#and you reply with a knowing Solidarity achieved!

[easydiskdonthack]

lol

[saphronethaleph]

Literary Illusions

“It’s ironic,” Palpatine said, shaking his head. “He could save others from death, but not himself.”

Anakin frowned.

“And this is something the Jedi wouldn’t have told me?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Palpatine replied. “Is it a story you’ve heard?”

“Well, yes,” Anakin said. “Just now, from you. But not before then… and that surprises me, Chancellor.”

Palpatine shrugged. “I think you’ll find, Anakin, that the Jedi have not been telling you everything.”

“Maybe not, but… honestly, that sounds like exactly the kind of thing they’d tell me,” Anakin said.

Palpatine frowned.

“...what?” he asked.

“You know,” Anakin said. “Some Sith Lord works out how to bring people back to life from the dead, but his apprentice kills him and doesn’t bring him back to life because the Sith are inherently self destructive. If the two of them had worked together and been able to trust one another, they’d have been immortal.”

He shrugged. “It’s a good illustration of the inherently self destructive nature of the Dark Side, and it’s the dichotomy of how the Dark Side leads you to seek power in order to achieve goals that you then discard as irrelevant, because they’re not directly related to gaining power… hold on a second.”

Palpatine was a little distracted by trying to avoid mentally kicking himself, so it took him somewhat more than a second to notice what Anakin was doing.

“...Anakin?” he said. “Are you getting your comlink out?”

“Yeah,” Anakin replied. “Going to text Obi-Wan, ask him what he thinks of the story. Maybe there’s some kind of detail I missed which makes it less of a good illustration of the different worldviews and mindsets of the Jedi and the Sith.”

The Knight shrugged, his thumbs tapping away at his comlink. “He probably knows it, he knows all of the old stories.”

Palpatine blinked several times.

“...don’t,” he said, then very discreetly scrambled for a reason why. “It’s the middle of a performance. We don’t want to interrupt them.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s on silent,” Anakin replied, with a shrug. “Or vibrate. Did I put it on vibrate… hang on, Chancellor, I’ll make sure it’s on silent…”

He turned the comlink over, then a loud bwing sounded.

“Oh, right, I forgot to set it to do not disturb mode,” Anakin said. “Hang on… uh… yeah, there we go, I forgot I added all these custom modes. I’ve been missing a lot of sleep lately.”

“Perhaps-” Palpatine began, but Anakin spoke over him.

“Huh,” he said. “He says he’s never heard of it either. Wants to know where I heard about it, it looks like he’s really interested… or maybe he’s trying to tell me about a death stick vendor, he’s terrible with multiglyphs and he thinks he’s good at them.”

Anakin glanced at the Chancellor, hoping for some solidarity, then visibly noticed that the Chancellor was several decades older than him and abandoned that.

“Is there a book I can get the whole story from?” he asked, instead. “Obi-Wan is better at nuances, like I say.”

“That is not the point,” Palpatine said, trying not to get visibly angry. “The point is that there is a way to save your loved ones!”

“Maybe there used to be, but not any more,” Anakin shrugged. “Like you said, this was a Sith thing and the Sith are all dead. Well, unless General Grievous is a Sith who knows how to heal people, but I doubt it given how much he got hurt, and I’m not sure Dooku knew it either… hey, if this story needs to be publicized more then maybe we could have them do a play of that instead?”

Palpatine blinked several times, as he tried to keep up with a Jedi with possible undiagnosed ADHD and found himself discovering a lack of talent for podracing.

“What?” he asked.

“You know, a play,” Anakin explained. “Dramatic betrayals, lost loved ones, it would probably do numbers. It’d be better than this, anyway.”

He waved his hand at the ongoing performance of Squid Lake.

“...what is wrong with Squid Lake?” Palpatine said, before reflecting that that had really been a stupid question for him to ask and that he should have asked a much better one.

“Well, uh,” Anakin began, looking a bit abashed. “Actually now I say it out loud this might be really culturally insensitive of me, but to me this play might as well be eighty minutes of people boasting about having enough water to swim in.”

“It’s a ballet,” Palpatine told him, now completely having lost control of the conversation.

“It’s just a less scary version of Sarlacc Pit,” Anakin went on. “Someone tried to drown me in a lake once, because they thought I couldn’t swim, but floating on sand is much harder, you barely have to do anything to escape a lake. You just float.”

Very belatedly, Anakin caught sight of Palpatine’s look of total befuddlement, and shrugged.

“Watto was a lot of things,” he said. “But he had culture.”

Palpatine’s hands twitched, as he very seriously considered the idea of abandoning literal centuries of Sith planning and decades of personal political advancement in favour of stabbing Anakin somewhere it would hurt.

It was extraordinarily tempting.

“...hold on,” Anakin said, slowly. “I guess… the thing I’d like most at the moment is for… and that means… this is literally one of those times when I could fall to the Dark Side because of it, like Darth Plagueis.”

He bestowed a grateful smile on Palpatine. “Thanks, Chancellor! I need to make a call, I guess the ballet won’t mind.”

Palpatine was so thrown by the swerve that he couldn’t think of a way to stop Anakin in the few seconds he had.

“Love?” Anakin said, into his commlink. “I… think we need to come clean, because otherwise I’ll fall to the Dark Side.”

Palpatine’s eye twitched.

[ofasgardandalfheim]

Loki & The Siren; Chapter Sixteen

A Seductive Ruse. A Fierce Battle. The Taste of Power.

Fic Synopsis:

This is the story about how you met and fell in love with Loki, hundreds of years before the events in Avengers, while his family was visiting Alfheim, where you were a siren.

It is a companion piece to Lightning Over the Sea-Redux to give more insight into your past and relationship with Loki.

18+ only

Your senses are heightened as you ride, taking in the sights and sounds around you. The trees rush past in a verdant blur, their leaves rustling gently in the cool breeze. The sweet melodies of birdsong fill the air, soothing and calming your nerves. The rich scents of pine and earth invigorate you, sharpening your focus.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you see your companions' determined expressions, a sense of solidarity washing over you. You grin at Thor and Hogun, Thor returning the smile at the sight of you astride the massive wolf. Pride swells in your heart, knowing the new allies you’ve recruited will make all the difference. You tighten your grip on Hrimfang's neck, and the great wolf turns his head, giving you a reassuring glance.

As you and your companions arrive outside the village, the acrid scent of smoke and fear hangs thick in the air. Approaching cautiously, you spot enemy raiders posted at the perimeter. Your heart races with adrenaline as you look to Thor, your voice barely above a whisper, "Do you trust me?"

Thor's eyes darken, his expression serious. "Always," he replies, his voice low and steady.

You turn eagerly to Thor and Hogun, presenting your plan. "I have an idea. I can use Thor's red cape to distract the enemy and make my way into their fortress undetected. With your permission, Thor?"

Thor nods in agreement. "Of course, if it can help us achieve our mission."

Without hesitation, you unsheathe your sword and slice off a section of the vibrant red cape. Draping it over your shoulders, you feel the smooth fabric caress your skin as you fasten it around your neck, admiring how the bold color contrasts beautifully against the black of your armor.

A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you begin casting a spell of illusion, transforming your armor into a seductive red dress that hugs your curves perfectly.

Read more on Ao3

[denimbex1986]

'When the losses and grief of the past are too great, the present becomes populated by ghosts, those ghosts that you call to yourself in your memory and then can't get rid of. “All of us Strangers” is a tale of ghosts and suffering, a great inspection of modern man and his way of mourning.

And it is one of the most tender love stories in modern cinema. The fact that it is the affection between two men that is illustrated here in a subtle, at times reverent way is important and also not. Being gay is a significant but not the only theme in the Andrew Haigh-directed film. With Adam (Andrew Scott) and Harry (Paul Mescal), the two lovers, it becomes clear what a challenge intimacy, understood as mutual recognition and acceptance, means - beyond sexual orientation.

Meeting the dead parents

The two men are neighbors, both residents of an anonymous high-rise apartment building in London. Harry makes very direct advances to Adam. At the beginning it's just a flirt, you spend a night together. Adam is a screenwriter, working on a script about his own story, his youth in the eighties. He regularly drives out to the suburbs to his parents' house. There he miraculously meets his parents, who died in a car accident when he was twelve years old. Adam's puberty, his queerness, his life as an author - his parents missed all of this.

Who is this couple, played by Jamie Bell and Claire Foy, who live as if the eighties never passed? Are they projections of the son, on whom the unresolved grief is playing mental tricks? Are they ghosts, stranded in an intermediate realm of nostalgia? Are they actors in Adam's script scenario, which takes shape in concrete reality, just as an artist's imagination can become real, as concretizations of a poetic higher truth?

The puzzle is not solved. This is the film's outstanding aesthetic achievement: despite all its openness to interpretations and readings, it shows something very directly, namely what grief is like. That the injuries, the missed opportunities, the unspoken insults of yesterday help shape our today.

Catch-up coming out

Adam visits his parents three times, who now get to know their son as an adult. They didn't know he was gay, and his coming out is the cause of many touching, painful moments. “Aren’t people being mean to you today?” asks the mother, whose world is that of the Thatcher era. “No, things are different today,” says the son with a mixture of indulgence and amusement. “They say it’s a lonely life,” worries the mother. “If I’m lonely, it’s not because I’m gay,” Adam replies.

Andrew Scott plays this man in his mid-thirties as a self-confident man who is at the same time hurt by loss and loneliness. The longing for closeness and comfort from parents is covered with a fine veneer of disappointment. His polite way of tutoring his father and mother about life in the 21st century is mixed with defiance and resentment.

The conversation with the father, who suspected that his son was gay - "you were pretty tough as a child" - but didn't stand by him and forced the boy to perform rituals of masculinity (sitting with his legs apart, playing football) is one of them moving highlights of the film. Because the father regrets his lack of sensitivity and solidarity, and in turn longs for closeness to his beloved, but always estranged, son. Rarely has one seen the high moral and emotional demands that a serious reparation must achieve illustrated in such a way in a film.

Parallel to the journey through time and memory, Adam and Harry get closer to each other in the present - although present is a questionable term in this narrative that weaves the levels of time and imagination together. Harry, for his part, is hurt: by the averageness of his family, which, in its bourgeois saturation, has to repress and marginalize the queer. Harry seems lost, one wandering through nightclubs and casual romances. Adam's affection could be an anchor in this life weighed down by self-doubt and fear.

Virtuoso camera work

In his brilliant portrayal, Paul Mescal shows us the breaking points of modern manhood. How difficult it is to appear cool and at the same time remain sensitive, casual and yet serious and authoritative in personal matters. Jamie D. Ramsay's camera work is masterfully tailored to this differentiated game: primarily in close-ups, he literally brings us closer to the characters and captures their ambivalent nature in precise images.

