you, you had your attention set to the floor—something that should be uncharacteristic of someone that'd stepped foot in the Jade Chamber for the first time in their life. Someone unfamiliar to all this would more likely be amazed by the interior, marvelling at everything but you... Yelan knew there was something else, she just needed confirmation.

Yelan led you to an all familiar door, she didn't even bother knocking and casually barged in.

“It's rude to enter without knocking,” a refined voice announced in disapproval earning but a shrug from Yelan. You tried peaking from behind her only for said woman to completely move out of the way, leaving you exposed to a pair of ruby eyes.

Her eyes widened a little but vanished just as quickly, “Got the job done, I see.” the Tianquan commented, pleased.

“Did you expect otherwise?” the blue eyed female shot back to which the other female chuckled.

The events that had transpired from last night to this, nothing ceased to both surprise and confuse you. First, your father revealing that he was on the verge of bankruptcy then some woman ‘winning you’ through a bet while your father pathetically lost and now whatever this was.

“Ningguang...? What..?”

Ningguang's attention was brought back to you. Her eyes first drunk in your entire form, it had been such a long time. She stood up from her desk and made her way to you, “I know you have many questions. Why don't you sit down? I'll answer them one by one.” she gently guided you to a seat, you glanced back at Yelan who seemed to have found interest in her nails.

You turned around just in time for Ningguang to put a porcelain cup in front of you. You recognized that set as well as the colour, but the excessive smoke from the tea appeared to be strange altogether with the unfamiliar scent. Regardless, the tea was less important now.

“How do I begin...your father had accounted massive debts as you already know. That alone was punishable enough, furthermore, I've received intel that he was planning to sell you off to an arranged marriage. I simply couldn't just stand and watch now could I? So...”

You followed her gaze and it fell on Yelan, you got her hint.

“But, Ning...you could've just told me on our last—”

“About that,” Ningguang cut you off mid-sentence, surprising you.

“You...wouldn't if I did.” her eyes trailed off everywhere that wasn't you.

“Huh, why?” you asked back utterly lost. Why on Teyvat would you reject such a proposal? To be free from an unwanted marriage and your father sounded like bliss to you. Ningguang's eyes clouded over, for once those brilliant pair of rubies seemed to have darkened.

Before the Tianquan could reply Yelan spoke up for the first time after entering the office, “I believe I have a reward in due,”

Ningguang quickly regained her composure, you saw the two sharing a gaze ; a message was sent. You looked at Ningguang then to Yelan but when you returned your gaze to the tea, you felt the tea set dance.

You stood up abruptly, something was wrong here, you could feel your gut twisting in discomfort. In your life, your father was not the only one that made wrong decisions, you did, too. You realized bolting towards the entrance was just the worst of them as it only hurled you towards the blue eyed female's embrace.

Her grip was strong and it promised bad things. Your feeble squirming was futile as it only accelerated your draining energy.

“Tsk tsk, leaving already?” you think it was Yelan's voice. You were so close to her, you could pick up her scent with ease ; silk flowers and something else you didn't know how to describe in that hazy state of mind.

Wait, why am I breathing so fast?

Ningguang's heals clicked on the floor, the sound a bit too loud. She moved a stray lock from obscuring your vision, which was blurring ever so slightly. Even through your unstable vision and erratic breaths, you could perfectly make out the emotions laying within those bright pools of crimson.

It clicked in your mind the last second, the unsaid words of Ningguang and the so called reward of Yelan. If the Tianquan called for you, you'd be there in a heartbeat. But a person favours their freedom more than adoration, you at least. Though your senses were nothing but a miscellany of blue, red and the scent of silk flowers ; you managed to capture their eyes, and the meaningful shine before all went dark.

Because, you won't be leaving from now.

reblogs are appreciated!<3

#genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere yelan x reader #yandere yelan #yandere ningguang x reader #yandere ningguang #yelan genshin impact #ningguang genshin impact #yelan #ningguang #gn reader #reader is in an affair with ningguang #inspired #yandere #yandere x reader #genshin x you

[sherifftillman]

i know you said you'd write other characters if prompted, and you've talked about ralph from timewasters before, so: what if lauren rejected his offer to dance on his birthday but [the reader] took him up on it instead?