“I know how easy it is to stop taking care of yourself,” Harry says at one point. This describes a burden that burdens every fragile, fundamentally damaged person: the effort to lead a middle-class, conventionally successful life. The encounters of today and the connections of yesterday: Both represent social, mental and psychological challenges. In order for the present to succeed, the past must, if not cleaned up, then at least be recognized and accepted in its formative effects. “All of us strangers” demands this project from its heroes and us, the audience. And this impertinence is cinematic bliss.'

[strangechopshopcheesecake]

Everything You Need to Know About Apple Watch Series 9 Red

The Apple Watch Series 9 Red is more than just a stylish timepiece. With powerful upgrades in performance, design, and health tracking, it brings together cutting-edge technology and an iconic color. If you’re curious about what makes this edition special, or whether it’s the right choice for you, keep reading to discover everything you need to know. moroptions

What’s New in the Apple Watch Series 9?

Apple’s Series 9 watch marks a significant step forward. The new model boasts enhanced hardware, starting with the latest S9 chip, which delivers faster performance and more efficient processing. This allows for smoother navigation through apps, faster response times, and even better energy management. Pair this with WatchOS 10, and you have an incredibly intuitive user experience that’s smoother than ever.

Design and Aesthetics

The Iconic Red Edition

The Apple Watch Series 9 Red isn’t just about performance; it's also a statement piece. The vivid red color is eye-catching, symbolic, and sleek, making it a favorite for those who want to make a bold fashion statement while supporting a meaningful cause. The vibrant finish is complemented by high-quality materials, ensuring durability and comfort.

Materials and Display

Apple continues to use aerospace-grade aluminum for the Red edition, keeping the watch lightweight but sturdy. The display features LTPO OLED technology, offering an always-on retina display that provides crisp images and better visibility, even in bright sunlight.

Performance Upgrades

The Series 9 features the new S9 chip, which is a game-changer in terms of speed and efficiency. This upgrade enhances not just app performance but also overall responsiveness, making tasks like replying to texts or accessing apps faster than before. The improved chip also contributes to better battery optimization, allowing users to enjoy extended battery life.

Health and Fitness Tracking

Advanced Health Monitoring

Health is a key focus in Apple Watch Series 9, and the Red edition is no exception. With the latest sensors, users can monitor heart rate, blood oxygen levels, and even take ECGs right from their wrists. The Series 9 also introduces improved sleep tracking, providing users with detailed insights into their sleep cycles and quality.

Fitness and Workout Tracking

Whether you’re running, cycling, or swimming, the Apple Watch Series 9 Red tracks it all. The enhanced workout features offer more precise data on your performance, making it easier to achieve your fitness goals. And yes, it’s water-resistant up to 50 meters, so it’s perfect for swimmers and divers alike.

Connectivity and Smart Features

Apple Watch Series 9 Red comes with advanced connectivity options. With improved Wi-Fi and cellular features, staying connected even without your phone is easier than ever. Bluetooth has been enhanced for quicker pairing, and integration with Apple’s ecosystem allows seamless communication between your iPhone, iPad, and even your Mac. Plus, Siri’s enhanced functionality makes it easier to control your smart home devices or get answers to your questions hands-free.

WatchOS 10: The Game-Changing Software

WatchOS 10 is a key component of the Apple Watch Series 9’s success. The new software offers a more personalized user experience, with improved app navigation, more customization options, and better integration with Apple’s Health app. Plus, the addition of new watch faces allows users to customize the look of their watch to reflect their personal style.

Red Edition: A Symbolic Choice

Why choose the Apple Watch Series 9 Red? Beyond its stunning color, this edition is a part of Apple’s ongoing partnership with the (RED) organization. A portion of the proceeds from each purchase goes toward fighting HIV/AIDS in Africa, making this a product that contributes to a global cause. It’s more than just a watch—it’s a statement of solidarity.

Durability and Water Resistance

The Apple Watch Series 9 Red is designed to be both durable and water-resistant. Whether you’re diving into a pool or going for a run in the rain, the Series 9 Red can handle it. With a water resistance rating of 50 meters, it’s perfect for swimmers and divers alike.

Customization Options

One of the best things about the Apple Watch Series 9 is its endless customization options. With a wide range of bands, from sporty silicone to elegant leather, you can tailor your watch to match your style. You can also personalize the watch face, choosing from a variety of colors, designs, and functionalities to make it truly your own.

Battery Life and Charging Improvements

The battery life on the Apple Watch Series 9 Red has seen improvements as well. Thanks to the new S9 chip, the battery is more efficient, allowing users to get through a full day of usage on a single charge. And when you need to charge, the fast-charging capability ensures you’ll be back up and running in no time.

Pricing and Availability

The Apple Watch Series 9 Red edition is available at a starting price that aligns with other models in the Series 9 lineup. It can be purchased directly from Apple’s website, as well as from authorized retailers. If you’re eager to get your hands on one, pre-orders are available, and deliveries typically begin a few weeks after the launch.

Comparing Series 9 Red to Previous Models

When compared to previous models like the Series 8, the Series 9 Red stands out with its faster performance, enhanced health features, and striking design. While both models offer great value, the Series 9’s advancements in battery life, health monitoring, and WatchOS 10 make it the clear winner.

Conclusion: Should You Buy the Apple Watch Series 9 Red?

If you’re looking for a watch that combines cutting-edge technology with style and a good cause, the Apple Watch Series 9 Red is an excellent choice. It’s perfect for fitness enthusiasts, tech lovers, and anyone who appreciates the blend of form and function. Plus, by purchasing the Red edition, you’re contributing to a cause that truly makes a difference.

FAQs

How is the Apple Watch Series 9 Red different from other colors? The Red edition stands out due to its striking color and the fact that a portion of the proceeds goes to the (RED) organization, supporting the fight against HIV/AIDS.

Can I customize the Apple Watch Series 9 Red with different bands? Yes, the Apple Watch Series 9 Red is compatible with a wide range of bands, allowing you to switch between different styles.

**Is the Apple Watch Series 9

FAQs

How is the Apple Watch Series 9 Red different from other colors? The Red edition stands out due to its striking color and the fact that a portion of the proceeds goes to the (RED) organization, supporting the fight against HIV/AIDS.

Can I customize the Apple Watch Series 9 Red with different bands? Yes, the Apple Watch Series 9 Red is compatible with a wide range of bands, allowing you to switch between different styles.

[the-man-moth]

Heloo

Im wafaa from Gaza

I need your help if you can

Please donate to save my life and my family 🍉🇵🇸

Asking for help is not easy, I ask for a small donation of only 20$ from each person, 20$ will save my family from death in Gaza 💔 Donate through the link in bio (gofundme) Together, we can achieve our goal within a day and provide crucial support to me and my family in Gaza. Your contribution means everything to us and in these difficult times your kindness is our greatest hope. We are very grateful for any assistance you can provide and thank you for your kindness and generosity in our time of need

https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-wafas-fight-for-safety-and-health

Hi Wafa,

Thank you for reaching out and I'm very sorry for the late reply.

I've donated $25 and am posting here to encourage others to contribute to your fundraiser as well.

I'm so sorry for the tremendous losses and tragedies your family has had to endure. I know in 4 days it will be exactly one year since the IDF first began raining bombs and gunfire on Gaza; and that in the year that has passed, you and your family have had to survive everything from losing your home and livelihood to illness and lack of access to clean water and healthy food.

With the funds that have been raised so far, I hope that you and your family will be able to find safety and rebuild your lives, so that your mother is able to access the medical care she needs and so that you can continue to follow your dreams after having successfully graduated from university. I wish for the health and happiness of you and your loved ones.

From New York to Gaza, I send my love and solidarity. May Palestine be free,

A.W

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Chaos Chapter 2

Previous | First | Next

Master Post - Patreon

“And that’s my story,” Tusk said as the three passed a series of abnormal rock formations.

Mizuki was utterly amazed by Tusk’s history, unsure what to say or make of it. It was safe to say that it was well beyond anything she could have imagined in comparison to the stories from where she had come from. “Well then… that uh, kind of makes my story pale in comparison.”

Razor kicked a stone off of the dirt road. “No it doesn’t. My father always told me that no matter how great or whimsical, woes are woes and a tale is a tale.”

“Agreed,” Tusk replied. “Spill the beans, lass. What’s your story?”

Lass? Did he just call her lass? Normally Mizuki would have given both of them a piece of her mind for that, but refrained as the two were growing on her. “I was pursuing a terrible and vile demon lord that had been plaguing my family and home land for generations. He fled into The Unlight after a fierce battle with my father and I went after him. Sadly I lost track of the fiend and wandered the realm for a long time. Eventually I came to the Realm of Chaos hoping I could get a lead on him.”

Tusk stopped to pick up a sign that had fallen down on the road. “Hum, I wonder if he had anything to do with The Eternal Order…” he muttered to himself as he made sure the sign was good to go. “Well I hate to rain on your parade, but that demon lord is either dead or lost to the sands of time, if you’ve been at it for long enough.”

Mizuki gave Tusk the weirdest look, indicating that she was wondering if he even knew what he was talking about. “Are you sure about that?”

He nodded. “You go around picking fights long enough in the Unlight and you’ll eventually bite off more than you can chew. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen before.”

Razor noticed that Mizuki was not pleased. “Hey, don’t worry, Mizuki. I’ll help you track him down when we’re done. Scully noses are some of the best in The Unending Forest. And if he’s dead, we’ll find his corpse for closure. I swear on my honor as a Sunset Wolf.”

The oni was a proud warrior, but even she had to admit that was sweet. “Thank you, Razor. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Curiously, how did you achieve your ULTRAMagic?” Tusk inquired.

Mizuki straightened out her mask and cleared her throat. “Well I started training with a woman named Gratiana Arlotti…”

“And she wasn’t with some sleeze named ‘Milosh?’”

“No?”

Tusk nodded, as if confirming something. “Alright, continue.”

That was certainly strange, as she felt she had landed on a touchy subject and was not sure why. “Anyways, after she taught me what I know about combat now, I went off and began finding soul fragments left and right. The rest came naturally.”

“That’s awesome,” Razor congratulated. “Mine were a mix of asking my friends and finding them out in the forest.”

Tusk appeared to be pondering something. “If you met Gratiana before Milosh, then your demon lord is long gone, Mizuki. I’m sure of it.”

“Well if you’re so insistent about it, just how long ago was my meeting with Lady Arlotti then?” Mizuki was a little annoyed and had to get to the bottom of this issue.

“Lady?” Tusk laughed with a wheezing sound. “She didn’t tell you she was a harlot, did she? Anyways, that was a long time ago, possibly before I was born and I’m 32. We’re looking at least 40 years ago…”

“Wait, how!? I saw Lady Arlotti a year ago!”

“Well that’s nonlinear time for you. Be careful if you’re coming from a realm based in linear time. You could easily leave one moment only to come back a hundred years later by complete accident.”

Razor nodded in confirmation of Tusk. “He’s got a point, Mizuki. It happened to our friend, Valentina.”

Mizuki could feel herself getting worked up, so she took a second to ease her nerves. It did not work. “Okay, FINE! I’ll just go with you on your little quest then!” She sounded frustrated and defeated as she angrily crossed her arms.

Tusk approached her calmly, feeling a bit of solidarity in her frustration, despite their obviously different backgrounds. “Easy, Mizuki. Let’s get to Droomopolis where you’ll be able to rest and get your bearings. Then we’ll figure out what to do. Sounds cool?”

Mizuki wanted to stay angry and protest, but she could not. She could tell Tusk had been through a lot in life and that he had her best interests in mind. “Alright…”

“Don’t worry, Mizuki, it’ll all work out. Say, if your demon lord is dead, do you want to join the ULTRAMagic Guild?”

“The ULTRAMagic Guild?” she questioned.

“Yes. Blood-Wraith and Ultimatum are gathering a bunch of mages like us to help keep the Unlight safe. I’ll be out and about, but I’ll be sure to send any ULTRAMagic mages I find their way.”

That sounded quite inviting. “And Blood-Wraith will be the leader of this guild?”

“Well a leader, I guess… Deimos is going to track down Tiberius Skull and Alexia Lavoie to also lead the guild.”

“Hey, Tusk?” Razor jumped in. “Can I join too?”

“Well of course you can!” Tusk cried. “Jeez, kid, what did you think I was going to do after this is all said and done? Send you to babysit my niece?”

Razor chuckled. “Sorry, stupid question.”

Tusk shook his head, then noticed another sign post that was slightly off. Specifically it was pointing in the wrong direction. It shone in the afternoon sunlight once corrected, despite the metal being quite aged and rusted. Razor and Mizuki could see Tusk getting visibly excited and smiled. They naturally assumed they were getting close to the city.

“In the Realm of Chaos, you want your signs to be pointing in the right direction,” Tusk eagerly pointed out. “Now come on, Droomopolis ain’t too far away.”

The trio picked up the pace as they passed by more hills and rock formations. As they traveled further, things became more civilized looking. The only strange thing was that any structure they passed by at a certain point looked techno-organic, but even that did not fully capture the nuances of the aesthetic in question. Regardless, the excitement was building as they passed by occasional houses along the countryside.

Coming upon a great set of ruins full of floating platforms, the group noticed something was off. They could hear the sounds of clashes and fighting, which was never a great sign in The Realm of Chaos. Quietly climbing the aged, outer wall, they peered inwards while being as silent as possible. At the center of a giant, stone arena were what looked like a demon and a dragon fighting someone.

“Any thoughts, Tusk?” Razor asked in a hushed tone as they hid amongst the large rubble.

“Hmm… The demon in the black and red jester clothes is most likely a devil. The Dragon? He’s a jabberwock, no two ways about it.”

“A jabberwock?” Mizuki was incredibly weirded out by the creature.

“They’re semi-bipedal, flat faced dragons,” Tusk answered. “Native to the Realm of Chaos, they’re not common, but certainly powerful. Typically you see them in the realm of The Discordant God of Lightning. Now as for the guy in the grisly, red armor? I want to see if his opponents confirm my suspicions…”

Over at the fight, the devil was unleashing a flurry of slashes from his dual, flat-tipped straight swords with his enemy doing his best to dodge them. “Well you’re awfully nimble today, Karnage!”

“Mayhem, jump!” the jabberwock called out. Once he had a clear shot, he unleashed a torrent of plasma at Karnage.

The warrior responded by creating a shield made of a gruesome, red mass to block the blast. He then noticed Mayhem spinning down towards him in a buzzsaw motion, enveloped in blue and gold flames. “Ha, clever, but not good enough!” Karnage snarled, violence gleaming in his blood red eyes.

Karnage leapt up, rearing his fire-coated fist towards Mayhem. The devil noticed the attack, but could not respond to it effectively. To combat this, the jabberwock took off, flying in between the two. He caught Mayhem on his back and smacked Karnage to the ground with a swift flick of his whip-like tail. The sound of their foe hitting the arena floor was fairly satisfying.

“Thanks for the save, Dragutin!” Mayhem said as he regained his bearings.

“Don’t mention it. I honestly thought we had him that time.”

Karnage was picking himself up as Dragutin landed and let Mayhem down. “Well played…” Karnage growled, his voice clearly tainted by the venom of his frustration.

“Uh oh, I think the general is angry,” Mayhem taunted as he and Dragutin walked over.

“Bold of you to be out here, Karnage!” Dragutin pointed out. “The Discordant God of War won’t save you if the Arbiters find out what you’re doing.”

“You are arrogant to assume I come here aimlessly, wyrmling…” Karnage could tell that he had offended Dragutin and smiled. “And even if the Arbiters come after me, they’ll just go after that blowhard Wulfric, making my work all the more easier.”

Mayhem pointed a blade at Karnage. “Then if he shall fall, I’ll take his place and kick you into the nearest pit!”

Karnage glared at him with utmost malice. “Petulant little whelp. You won’t be laughing when I get my hands on ULTRAMagic…” he then noticed some rustling at the upper levels of the arena. A maniacal grin stretched across his face. “How intriguing…” Karnage then sank into a rumbling, screaming vortex and vanished from the arena.

Mayhem sighed and put his blades away. “Sometimes I really wish Discordant War would just toss him into a pit of fiery spikes…”

Dragutin readied his leathery wings. “I must concur, Mayhem. Come, we need to tell Ealdhelm about this.”

“What about our audience over there?”

“Leave them be. If they’re heading towards Droomopolis, we’ll surely meet them there.”

“Alright then” Mayhem said as he hopped up on Dragutin’s scaly back. “See you guys in the city!” He called out as they took off.

Once the two were gone, Tusk stuck his head up to see if the coast was clear. “Alright, we’re good,” he said as he sat down on a large brick.

“What was that, Tusk?” Razor wondered as he and Mizuki came out of their hiding spots.

“No doubt about it; that was General Karnage Dethgrave, Wulfric’s champion. He’s always up to no good, even back when I was training with the Arbiters.”

“Do we have any idea on what he wants?” Mizuki asked. “Given that he mentioned ULTRAMagic…”

“No idea, or at least, no idea at the moment.” Tusk looked incredibly concerned as he looked down at the ground.

“Well surely the Arbiters can handle him, right?” Mizuki tried to reassure him.

Tusk shifted on his brick. “Yes, but it is the fact that he’s plotting in the first place that has me worried. It’s never a good sign when he’s up to something. His mere existence is never a good sign in the first place.” Tusk groaned and stood up. “I wish Cynneberht was here. He studies these kinds of tactics and whatnot.” He then led Razor and Mizuki back to the road, carefully scanning the horizon as they did.

Deciding to cut the sight-seeing, Tusk and his companions quickly made their way to Droomopolis. The towering, imposing city was truly a sight to behold. All of it was made of a strange, techno-organic metal that seemed to be alive. Pipes could be occasionally seen exposed to the open air and invoked somewhat of an organic feel, but were also quite magnificent given their impeccable symmetry that was quite satisfying to look at. Just trying to imagine what architect could have possibly made such a strange city was beyond the imagination of anyone sane or of lower dimensional level.

The impossible towers and buildings were surrounded by great walls that kept the city safe from the unpredictability of the Realm of Chaos. Inside the walls it was a fairly normal city, all things considered. It had all the hallmarks of the realm, but also a degree of structure and order to it. An eclectic collection of people from all walks of life were going about their daily lives and minding their own business. Had one ignored all the odd aspects of The Realm of Chaos, they could have easily assumed Droomopolis was just a regular city.

Tusk was overwhelmed with happy nostalgia as he pointed out the sights and locations to Razor and Mizuki. Despite Mizuki having been on a quest to avenge her people, Tusk’s joy was infectious. She could not help but smile under her mask. Razor was amazed by the city regardless of the reason why they were there. It was awe inspiring and he wanted to explore every inch of the city so he could see all that was possible. Upon walking past a food cart, someone called out to Tusk.

“Well I’ll be damned, Tusk Willfort!” The man had four arms, well kept auburn hair, green eyes, and appeared to be running a hot dog stand.

“Mr. Lyon, good to see you again! What’s all this? Did the restaurant not take off?”

“Things got a little delayed, so this is a side gig I’m on just to have a little extra spending money here and there” he replied as he began preparing some food. “I’ll concede that I got kind of hooked on this. You've been away for so long. What brings you back on this fine day?”

“Well to put it simply, Ealdhelm needs help and I’ve been sitting on my roots for too long. Oh, Mr. Lyon, these are my traveling buddies, Razor and Mizuki. Razor is Magnus’ son that I’m mentoring at the moment and Mizuki is a warrior we picked up on the road.”

After an exchange of greetings, Mr. Lyon handed each of them a hot dog. “On the house, guys. Welcome back, Tusk,” he said as the two shook hands.

“Great to be back.”

“Thanks, Mr. Lyon,” said Razor. “I’ll be sure to come around later and buy something.”

“Itadakimasu, Mr. Lyon,” Mizuki thanked as they walked away.

“He’s nice. I like him,” Razor stated in between bites of his food.

Tusk nodded. “Hank has always been a great people-person. Super polite and welcoming, he knows how to treat you and win you over as a regular customer. I’m shocked he hasn’t gotten his diner fully off the ground yet.”

“Some things take time,” Mizuki replied. “A lake isn’t formed in a day.”

“So where are we heading next, Tusk?” Razor inquired.

He finished his hot dog, wiped his face, and threw his trash in a garbage can. “City Hall. I have no doubt that the Arbiters are there. Ooh, I can’t wait to see Ealdhelm and the others again!”

Next: Chapter 2

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

Jabberwocky © 1871 Lewis Caroll

[ryuichirou]

hhi what do you think about azurido (azul/riddle)? do you have any headcanons? have a nice day and btw you're a cool artist!

Hi Anon! I’m glad you like our stuff 🥰

We really enjoyed Azul’s and Riddle’s interactions in ch6, they are an interesting duo; I’ve talked about them a little bit in this reply, but I don’t have much to add, to be honest.

We don’t really ship-ship them, but I can give you a couple of headcanons, although it’s pretty obvious that I feel like they aren’t the best for each other. Which doesn’t mean that they’re a bad ship, of course, there are a lot of “they are bad for each other” ships that we love. But I feel like in order to have a continuous relationship, Azul needs someone more compliant and submissive, and Riddle needs someone more chill and less serious about himself. That being said, whatever they would have going on, it would to be interesting.

They consider each other attractive, at least in a “he is always doing his best to look good and I acknowledge that” way, and they also respect each other quite a lot, but it never occurred to them that there might be something between them pre-chapter 6. The whole STYX thing really made them reevaluate their relationship and perception of each other.