Pairing: Ralph Penbury (fanon surname) x f!Reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1182

A/N: Sorry I've been a little burnt out on fics lately, but this prompt really got me excited about writing again, so thanks for that! <3 I might make a follow-up if people want it? Writing for Ralph is so fun.

You couldn't believe it when the envelope had found its way through your door. The Penbury twins had invited you to their party. Conventionally, it's not that surprising; your families had close political ties for years and so you'd grown up alongside them for pretty much your whole life - though there was always an air around them that you only felt as though you were friends by necessity, not for any genuine reason. Certainly, now that you're all adults now with your own social circles, there's no need to force any kind of friendship. So it's very sweet that you've been invited.

You wonder whose idea it was to invite you. Victoria was always rather indifferent to you, unless you were willing to 100% conform to her games to make sure she was either the leader in imaginative ones, or the winner in competitive ones. And Ralph... Sweet Ralph. Your first love. With his penchant for finding the fun in life and his infectious smile and his gorgeous, big brown eyes... Always in Victoria's shadow, but nonetheless happy to be there. He'd stopped showing much of an interest in your presence somewhere within his teenage years, so you doubt it came from him, but one can dream.

You buy a wine-red dress that hugs your figure beautifully, with silver fringing all around it, and silver shoes and jewellery to match. Maybe Ralph Penbury isn't the love of your life, but there'll be plenty of other suitors there. Perhaps you'll meet one of them.

At the party, all everyone can talk about is the new quartet who speak in "exceptionally strange" terms, even for a typical jazz band. One of them had arrived late, and the song they played wasn't one you'd ever heard before - and you like to think of yourself as quite the aficionado when it comes to music. Nobody can keep their eyes off the four of them - though, one in particular especially stings. Ralph has never been yours, so you have no right to feel jealous over the way he looks at the drummer, but here you are.

Finally, when the second band of the night starts to play some slower songs, you watch him approach the band - and more specifically, her - with Victoria in tow. Naturally, Victoria has two of the men throwing themselves at her, though she leads only one of them to the dancefloor. You watch Ralph talk to her. You watch her pull a face of disbelief and - almost laughter as he talks. You watch his face fall, licking his lips as he stammers something and walks away to a table, muttering something to a waiter who quickly disappears to reappear moments later with a full bottle of wine. Ralph uncorks it and, not bothering with a glass, starts drinking from the bottle.

Nobody seems to be approaching him. They're all having so much fun themselves that they don't care that Ralph is suffering at his own birthday party. You approach the table and take one of the seats next to him. "Well, hello, stranger!" you coo. "Happy birthday!"

His eyes light up at the sight of you. "My goodness, how long has it been! I was hoping you'd be here!" That sentence makes your heart flutter. Maybe it was Ralph that sent your invitation after all.

You take his hand - the one not still holding onto the bottle - into your own. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, dear. I mean, if there's one thing I've heard around the circuit all these ears, it's that the Penburys know how to throw a party!"

Ralph looks up with a smile, shaking from side to side as he singsongs, "Guilty!" which makes you laugh. He smiles for a moment, though it falters. "Though Vic is really the face of it all."

"That makes you the brains, surely?" you offer with another smile, which he very briefly returns. His attention flickers between you and the band who you know are positioned behind you, on the other side of the room. You clear your throat to get his attention back, "Say, Ralphie, would you do me the honour of getting to dance with the birthday boy himself?"

His whole face lights up as he nods in agreement. You stand and hold your hand out to him, which he takes for you to take the lead as though the roles are reversed between you. He does take the lead as he holds you in his arms to start dancing. You hear a faint clack-ing every time he steps on the dancefloor, and bite back your laughs at it. "So," you eventually manage to get out, "are you and Vic planning on gracing us with some kind of tap routine tonight?"

Ralph giggles, and the sound is positively delightful. "No, no, funny story, we bought these for each other for our birthday! Aren't they wizard?! We had seen a tap show earlier this month with some friends and we haven't stopped talking about it since, and so we both decided to buy the same gift for each other!"

"You two had a word for that, didn't you?" you reminisce.

"Twintuition!" he singsongs again, making you laugh again. Suddenly, from nowhere, Ralph hurriedly bends down and presses a quick peck to your lips. He jolts back up immediately, his cheeks flushing bright pink. It only makes him look more adorable.

You snake your hand up to gently caress his jaw. "And why would I do that?" He finally looks down at you, perplexed. "I've been waiting for that my whole life."