Their mutual respect and solidarity for each other’s ambitions would be the core of their relationship, they would talk a lot about how they are making each other better by being with someone who is also very into bettering himself and achieving perfection in any field; but at the same time they would have surprisingly deep conversations once in a blue moon, very rarely though. Other times, they would argue a lot about who is right about the pettiest little things, and since both of them are super stubborn, it gets ugly sometimes.

It’s impossible to be in a room with them when they watch any type of trivia-based game on TV, because it’s always a competition for them and they take it very seriously. Both are extremely sore losers, and they always want to prove to each other that they know more than the other does. While Riddle is usually the first one to yell out the answer, he is severely lacking in (pop) culture knowledge, so Azul gets plenty of chances to answer first and look extremely smugly at Riddle, while he gets either pouty or all red and furious.

Azul would actually manage to do the impossible: Riddle’s mom would like him a lot. Of course, he isn’t a lady, but he is such an upstanding and diligent young gentleman, surely a good influence on her son. Not to mention his pedigree, amazing grades and perfect work ethics. AND he controls his own diet! Riddle’s mother would even say that she wishes Azul was her son, to which Azul would laugh and say that they could arrange that (= Riddle and him could get married). Of course, none of this mean that Azul likes Riddle’s mother at all, but he is a master of sweet talking. Riddle is conflicted about this though: he is relieved, but he is a little bit terrified by how easy it was for Azul to win over his mother.

If they managed to get through the first year of their relationship and not split up, they would end up getting married pretty early. Riddle wouldn’t really want to rush it, but this is what feels “right”, and Azul has already decided that their alliance would be pretty profitable, plus they have Riddle’s mother’s blessing, so why not get married right after their graduation? They are definitely getting divorced at some point though lol

When it comes to sex, they are surprisingly passionate sometimes, especially right after they had a fight. Azul also makes it painfully obvious that he really enjoys seeing Riddle all red and vulnerable, which drives Riddle crazy and makes him mad, but that contributes to the hotness of their sex, so.  Azul can always complain afterwards and say “I can’t believe you bit me, Riddle-san”, as if he wasn’t the one to provoke the shit out of Riddle with his remarks about how cute, defenseless and a little pathetic he is when he lies beneath him.

[foilfreak]

Beauty and Her Beast: Chapter 4

Warning: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(Link to ao3 version in comments below)

Upon returning to the surface again, Mother Miranda seems confused, but mostly relieved, that Salvatore did not show interest in lingering in the village any longer than necessary. Though Salvatore did end up needing to stay for one last brief conversation, in which he and Mother Miranda discussed various parts of Nadine’s file, as well as finalized the date and approximate time in which Salvatore could expect the villagers to arrive at the reservoir gate with his gift in tow.

2 days from now, was the final agreement, as it would ensure that Salvatore would be the first of the Lords to receive his gift, making up for the fact that he was the last of them to pick. It also permitted him the luxury of some spare time to prepare a new permanent living environment of some kind for his gift. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

Regardless, Once their conversation finally concluded, Salvatore bid his beloved Mother a quick, but appropriately appreciative thank you and goodbye, before closing the large wooden door to the meeting room and trudging back out into the cold, harsh winter snow. Despite a lack of improvement in the weather since Salvatore’s initial journey into the village, the mutant man maintained a solid pace through the snowy paths, seemingly uninhibited by the forceful winds attempting to throw him from his course.

With little time remaining, Salvatore wanted to return to his reservoir as quickly as possible to begin making preparations; though, what exactly it was he was supposed to do in order to prepare for a tiny, beautiful, and apparently violent cadou-mutant woman to begin living in his reservoir with him, once again, Salvatore still had no idea.

Grimacing in frustration, the hooded man wracked his brain for something to do, some way for him to make a good “first” impression with his new gift when she finally arrives. Something that would catch her fancy and hopefully convince her that, despite his terrifying appearance, he wouldn’t harm her and merely wanted to be friends.

Well… technically speaking Salvatore wanted a great deal more than just friendship from the young woman, however given how low his chances are of ever achieving the former, the mutant man decided that he’d happily squash his vile and disgusting desires down deep within himself if it meant he’d gain at least something similar to a friendship with Nadine.

He’d been doing the same with Mother for all these years, so it wasn’t like it was going to be difficult… hopefully.

Upon returning to his reservoir finally, Salvatore retreated from the harsh weather, deciding that he’d likely have a much easier time cleaning if he waited the snowstorm out and got started in the morning, instead. Once the skies had cleared and the sun had just begun to peak over the mountaintop horizon however, Salvatore immediately set to work cleaning up the areas surrounding the reservoir.

It wasn’t until after several hours of diligent gathering and disposing of the numerous unsightly piles of rotting wood and garbage lying around, that the unusually bright and hopeful atmosphere surrounding the reservoir was rudely disrupted by a surprise visitor Salvatore would have never seen coming in a million years.

“HEY, FISHFACE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? I gotta talk to you about something, so hurry up and crawl out of your sewer system so we can get this over with, already” Karl’s rough and booming voice echoed out from somewhere within the reservoir.

Salvatore flinches in fearful surprise at the demanding voice, wondering what on earth could possibly have brought Karl, the notorious recluse of the family who never left his factory unless bribed or threatened, all the way out here to the reservoir. And to speak to HIM, on top of all that too.

Despite not feeling like subjecting himself to Karl’s recent tendency toward physical abuse disguised as “brotherly affection”, Salvatore sighs and swims his way toward his younger brother’s voice anyways, knowing that ignoring Karl would only prompt the younger man to actually enter the reservoir in search of him, which was the absolute last thing Salvatore needed right now.

“Mornin’, brother! It’s about fuckin’ time you answered the door. You were taking so long I was beginning to wonder if you’d finally decided to run away and live out the rest of your life as an actual fish, like I suggested to you at the last “family” meeting” Karl says bluntly, clad his characteristic attire of green sunglasses, a brown hat atop his head, a long tan trench coat covering his day clothes, various items strung around his neck, and large titanium hammer.

“H-hello, Karl... W-why is it th-that you’re h-here for?” Salvatore asks slowly, peering at the younger, but taller man from behind the only partially opened gate.

“Hey, hey, come on now, Sal, what’s with the cold welcome? Am I not allowed to visit my favorite older brother without a specific rhyme or reason. I think you’ll be surprised to know that I was actually already in the area, and wanted to stop by and see if you were in the mood for a chat. You know, like old times?” Karl says defensively, placing both his hands up as Salvatore narrows his eyes at the younger man.

Salvatore was a lot of things, but stupid most certainly wasn’t one of them, regardless of what other people thought. While it might be true that, when Karl was first introduced to the family as a child following his successful cadou mutation, they had something of a positive older-younger brother relationship that lasted a good many years into Karl’s adulthood, that relationship has been growing progressively shakier and unstable over the past few years, at least it has during the times Karl has acted like Salvatore wasn’t the only one to reach out and attempt to connect with the emotionally volatile, but secretly terrified young boy, when he first arrived.

Deep down, Salvatore still had something of a soft spot for Karl, a soft spot that he occasionally allowed himself to indulge in whenever Karl wasn’t acting like a royal asshole, but those moments of peace and solidarity between oldest and youngest brother had been few and far in between recently. Not to mention that Salvatore would be lying if he said he wasn’t growing increasingly more suspicious and distrustful of Karl and whatever secrets the younger man was hiding in that factory of his. He hadn’t the slightest idea what he could be up to, but something told Salvatore that Karl had more reason to be here than just pure coincidence.

“P-perhaps… what i-is it that you w-want to t-talk about?” Salvatore replies curtly, not wanting to just go along with whatever Karl wanted, but for some reason still willing to give the younger man a chance to prove himself.

Taking a brief moment to look over both his shoulders, Karl places the heavy end of his hammer on the ground and leans inward toward Salvatore, lowering his voice as he whispers, “You see your gift from Mother yet?”

This question took Salvatore by surprise, not expecting the gifts Mother Miranda had given them to be the reason why Karl was here.

“I… I h-have… why?” The disfigured man asks curiously, pushing the gate open a little further so that Karl, despite Salvatore’s earlier reservations toward the younger man, could squeeze his way inside.

Upon entering through the gate, Karl immediately takes 2 cigars out of his back pocket and lights the first one. “Curiosity mostly… but also cuz I think there’s more to this whole “gift” thing than Miranda wants us to believe,” the bespeckled man says, blowing a lungful of smoke out his nose as he offers Salvatore the second cigar. “You still smoke, old man?”

“I-I… I r-really shouldn’t” Salvatore says, turning his back toward Karl’s outstretched hand, even as the wonderfully woody scent fills his nose and his mouth begins to water.

“Oooooh, but something tells me you want to” Karl teases, sauntering over to the older man so that he could wave the fresh cigar in Salvatore’s face, chuckling in amusement when the fish mutant’s gaze locked onto and followed the unlit stick like a dog would a slab of meat.

“B-but it… M-Mother has s-said… m-many times… th-that she d-doesn’t like… doesn’t like when we s-smoke… because… uh, b-because...” Salvatore trails off, trying to remain strong for Mother Miranda, even as his self-control slowly continues to crack.

“Come on, lighten up a little bit, old man. It’s just one cigar. You smoked a pack of these things a day, like they were the only things keeping you going, both throughout my whole adolescence and, if what Duke says is to be trusted which we both know it is, well after I left for my factory, too. When the hell did you start being such a stick in the mud? No wonder I stopped hanging out with you, you’re like a fuckin’ parrot that repeats everything than goddamn woman says, it’s like I can’t escape her no matter where I fuckin’ go” Karl groans in a slightly childish tone of voice as he trudges forward to sit on one of the docks overlooking the calm water below.

Salvatore slowly moves to join him as he says, “S-she’s right th-though… it r-really isn’t good… f-for you… I smoked e-everyday for m-many years... an-and now I’m p-paying for my i-ignorance… Mother o-only nags at you… b-because she c-cares… and s-she’s always r-right… in the e-end...”

“Oh, fuck what Miranda says, I’m tired of that woman. Always telling us what to do and then thinking that pushing a couple of failed experiments onto us as “gifts” will make up for the fact that she’s disappearing off the face of the planet without a single trace and not telling us when she’ll be back. As far as I’m concerned, when Miranda’s not here, she’s not the boss of me. And the same goes for you, too” Karl says, roughly punching Salvatore in the shoulder.

“I-I don’t… I don’t think th-that’s how this w-works, Karl” Salvatore counters. “Even w-with Mother l-leaving us… f-for a t-time... we still h-have to make s-sure that th-things c-continue on… continue on as p-planned… or e-else we’ll really b-be in trouble… w-when she g-gets back.”