"My dear Ralphie, what on earth brought this on?" you beam, though unbeknownst to him as he refuses to make eye contact with you, instead staring straight ahead and blinking hard and fast.

"I, um. I'm so sorry. All that wine, it, um. Clearly took all my inhibitions with it. I... Completely understand if you want to leave now."

"You're pulling my leg," Ralph half-accuses, though the smile that plays on the corners of his lips shows you he isn't serious. "I rather thought you were... Well above my league. I couldn't even bear to sit myself in the same room as you, for fear of dulling your radiance."

You bring your other hand up to rest on the other side of his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. "And yet, would you believe, I felt the same way about you all these years!" A wicked grin spreads across your face. "So, that would mean we've got quite a lot of catching up to do..."

Ralph's facial expressions go on a journey, from confusion to surprised realisation to elation to downright mischief. "I know just the place to give us all the, ah, privacy we need!"

You bite your lip to keep a laugh away, looking down at his feet and then back up at him. "I do think those wizard new shoes of yours might betray us in the secrecy department."

Within seconds, he's kicked them off, scooped them up and offered you his free hand. "Shall we?"

#ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury imagine #ralph penbury x you #ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph timewasters x you

[vole-mon-amour]

3x11, part 2, RJK edition.

oh my god, just make out already, you two. Jamie is so fucking sad, who fucking hurt him, I wanna hurt them back.

Jamie is on the verge of tears, can't Roy fucking see it??? LOOK INTO HIS EYES AND SEE IT.

That is probably the most mature and concerned reaction I've ever seen from Roy towards Jamie. Like when he hugged him in s2, it was great. But here he's actually trying to TALK about it. He's genuinely concerned and interested in what's going on.

EMMY WINNER PHIL DUNSTER WHEN?????? Jfc. Just hug the boy, Roy.

;_____; Sharing trauma aka I've been thrown into Sunflowers and Amsterdam again. BEST FRIENDS.

Ok. This is ok. I'm okay. There was a glimpse where the kiss could've happened and Jamie could've continued wailing and it would WORK. Roy wouldn't even say a thing bc Jamie is a mess and it might now mean anything, and if it did, they can talk about it later.

Anyway. Jamie going in for a hug FIRST bc he trust Roy and he feels safe around him and he feels okay about physical intimacy and being vulnerable with him now. I wanted my hug & I guess this is the closest I can get to that one in 2x06. And with Jamie crying again. Ohhh my god.

The poor boy needs a vacation with both Roy and Keeley (and a lot of sex and love from them). I'd say RoyJamie only, but it's more likely at this point that ot3 happens instead of otp.

Well, it's close to Will walking in on Roy and Jamie kissing. Almost.

I'm fucking staying here. I don't need anyone else. I'm staying here and going down with this ship. Jamie full on can do whatever he wants at this moment & Roy would probably allow him. The hands interlinked on Roy's back, Jamie's head going from Roy's shoulder into the crook of Roy's neck. They really are best friends. Jamie feels so comfortable and safe with him. Putty in his hands, huh?

And I can't fucking keep quiet about Phil pulling this off. Like... MY GOODNESS, GIVE HIM ALL THE FUCKING AWARDS. It makes me sad but at the same time I can't stop laughing, and I'm sure this was the intention. Bc this dramatic wailing is truly something.

At the same time, "I can't sleep, and I can't eat" is a serious sign of depression or at least a serious burnout. Get Jamie a therapist and some quality time break from all the stress.

"Jamie is a mess & I gotta help him."

Keeley is so excited she gets to help Roy with Jamie. This is very ot3 of you. I gotta say though, Roy has to learn how to talk and communicate. It's all fun and all, the idea of when there's a miscommunication or Roy unable to go to emotional depths, but it's really important. In the previous ep he watched Jamie and came up with the right words for Keeley. In here he went to Keeley so she could help him with Jamie. I see a pattern, but I'd love Roy to act on it. Saw Keeley maybe, came up with the right words, knew how to act with Jamie, went back to help.

But then I expect both of them to go back to Jamie and help, so also very ot3 of them.

Jamie and his rings. Jamie being so many fans fav player. Jesus, I love this kid so. fucking. much. Get him into therapy again, please.

"How's he doing?" "Fucking hell." "I'll talk to him."