“Maybe,” Karl says thoughtfully, before taking another drag of his cigar. “I don’t know… I just have a sinking feeling that there’s something weird going on behind the scenes and these “gifts”, that she’s giving us, are nothing more than distractions to keep us entertained while she goes and does… whatever the fuck it is she plans on doing while she’s gone.”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, briefly remembering back to when Mother first told him that she’d be leaving the village to go “visit someone”, who she believed could be very important to their mission of reviving Mother’s long lost baby, Eva. Although he hadn’t thought very much of it at the time, the mutant man also remembers Mother saying something about how well Nadine would do at “keeping him occupied” until she finally returned, and maybe even after that, too. But why would Mother Miranda want or need him to be “occupied” when she got back? Wouldn’t she want to share her findings with him so they could work toward creating a vessel to revive Eva in? Wouldn’t she want to see and speak to him again after being away for so long?

Or maybe… could… could Karl actually be onto something here? Salvatore felt terrible doubting Mother Miranda, but he’d be lying if he said that Karl didn’t have a point about Mother’s behavior seeming odd, now that he was in the proper headspace to go back and analyze the memory properly, at least.

“B-but… if Mother h-has gone o-out of her w-way… to make sure that w-we won’t be l-lonely... w-while she’s away… isn’t th-that a… a good th-thing… doesn’t that m-mean she c-cares a-bout us... enough to… e-enough to do something l-like this?” Salvatore asks nervously, watching the younger man intently as he contemplates his response.

“I guess so, at least when you word it like that, it does. But something tells me there’s more to this than she’s led us to believe. She’s got something planned, and she’s definitely after something, and once she gets her hands on it, who the hell knows what’ll happen… whatever it is though, I doubt it’ll be very good, for any of us.”

“D-don’t say th-things l-like that… I-I’m sure M-Mother has a-a reason… a reason w-why she’s leaving… an-and if she d-doesn’t tell us w-what it is… b-before she leaves… th-then Im sure… I’m sure sh-she’ll tell u-us when she g-gets back… she’ll l-let us in o-on her p-plan… wh-when she’s ready… an-and then… once e-everything is… said a-and done… we c-can revive… r-revive Eva… and b-be a real f-family… a-at long l-last… isn’t th-that what w-we a-all want, after a-all… a f-family?” Salvatore asks, hoping this was doing something to ease the younger man’s clearly agitated mind.

What on earth it was that was causing so much turmoil as it flew around inside Karl’s head, Salvatore had no idea. But something about the bespectacled man’s unusually contemplative and concerned mood, coupled with the fact that he’d only punched Salvatore once since his arrival, was beginning to leave an acidic taste in the deformed man’s mouth.

Karl really and truly thought something was wrong, and the younger man’s continued insistence upon this fact was beginning to make Salvatore very very anxious.

Perhaps it was the unusually good and excited mood that Salvatore was in due to the near arrival of his gift, or maybe it was that soft spot for Karl I mentioned earlier, but regardless of the reason, Salvatore felt the odd need to help alleviate the younger man’s bad mood, just like he used to do for him back when Karl was still barely taller than his shoulder.

Mother Miranda certainly wouldn’t be pleased if she found out that Salvatore had broken his mandatory sobriety despite her explicit orders to avoid smoking so his experiment results wouldn't be hindered. That being said however, Miranda always seemed to want her 4 children to get along and be close, like real siblings, so Salvatore supposed that he could allow himself a break from his smoking break so long as, if Miranda did manage to find out somehow, he could get himself out of trouble by spinning it as a rare moment of sibling bonding between the oldest and youngest siblings, rather than the reality of the situation.

“I… I’ll t-take that cigar… if you’re n-not gonna smoke it… th-that is” Salvatore says, a small chuckle escaping him when Karl cheers in delight, practically throwing both the lighter and the cigar into the deformed man’s hands.

Salvatore’s first breath of the cigar is nothing short of heavenly once he finally lights it and takes a drag, and its moments like these when the mutant man finds himself secretly grateful that Karl hasn’t listened to a goddamn word Mother Miranda has said in nearly 4 decades.

A long period of silence passes as both brothers merely sit beside one another and secretly enjoy each other’s company.

“Miranda let me pick my gift first, so I didn’t get to see where the others went. Who did you end up with?” Karl asks, finally breaking the silence.

“T-the… the sh-short one,” Salvatore replies, “with b-blue skin, black h-hair, a-and, uh… oh, an-and white d-dots… all o-over her… l-like freckles… fins t-too”

“Oh ya, I remember that one. Gorgeous little thing, she was” Karl says, nodding his head in appreciation as a devilish smile spreads across his unshaven lips. “With quite the… voluptuous figure too, if I remember correctly.”

“I… well… I-I don’t know i-if… I d-didn’t... shut up...” Salvatore mumbles under his breath, taking a long drag from his cigar as Karl throws his head back laughing like a hyena at his older brother’s sudden bashfulness.

“Ah, come on, Sal, don’t be such a downer all the fuckin’ time, I’m just teasing. I know you still think about shit like that, too, even if you’ve managed to convince Alcina and everybody else that you’re just an innocent little follower who hasn’t had an independent, or dirty thought of his own since the cadou took hold. You used to be a fuckin’ doctor for crying out loud, and you’re still annoyingly the person Miranda goes to first whenever she has a new experiment in mind, cuz you’re smart AND she can trust you. You might look like you fell off the truck that was taking you and your fishy friends to market, but I’ve known you too long for that bullshit act of yours to work on me.”

“Act?” Salvatore asks, genuinely confused by what Karl means.

“You know, that stupid fuckin’ “moronic freak” act you do whenever Miranda’s around. The one where you act like you don’t know what the fuck is going on or what something is so that she’ll take pity on how stupid and childish you’re acting and give you more attention. It’s pathetic to watch and I’m gettin’ sick of seeing you do it all the time. Knock it off, you’re better than that.”

“I’ll… um… b-be sure not to… to m-make it s-seem as… uh… I’ll k-keep that in m-mind” Salvatore finally says, casting his gaze down to his pants for a moment, unsure how to feel about how… friendly and kind Karl was being all of a sudden. Salvatore knew Karl secretly cared about him, the brat does far too many conveniently nice things for him throughout the year for him not to, but hearing the younger man voice his surprisingly high opinion of him was definitely shocking, though still quite touching, all the while.

“W-which gift… d-did you end u-up… getting, Karl? I d-didn’t get t-the chance to… to s-see the others… M-Mother only showed me Nadi-er… my g-gift” Salvatore asks, deciding, at the last second, against using his gift’s real name lest Karl be given even more artillery to tease and riddle him with.

“Eh, just some tall dark haired broad. I think Miranda said something about her being Indian, or something along those lines.”

“O-oh… d-did Mother say a-anything about… whether she’s actually f-from here… o-or did she immigrate… f-from India?” Salvatore asks, tilting his head curiously as this new information about Karl’s gift piques his interest.

Karl stares at Salvatore with a look of confusion for a moment, his mouth opening and closing silently like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words for it. Until, “Aren’t Indians from America?”

The sound of Salvatore’s right palm making firm and painful contact with the back of Karl’s head echoes across the reservoir almost as loudly as the following cry of pain from the man himself.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?” Karl roars angrily, pushing himself to his feet while he rubs at the back of his head, hat lopsided and barely hanging on to his head and green glasses no longer perched upon his nose, likely sinking to the murky lake floor just below the docks they were sitting on.

“I d-didn’t spend… th-the better part o-of 15 years… p-pounding an education... i-into y-your th-thick head... for you t-to say… f-for you to b-be spouting dumb shit… l-like that” Salvatore growls in annoyance, eying the taller man with a look that even he wouldn’t dare argue against, at least not with Sal he wouldn’t.

It’s moments like these when Salvatore is very happy that Karl, for as strong and fearless as he is now as a fully grown adult, is still just a little bit afraid of him after all these years. Not because of anything bad or horrifically traumatic of course, especially considering how often Salvatore had gone out of his way to ensure Karl had the least traumatic upbringing he could possibly provide the young boy, given both their situations. As much as he hated to admit it, even Karl would agree that Salvatore had done a pretty decent job of not fucking him up anymore than he already was, which the younger man would secretly always be thankful for. However, even a person as naively patient and serving toward others as Salvatore had his breaking point, and all it took was one especially bad day, resulting in the one and only time Salvatore has ever left a mark upon the younger man’s skin, for Karl to realize that Salvatore was the last person in this godforsaken village he wanted to purposefully make an enemy out of.

Thankfully, their relationship never suffered negatively from that one-off event, but it did force the two to come to a mostly unspoken agreement that has remained present and active, if slightly ignored at certain times, from that point forward. Agreement or not however, Salvatore could never bring himself to harm Karl like that again, even if he wanted to, which was probably the main reason why Karl was still the most comfortable around him, even after all these years. It was a secret they shared between them, and them alone, and it would be one that he would cherish for the rest of his life, as Karl would secretly cherish the kindness and brotherly love Salvatore had treated him with for all these years. They were brothers, regardless of whether they got along or not, and nothing in the would world would be able to change that.

That being said however, Karl was about to be in for a very rude awakening if he thought he could just do and say whatever the hell he wanted around Salvatore without there being any consequences.

“‘A-aren’t Indians f-from A-America?’ G-good grief... I o-oughta throttle y-you for th-that one” Salvatore grumbles through another drag of his cigar, shaking his head in utter disbelief and disappointment. Karl was so intelligent, and yet he could be so stupid sometimes that it physically hurt Salvatore to think about.

“But there ARE Indians in America, aren’t there? I know I’m not wrong here” Karl defends aggressively, his anger quickly giving way to embarrassment when Salvatore raises his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and annoyance.

“Th-they’re called N-Native Americans... f-first of all... they w-were only c-called I-Indians... b-because the g-guy... the moron who f-first sailed t-to the A-Americas... w-was actually... looking for I-India... the r-real India... b-but back th-then... you h-had to go all th-the way... a-around Africa... to g-get there... but he th-thought h-he could do... d-do it a d-different w-way... he thought h-he could f-find India... by s-sailing straight f-from S-Spain... and g-going around the whole w-world... until h-he came b-back around... an-and hit Asia” Salvatore explained slowly, hoping to maintain his delusion that Karl had, in fact, paid attention to at least some of the lessons he gave the boy throughout their time together, even if it wasn’t actually true.

“But he didn’t. He hit the Americas and started calling the locals Indians cuz the guy, what’s-his-face... Columbine... Columbus... whatever, was dumb enough to think he was in India and not a totally different landmass” Karl finishes, looking like he at least remembered hearing about his information before, which was good enough for Salvatore.

Despite the grimace still etched onto his face, Karl groans in annoyed defeat and slinks back down to sit next to Salvatore, still cradling the back of his head.

“Anyways, as i was saying before I was so rudely interrupted with a goddamn history lesson-”

“You w-want another s-smack?” Salvatore threatens, mildly amused when Karl pauses his dramatic retelling, before sliding just a few inches to the right, away from Salvatore’s preferred disciplining hand.

Coughing slightly, Karl continues. “Anyways… going back to my “finding the silver lining” idea, or whatever the fuck its called. This whole “gift” thing might actually work out kinda nice for me in the long run, especially since the one I got looked like she was strong and could handle herself in a rough and tumble environment. If she proves herself, I’m planning on turning her into my assistant” Karl explains casually. “As much as I hate working with other people, normally, I’ve got some projects that would really benefit from a second pair of hands, so I’m attempting to make a “silver lining” moment out of this bullshit “gift” thing Miranda’s tryin to do and just hope and pray that things work out in my favor. Though, to be fair, if things with this girl don’t go well, I could always use her body for a cool idea I’ve had cooked up for a while now. What about you? What are you planning on doing with your new little toy once it finally arrives?”

Salvatore merely shrugs his shoulders. “It w-would be nice… i-if we c-could be f-friends… somehow… but…”

“Ya… you’re not exactly working with the latest and greatest set up, huh? Even a mutant girl might need a little bit to get adjusted to a face like that” Karl says.

“That’s c-certainly one way o-of p-putting it” Salvatore replies dejectedly.

Karl flinches slightly, which surprises Salvatore, since the younger man has a habit of caring very little for how his words affect those around him. Why on earth was he being so considerate, all of a sudden?

“Look, uh… what I meant to say was that… ok, so maybe you’re not like, the best looking guy ever, but like…” Karl stammers and stutters, trying desperately to figure out what he wants to say but seemingly coming up short every time.

Salvatore narrows his eyes again, suspicion returning. “You’re h-hiding something f-from me… w-what are you a-after, Karl?” Salvatore asks seriously, fixing the younger man with a stern look that he knows Karl recognizes.

“Hey, don’t you give me that fuckin’ look. I am too fuckin’ old for you to be looking at me like that, what am I, 12?” Karl asks.

“You c-certainly act l-like it… most of th-the time” Salvatore grumbles under his breath.

Karl clearly heard him, but knew better than to argue with the water not even a foot below where the two were currently sitting, his sunglasses having already taken a nice little dive as punishment for his big mouth. Salvatore might have only agreed to speak with Karl because the latter had demanded it, but they were still very much in Salvatore’s territory, and it wasn’t even a question of who had the topographical advantage should an “argument” actually break out between them.

Karl is strong, nobody can deny that. But Salvatore has the home advantage, and they both know it.

After a moment of tense staring, Karl finally breaks first, sighing heavily before tossing his finished cigar cap into the water below them, a crime Salvatore briefly contemplates knocking the younger man in for, before deciding against it, knowing, with his luck, that it would only come back to bite him in the ass later.

“Alright look,” Karl finally says, a look of frustrated determination on his face, “I don’t know what Miranda really has planned past her whole “get a suitable vessel for Eva” obsession, or what she’s really after on this mission of hers… but something about this whole situation going on recently just doesn’t feel right to me, and I think we need to do something about it before something bad happens and we all somehow end up dead. Now, I'm not 100% sure why I’m talking about this with the head of Miranda’s fuckin’ fanclub, but considering what my other 2 options were it wasn’t like I had much of a damn choice. My only saving grace right now is the fact that you’ll at least occasionally listen to fuckin’ reason, given your gaping maw can be yanked from Miranda’s tit long enough to hear me out, that is. It’s certainly better than my chances with Lady Super-sized Bitch and Crazy Psycho Doll, over there.”

“Are you s-sure you’re n-not just being p-paranoid?” Salvatore asks slowly, not wanting to offend Karl by outright stating he didn’t believe the younger man’s hunch, but also trying to figure out if Karl actually has something to be concerned about, or if he’s just looking for an excuse to badmouth Miranda.

“No, no no no, don’t you do this to me too, Sal” Karl begs in frustration. “You can go about the rest of your life loving the absolute shit out of that crazy woman if you want to and I won’t say a goddamn thing about it, but I need you to promise me, and I mean promise me, that if you see or hear something weird regarding Miranda and this little “trip” she’s about to go on, you come tell me so that we can at least make sure our own asses are covered when shit hits the fan.”

“Well… I-I uh…”

“Come on, Sal. None of these psychotic assholes have ever had my back like you, and that’s exactly the reason why I’m telling you all this” Karl says honestly, catching Salvatore off guard with the oddly familiar wording.

“I know I can be a royal fucking pain in the ass most of the time and that I’m not always the… nicest to you… even though you did kinda do... a bit for me here and there when I was a little tyke... But none of that matters now, because even if Miranda isn’t trying to hide something from us, with the two of us banded together, we could do whatever the hell we wanted while she’s gone, and neither of the other shitheads would be able to tell us otherwise. What do you say, Sal? Come on, you and me, together, just like when I was a kid, remember?” Karl asked excitedly, his eyes shimmering in boyish glee as he spouts off all the things they’d be able to get away with when Miranda finally left, the torment they’d be able to unleash upon Alcina being a particular favorite of Karl’s, it would seem.

Salvatore remained silent for a moment, contemplating the deal he’d just been given.

It’s… not a terrible deal, at least compared to some of the previous deals Salvatore has been offered in the past. It wasn’t like him agreeing to “ally” himself with Karl was a direct declaration of war against Mother Miranda or anything like that, merely a mutual effort that would guarantee safety for both him and Karl should Mother’s plan not go exactly as she wanted, which scientific experiments were known to do. Not to mention that giving Alcina a good messing with did sound like quite a bit of fun.

Maybe… maybe Karl was right. Maybe Salvatore was being a bit too much of a stick in the mud. It was just Karl after all, who Salvatore had practically raised, starting from the boy’s arrival into the family at 6 years old and more or less up until his factory was completed just after his 22nd birthday. Karl could certainly be a handful for even the most powerful individuals, but even on his worst days, he always found some backwards, convoluted way to apologize for his behavior.

“W-well… I-I’m not s-sure… I d-don’t know how I f-feel about… about d-doing things th-that Mother… wouldn’t a-approve of… just b-because sh-she’s gone...”

“But...” Karl continued for him.

“B-but I suppose… k-keeping each other u-updated… when we f-find… or h-hear s-something weird is… wouldn’t be… wouldn’t be th-the worst idea… in th-the world… e-even if it just t-turns out that… we w-were just being p-paranoid.”

“Excellent! That’s just what I was hoping to hear” Karl says triumphantly, standing up.

“A-are you l-leaving, already?”

“Ya” Karl affirms, “I’ve got work to do at the factory, and based on the look of things here, you were busy with a project of your own it looks like.”

Salvatore nods, pocketing his freshly finished cigar cap for later, proper, disposal. “I c-can’t even remember… the l-last time I… p-properly cleaned this p-place… it l-looks so m-much nicer… even w-without being f-fully finished…”

“Good for you. My own property could probably do with a good cleaning of its own now that you mention it. If nothing else though, I’m sure your new little lady friend will appreciate that you picked up the place for her arrival.”

“Y-you think s-so?” Salvatore asks.

Karl shrugs his shoulders. “Who knows with chicks, they’re unpredictable, but I suppose it’s possible. Then again, maybe not considering who you ended up with. I don’t know the full story or anything like that, but based on what I heard from Miranda, that blue bitch you went with was the craziest one of them all. Practically tore her pod apart the first time Miranda tried to put her in it, and caused all sorts of other damage throughout her mutation phase too, not that I blame the poor girl. I’d tear that whole lab right out from under the surface and set it ablaze if I could. Going back down there after so many years… I was puking like you for the rest of the fuckin’ day when I finally got out of that hellhole. Stomach still feels a little nauseous if I’m being honest...”

“I-I’m sorry… to h-hear that” Salvatore says, though Karl is quick to brush him off.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m a big boy and I can handle myself. But do we have a deal? Keep each other in the loop whenever we hear anything… strange or abnormal about Mother Miranda or her special little mission?”

Salvatore pauses for a moment, thinking one last time about whether this was a good idea, before finally shrugging his shoulders and nodding. “Y-yes, we h-have a deal… b-but just remember something, Karl… 40 years d-didnt do… nearly as m-much for your p-poker face as i-it did for your s-smart mouth. If I c-catch you lying to m-me-”

“Ya, ya, ya, you’ll chop up my body and toss my remains in the lake to feed the fishes, I’ve heard that one a million times before” Karl interrupts. “Don’t worry, Sal, if I was planning on lying to you at any point throughout this process, you’d have already caught me by now. Even I know better than to try pulling a fast one over the walking fuckin’ lie detector.”

“I’m h-holding you to th-that, Karl” Salvatore calls over his shoulder as the younger man stands and begins heading toward the gate to return to his factory, chuckling lightly when Karl returns his warning with a middle finger.

“Take it easy, old man. And let me know how that crazy fish bitch you ended up with turns out. If all else fails I’ll turn her into a nice stuffed pillow for you” the bespeckled man says, throwing his head back in laughter as though he’d told a funny joke, before adding, “And I’d better get my sunglasses back within the week, or else I’m draining the whole fucking reservoir so I can find them myself. Don’t think I won’t do it, old man.”

Salvatore merely returns the middle finger, a response that Karl seems to appreciate, if the wolfish howl of laughter the younger man let's out says anything, at least.

‘Cheeky brat. Always plotting something’ Salvatore thinks fondly to himself as he slips back into the water to continue cleaning the reservoir, quickly grabbing the green sunglasses that had sunk to the bottom and pocketing them to return to Karl later. He pauses for a moment when a thought crosses his mind.

Within the past 24 hours, both Mother Miranda and Karl had been… unusually kind and affectionate toward Salvatore, which pleased but also confused the twisted man.

Karl was easy enough to explain away, the younger man has been flip flopping between periods where he likes and spends time with Salvatore, and periods where he’d sooner set himself on fire than be in the same room as his older brother, since the day they met, so as far as Salvatore was concerned, Karl’s behavior was hardly breaking news, though perhaps a bit surprising given everything going on with Mother’s gifts. Mother Miranda, however, was a different story.

Usually more distant and hands-off in her parenting ways, Miranda had been uncharacteristically affectionate toward the disfigured man the night before, going as far as to openly praise Salvatore for all his hard work and even hold him without being asked to. It had been such a wonderful experience at the time and yet, the more Salvatore thought about it, the stranger and stranger the behavior seemed, especially now that Karl had confronted him.

Speaking of Karl… Mother seemed quite upset with him when she spoke of him the night before. Going as far as to badmouth him specifically, calling him a ‘conniving little snake’, despite the younger man usually being her favorite by a country mile. Had Karl done something to incur Mother’s wrath? Is that why Karl came all the way over here to make that deal with him? Is he trying to rally the 4 lords to rebel against Mother Miranda?

No... No, no no no, that couldn’t be true, there’s no way.

Even Karl, for all his incredible intellect and hunger for power, was too afraid of Mother Miranda to ever try anything as drastic as that. That being said however, even though Salvatore doubted that Karl would ever try to rebel against Mother Miranda, it did seem like the younger man was trying very hard to get Salvatore onto his side for some reason. In fact, both Karl AND Mother Miranda appeared to be trying to sway the eldest Lord in their favor, though for what reason, he still had no idea.