For a show that gives so many queer references, it would be weird if they were queerbaiting us tbh. It's possible, but it's still weird, especially with so many queer characters.

For the reference.

IF NOT OT3, THEN WHY THIS. They're gonna drive me insane.

#natiswatching #ted lasso #roy x jamie #roy x jamie x keeley

[eyesoffthemaud]

12 Days of DadMight: A December Event!

An Event is HERE! Here's the TL:DR.

What's the Event Called?: 12 Days of Dadmight

When does the event take place?: December 14th - December 25th

When are the Angst Days: December 14th - December 19th

When are the Fluff Days: December 20th - December 25th

Want to know more? GOOD! There is.

How would I describe the Event?

“12 Days of Dadmight” is a Christmas Event for the enjoyers of the relationship between Toshinori and Izuku (aka Dadmight). It’s one of my personal favorite relationships in MHA, so I decided for Christmas to turn it into an event for others like me!

While everyone knows the typically “12 Days of Christmas” song, this event comes with a twist. My personal favorite fic tag, is Hurt/Comfort- and the event reflects this!

Fluff is fun, however, I wanted to give our angst-lovers a treat as well! So, the first 6 days of the event are for our angst creators. Post an angsty dadmight fanfic or artwork if that’s what tickles your fancy! I want to cry myself to sleep.

That’s not to say I don’t love fluff! What is angst without fluff??? The last 6 days of the event are for the fluff creators. Post a fluffy fic or artwork! Make my cheeks hurt from smiling so hard!

Submission Rules:

Must be following my tumblr at @eyesoffthemaud

Produced pieces must include DadMight; particularly Izuku and Toshinori Yagi - other characters definitely may be included, but the main focus would be the relationship between both Izuku and Toshinori.

There is no limit on entries for this event. By submitting any piece(s) for the event, you are eligible for the prize. However, this does not mean that participating in all 12 days guarantees a win for the event.

Writers:

Minimum word count for fics: 1000 words

When submitting your writing, submit it to the collection (LINKED HERE) if your work isn’t in the collection. I haven't seen it.

Please add the tag, 12DaysofDadmightAngst or 12DaysofDadmightFluff to your piece as an indicator of what category you’re submitting your piece to.

Artists:

Art must be fully colored, simple sketches would be loved dearly but would not qualify for prize runnings.

When submitting your art, tag me @eyesoffthemaud. If your art has been reblogged then I have most definitely seen it. If I haven’t interacted with it in some way- I cannot guarantee that I have seen it.

Please add the tag, 12DaysofDadmightAngst or 12DaysofDadmightFluff to your piece as an indicator of what category you’re submitting your piece to.

Submission Timeframe:

All Submissions must be posted between December 14th through December 25th.

Late submissions are welcomed, but not encouraged.

There will be an official announcement when the event submission period has closed for judging. After that, any submissions after that announcement will not be considered for the prize.

Rules:

Have Fun and Enjoy the Dadmight! Seriously.

Fics and Artwork should definitely not contain anything NSFW.

Heavy Gore is personally welcomed by me. However, I heavily discourage the showing, referencing, description, and/or usage of needles of any sort. This is an extreme phobia of mine, and as the event runner, it’s something I personally cannot handle. Please keep this in mind when writing/drawing- I wouldn't make this a rule if it truly didn't trigger my phobia.

This is not a Dekumight event. I swear. If you submit a Dekumight work to this event, I'm not only blocking you but blacklisting you from literally any and all events I ever choose to run in the future.

Prizes:

There are total 4 “winners” for the event 

2 writers, 1 from the fluff submissions and 1 from the angst submissions received

2 artists, 1 from the fluff submissions and 1 from the angst submissions received

The prize that each winner will receive is 1 Full Body/Full Render commission from my wonderful spouse @mcfanely! Each winner gets 1 art piece just for them!

(The rules of McFanely’s commission sheet still apply when describing what you’d like done)

Additional Information

Feel free to submit pieces for both the designated “Angst” and “Fluff” submission periods. Please know that you can only “win” for 1 category. In other words, one person cannot win in multiple categories.

More Questions?

Any more questions about the event can be directed to me via by Tumblr Askbox, or in my discord server.

#maud posts #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #dadmight #toshinori yagi #all might #izuku midoriya #deku #christmas #12 days of dadmight #12 days of christmas #holiday #fandom event