It was definitely something that made Salvatore slightly wary of the both of them, though.

There’s nothing in this world that Salvatore hates more than doubting his beloved Mother, but even he couldn’t write this oddity of a situation off as a mere one-off incident or sudden change of Miranda’s tune. Mother has been acting very strangely recently, doing things she wouldn’t normally do and acting overly affectionate as if to try and throw everyone off her tracks, and the longer Salvatore thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but wonder, as painful as it was to admit, if maybe Karl was actually onto something.

Logically, he knows that Karl is just being Karl, looking to stir up some trouble for his own, and supposedly Salvatore’s, amusement, and that Mother Miranda is likely just trying to enjoy the time she has left with her children before she leaves on her mission. However, something in the back of Salvatore’s mind can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s more going on than he’s been led to believe by either of them. And as if this situation couldn’t get any more confusing for the deformed man, now his overly anxious and analytical mind was beginning to understand what Karl meant when he said there was something strange going on, no matter how much the rest of him practically screamed to just listen to Miranda like he always has.

Shaking his head of his scrambled thoughts and turning his focus back to his work, Salvatore decides that the best thing he can do right now is keep an ear to the ground on both Mother Miranda AND Karl, just to be fair. He still isn't sure if he plans on being 100% honest with Karl regarding their deal, but he supposes that maintaining a good relationship with the younger man wouldn’t hurt in the event he turned out to be right and Mother’s plan backfired on all of them.

Besides, if Karl did turn out to be right, and Salvatore was ready for if things took a bad turn, he could still be there to rescue Mother Miranda and ensure she’s brought to safety along with them. He’ll have successfully fulfilled his family duties to both Karl and Mother Miranda, without ever having to actually choose which side he was definitively on. A perfect plan if the mutant man says so himself. Now the only thing left to do between now and whenever things started getting interesting was work on the reservoir and wait for his gift to finally arrive, his mood regarding this whole situation greatly improved thanks to Karl’s visit.

Hopefully, if things went well, he’d have some exciting news to tell the younger man the next time they met up.

Maybe he’d even have a new friend to introduce.

[wobblydev]

I recently joined the IWW because I believe workers should own their workplaces, what they produce, and be able to make decisions democratically within their workplaces. My co-workers aren't looking to organize with me, but I was wondering how I personally could benefit from being a member of the IWW. Does the IWW use direct action as opposed to negotiating (collective-bargaining especially)? Can they help improve my pay and working conditions?

Welcome to the one big union, fellow worker! I think the way you’ve phrased your question reveals a lot about the relationship between the union and its members. We are the union. When you pay dues and take out a red card, you are the union. You ask if “they” can help improve your pay and working conditions. The answer is no, not without your help.

That is a primary difference between solidarity unions (Such as the IWW) and the more common business unions—we use direct action (as you stated) to get the goods. Depending on the job, organizing workers may decide that pursuing a contract is their best option to win their demands, which is legitimate so long as the decision was arrived at democratically. Unlike the business unions, which very often do operate as a “they” in the life of the workers they are supposed to represent, every member of the IWW is a potential organizer. Today’s modern business unions are generally very hierarchical and undemocratic. Rank and file workers don’t have much say in how things are negotiated and often the contracts that unions end up signing totally surrender power to the bosses and owners, with no input from the majority of workers on the shop floor.

You say that your co-workers aren’t looking to organize with you? How do you know? Did you ask: “Hey, wanna organize?” That’s not going to work. Most workers today have no idea what a union is meant to actually achieve, much less how to actually build power on the job. The primary and sole focus of the IWW is to build worker power through direct, worker-led organizing campaigns. That means talking seriously to your co-workers, 1-on-1. It means listening, learning, mapping and brainstorming to help them realize that a guaranteed way to improve their working lives is to build and leverage worker power. 

To address your big question: what can the IWW do for you?

If you are serious about building power at your job, I would recommend first and foremost get trained. Reach out to the Organizer Training Committee (if you’re in the US) and see when the next OT101 is being held. There is an online module you can take which will give you tools and techniques to begin seriously organizing. Beyond that, there are other initiatives that wobblies participate in, such as the General Defense Committee and the Incarcerated Workers Organizing Committee, both of which can give you organizing experience without endangering your job.

If you think your job is totally hopeless, you could get trained and become an external organizer to assist fellow workers in organizing their own place of work.

You could join the Environmental Unionist Caucus and organize with fellow workers around the globe around environmental issues.

For over 100 years now the formula has proven to be successful: organize, use direct action, win. When done properly, even the most difficult job can be organized, with or without an official contract. The obstacles are myriad and the odds are stacked against us but if you want to get your hands dirty and learn how to fight for real power on the job, you’re in the right union.

If you’re in the US, all North American Regional Administration contacts can be found here https://iww.org/directory/

If you’re associated with a General Membership Branch or an Industrial Union Branch, have GHQ put you in touch with them and see about getting trained, or getting more involved in ongoing campaigns. If you’re not within the jurisdiction of a branch, you can join the At-Large Caucus and still get resources and support. As your organizing gains momentum, you could even charter a branch in your area.

If you need more specific help, feel free to reach out again and I’ll reply privately.

Again, welcome to the one big union!

[queenangst]

uraraka-centric fic recs

it’s time for my best girl! here’s a collection of 27 gen, uraraka-centric fic recs. a mix of mostly canon compliant fics and some aus; hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, and everything in between. 

for more fic recs, please check out my:  ‘fic rec’ tag | ‘bnha fic rec’ tag | ‘weekly fic roundup’ tag (bnha)

Starfire by Anonymous

gen; 2.6k; chapters 1/1 complete

Stars create gravity, and Uraraka wishes on herself.

It was impossible to make her own shooting stars, but that inspiration sounded like a touch of divinity. Only the imaginings of a god with their versatility of powers could be capable of involving outer space. Uraraka...dreamed of that.

Home for Christmas by sobakasuai

gen; 1.2k; chapters 1/1 complete

Ochako feels slightly pitiful about herself as she loads a few more cups of noodles into her shopping basket. Christmas Eve was a time spent with family— a time for gifts under the tree, multicolored lights in the windows, and sending cheesy postcards in the mail.

Yet here she is, stocking up on sustenance as she rushes to get back to the dormitories before it gets too dark to be comfortable with walking back alone. A violation of Christmas spirit in human form, feeling not unlike Ebenezer Scrooge.

Barology by MissAquarius

gen; 4.6k; chapters 1/1 complete

Barology: the study of gravity.

intersection by kiroiimye

gen; 1.2k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & bakugou

“Getting coffee, obviously.” She doesn’t want to meet his eyes and it’s only happened once before; the first times had been intimidation from hardened crimson eyes. But as the years went on, she had grown past that stage; he was more a classmate than enemy. “Would you like to—

“Nope.” It’s flippant, over-the-shoulder, but Bakugou makes no move to leave and Ochako can’t help but smile wryly.

It’s the sort of thing he’d pull when they were younger.

Ochako runs into Bakugou after graduation.

momentous by kiroiimye

gen; 2/6k; chapters 1/1 complete

She’s in the middle of a math lesson, ignoring the whispers behind her back when the rumbling starts. It’s a dull roar in the beginning, and it’s when the pens start rattling on her desk that she stops the lecture. Even the students have gone quiet in their seats, the room stilled with tension.

“Uraraka-sensei, what was that?”

Ochako squares her shoulders, lowering her voice. “I don’t know, but stay alert.”

And then the water comes rushing in.

Becoming a teacher was not part of Ochako's post-U.A. plans, and yet here she is. Standing in front of a raucous class of about twenty teenagers, who all seem to have it out for her. Really, why is she here again?

The Hunger for Survival by SingingCookie

gen; 6.2k; chapters 1/1 complete

People say your early life shapes you, really molds you into the person you’ll become. Likes, dislikes, the habits, the tics, and the pet peeves… A majority of that when you grow up is influenced by where you came from.

Ochako’s early life shaped her into someone who knew how to survive—but it was always the living that fell just out of reach.

one hundred percent by UnidentifiedPie

gen; 2.2k; chapters 1/1 complete

White like bone, Uraraka thinks, mind flashing back to the people she saw on the street. Civilians lying all around, eyes blank and staring and dead. The defeated hero, body a mangled mess, spilled organs and shattered, bloodied bone.

She’d watched that hero die. The villain Uraraka had fought had gripped him by the neck and supercharged his blood, contorted his body into something twisted and terrible. She’d run for him, something screaming in her heart and lungs and nononono-

-but she wasn’t fast enough. And it didn’t matter anyway; the man had been dead before he’d hit the ground.

Patchwork by bishounen_curious

gen; 6.8k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & 1a/1b girls

At the beginning of Third Year, Ochako suggests to the girls in the Hero Course that they make a patchwork quilt to commemorate their time together at U.A., their friendship and their solidarity as women in the hero profession. Something private and special that they all can share for years to come.

However, the quilt doesn't get finished. And it never does.

at long last by Quintessence

gen; 2.7k; chapter 1/1 complete; uraraka family

"Her parents were proud. The kind of proud that came from decades of unrelenting hard work matched in intensity only by their miserable luck. The kind of proud that made them refuse the money Ochako sent after her every paycheck. The kind of proud that was going to make a gift of the magnitude she planned to give go down as easily as a mouthful of chalky pills without water."

In which pro-hero Uravity finally achieves her lifelong dream of giving her parents an easy life.

got your six by Quintessence

gen; 1.6k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & bakugou

“Oh, yeah, they rejected my application,” Uraraka says, like it’s nothing, which, Bakugou decides, fists clenched under the table, it most certainly isn’t. “They’re mostly a combat-based agency, and they thought I’d be better suited for a rescue oriented one. So I’m gonna keep looking. I mean, Kurashiki Agencies isn’t the only game in town, so I’m a little bummed, but it’s okay.”

And then she has the nerve to smile, making her full, pink cheeks even rounder, shrug, and take a sip of her drink. Bakugou has to breathe deeply before he replies, because he really is working on not lashing out as much anymore, but the anger burns and bubbles like boiling water in his stomach.

“That’s the biggest fucking load of bullshit I’ve ever heard, Round-Face.” His teeth are clenched as he speaks, but at least he’s not yelling. “I mean, have they even seen what you can do? Or did they just take one look at your Quirk and fucking write you off?”

In which Uraraka gets rejected from a hero agency, and Bakugou is her most aggressive (and I mean aggressive) supporter.

Like an Onion by BigDangoFamily

gen; 3.7k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & aoyama, background/minor uraraka/midoriya

It was strange, Uraraka thought, how someone so sparkly and so over-the-top could fade into the background so easily. Even with his theatrical nature and his showy costume and his (quite literally) dazzling Quirk, Uraraka had somehow never noticed Aoyama that much.

He was a piece of the background; he helped make up the landscape of their class; he was a figure her eyes automatically skipped over in her search for her friends—which, when she put it like that, made it sound pretty harsh.

It wasn’t that she particularly disliked Aoyama. She would gladly enjoy time spent hanging out with anyone in Class 1-A (well, maybe not Mineta), and she was friendly to all her classmates. That was how she was. It was just that, somehow, her eyes had always seemed to glide right off of Aoyama.

Well, now her eyes definitely saw him, and quite clearly too.

OR: Uraraka unexpectedly comes to respect Aoyama.

Determination by chockfullofsecrets

gen; 1.1k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & midoriya

If Uraraka wants to win this sparring match, she’s going to need to find a way to put a stop to Deku’s endless determination.

perfidy by khattikeri

gen; 500 words; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & midoriya

She pressed the knife harder against Midoriya's throat.

Just Keep Floating by ProPinkist

gen; 2.9k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & all might

Ochako runs into Toshinori, hiding away alone in the dorms, who might could use a helping hand.

Luckily, in this case, she's just the right person for the job.

Uravity: (Kitten) Rescue Hero by TenyaTrash

gen; 1.4k; chapters 1/1 complete

Childhood Ochako is always looking for ways to excel as a rescue hero. She wants to help her parents, her friends, and the world.

And wouldn't you know it? She's got a knack for finding animals that are purrfectly in need of a rescue or two.

Every hero has to start somewhere!

Freefall by Cornflower_Blue

gen; 2k; chapters 1/1 complete

The first time it happens, it is an accident.

The first time it happens, Ochako is just walking around her neighborhood.

Cold Tea and Hot Tears by Wolfie_Dragon

gen; 2.6k; chapters 1/1 complete; minor uraraka/midoriya

When Ochako and the other work studies students are back at the dorms after the Shie Hasaikai raid, things are supposed to go back to normal. But Ochako finds she can't forget the horrible events. It's only in the dark of night that she finds that Deku is just as traumatized, if not more.

Scars by All_five_pieces_of_Exodia

gen; 2.4k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & dekusquad

When Ochako is training one day and gets injured because of it, she starts to wonder about scars and what the people who have them think of them.

But does she even want to know?

Normalcy Has Its Place by Madam_Chauncey

gen; 3.2k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & yaoyorozu

Sometimes a day of kickboxing with your gal pal is all you need. Or; Momo and Ochako decide to make the best of a bad week.

foundations by blueberrytree

gen; 2.5k; chapters 1/1 complete

Ochako drums her fingers anxiously on the surface of her desk. Why does she want to be a hero? It had seemed so clear before last night’s phone call—make money to support her parents and give them an easy life. Now, though? 

Gravitational Pull by Sky_King

gen; 2.9k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & dekusquad

Despite having been friends for a while now, Izuku soon realizes there's a lot he doesn't know about Uraraka.

And on the other hand, Ochako discovers that opening up to her friends might not be as frightening as she suspects it to be.

Sleep is for the Weak by baggytshirtsandtiredeyes

gen; 2.9k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & aizawa

Exhaustion was as familiar to Ochako as breathing. She was only fifteen but she felt more like she was edging on forty. But it was okay. She could just power through. She couldn’t stop now. Not when she was living her dream.

Catch Me When I Fall by baggytshirtsandtiredeyes

gen; 2.1k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & asui

Ochako feels like she's falling behind her classmates so she starts training alone. One night Tsuyu finds her and offers to help. If only they could have known what was going to happen.

If the Dress Fits by calamansifresh

gen; 2.4k; chapters 1/1 complete

It’s the day of the Annual Hero Awards Gala and Uraraka Ochako is in attendance as the recipient of the Rising Star Award. While she’s certainly proud of her heroic accomplishments, impostor syndrome rears its ugly head and she wonders if she really belongs in the spotlight.

caution, handle with care by SpiritusRex

gen; 2.7k; chapters 1/1 complete

It was an accident. Ochako reminds herself, as she cups her hand to her mouth and tries to keep the hot, bright blood from dripping through her fingers. It was an accident.

But Ochako knew, had witnessed, just how severe an accident could be.

She pulls her hand away, and her palm comes back with a jagged chunk of a tooth cradled in the center. The sight blurs in front of her eyes; a dot of white in a small pool of red.

Ochako takes a page out of Deku's book, and makes an impulsive, painful decision.

All Might for a day by PurpleCarSeat

gen; 9.3k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & all might

What had he been about to say?

Ochako expects it’s more of the same “push beyond your own limits!” stuff that he likes to spout, which always feels a little hollow coming from him because All Might doesn’t have limits. Despite what he claimed, she doesn’t think All Might has ever been weak. He’s the number one hero, perfect in every way. He can move faster than the eye can follow and jump so high he’s practically flying. He was probably trying to make her feel better – it seems like the sort of thing he’d do.

Or: Ochako learns the hard way that strength is more than just physical, and that the people at the top are only human too

Sacrifices and Jogging Routes by Quillium

gen; 5.8k; chapters 1/1 complete; uraraka & dekusquad

"We're heroes," she says instead, simply, quietly. It's hard to be excited about becoming a hero... every child's dream, what everyone idolizes... when you know the likely outcome. Most of her friends will die before her or she will be dead before they've even begun to sport wrinkles.

OR

Uraraka tries to figure out what it means to be a hero and the sacrifices that it entails.

[candlelight27]

Chapter 2: Reach For My Hand

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans… (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: Objetification (?), anxiety attack, curse words

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 4562

AO3: Reach For My Hand

A/N:  Sorry it took too long. My writing process is unpredictable. Besides, it was a boring chapter at first and I think I managed to make it interesting? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!  If you have suggestions, requests, theories or whatever leave a comment of come talk to me on tumblr - same username.

Your first week of university had passed all at once. Time flew between jotting down notes, going back and forth, meeting all your new teachers and, overall, trying to survive. Thankfully, Lysithea had shared all her notes with you, so you weren’t that lost – since Claude was keen on gossiping with you in the middle of lessons…

…And since Sylvain proved himself to be a huge distraction. And an active one, in fact.

The ominous day Byleth paired you with him, Sylvain had approached you after class. Hands in his pockets, his chest a little puffed and a glamorous grin on his face, he had the perfect pose to be on the cover of a teenage magazine. And with his casual tone, he nonchalantly asked you for your number..  

“We better stay in touch to finish the project”, he added. Your heart skipped a beat – or two or three – and you nodded. You hoped that excitement would go unnoticed. There was the slightest shyness in his voice, but you discarded the thought. It was absurd to consider you’d awaken even the smallest amount of insecurity in him, regarding the fact that he was the embodiment of confidence.

“Sure”, you smiled and grabbed a pen. Sylvain stopped you muttering a ‘wait’ and took out his phone. He opened a tab for a new contact.

“Here, write your number.” You took it and started writing. Then, it hit you that Sylvain actually knew how you were called. He had edited the blank space, where you saw all the letters that spelt your name standing triumphantly. He even had added a heart emoji next to it. So, even if he had never acknowledged your existence, he was aware of it.  

“Write me whenever you feel like it,” he said with a wink. Your name rolling out of his lips was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

As he went away and followed Mercedes out of the classroom, Claude rose his eyebrows.

“Well, that went better than expected. Our plan is running smoothly,” he hit you with his elbow.

“Your plan, Claude. I never agreed to it,” you sighed, while he just chuckled and let it be.

But that wasn’t the end of the phone matter. Not at all.

The next day you met your new teacher, Catherine. She was interesting, and she made her lessons about the Evolution of Warfare quite enjoyable – which was itself a great deed, in your opinion. However, there was a downside, and it was that the blonde woman talked your ears off with her millions of tales that weren’t that interesting and definitely not exam material.

It was early and you were barely awake when you felt the light vibration of a message on your mobile phone. Who could be at that hour? You looked next to you. Marianne was as still as a corpse, Claude was probably asleep and Lysithea was fiercely taking notes, so it was not any of them trying to be discreet. Ingrid would never use her phone during a lesson, so she was ruled out too.

With caution, you unlocked the screen of your phone and placed it on your lap.

Unknown 09:45: Are you bored too?

Did Dorothea change her number again?

You 09:46: Who are you?

Unknown 09:46: Look right 😊

You did. And you came across Sylvain waving at you. You saved his number quicker than you’d like to admit.

You 09:48: Good morning, Sylvain

You 09:48: And yes, I’m bored to death

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a smile gracing Sylvain’s countenance, and you felt like a schoolgirl all over again.

Sylvain 09:49: Is Claude asleep? For real?

You 09:50: Most likely…

And that was the beginning of your academic doom.

It turned out that Sylvain was a compulsive text-writer. He wasn’t shy about sending you millions of messages at any time. And you, foolish as always, responded every last one of them. Against your will, as you typed on your phone, butterflies flied around your stomach.

The first days, he limited your interactions strictly to Catherine’s lessons and breaks. But as the week progressed, you found yourself going to sleep a little later just to share a few more words with the infamous flirter.

You two didn’t have meaningful conversations at all. You talked about high school, books, films, you shared jokes and silly occurrences… Yet it made you feel that an already existing connection tying you with Sylvain was awakening. It was absurd, to think there was a bond that had been formed before between both of you, but you couldn’t cast aside that sensation. Like a distant memory of a dream you once had. Like the primal needs our bodies feel. You felt there was something that linked you with him, and it was ancient and significant.

When Claude discovered what you and Sylvain were up, he was delighted.

“Don’t you realize that’s just what we needed for our plan?”, he opened his eyes and leaned in closer, so your classmates wouldn’t hear him.

“Again, your plan, Claude”, you shook your head. “And you seem to be making it up as it goes.”

“Well, that’s my charm, darling,” he laughed, and went on playing with his phone. You threw him your best deadpan look.

With so many distractions, the weekend arrived in the blink of an eye. It was rather cloudy when you woke up, and late, because it was Saturday and you didn’t have any obligation. You rolled in bed, throwing away your blanket and yawning.

Then, you heard a thud next to you. It was your phone. You remembered you had been talking with Sylvain when you fell asleep. You deliberated if maybe it wasn’t better to ignore him for a day. You were starting to get your hopes up, and you wanted to avoid another disappointment. But as if your hands moved on their own, you opened the conversation to see what you had missed.

Sylvain 01:13: What do you mean you HAVEN’T seen Loog and the Maiden of Wind???

You 01:15: ??

You 01:15: What’s wrong?

Sylvain 01:17: It’s Ingrid’s favourite film!

Sylvain 01:18: More like, she loved complaining about how they got all the scenes from the book wrong

Sylvain 01:18: Still she made me watch it like 1819341973 times

You 01:19: She wanted me to watch it

You 01:20: I just happen to have really good excuses 😉

Sylvain 01:25: Well you are going to watch it with me

You 01:26: Why would I?

Sylvain 01:27: It’s called solidarity

You 01:27: I don’t have that

(Unread) Sylvain 01:31: ☹

(Unread) Sylvain 01:31: Please, suffer with me

(Unread) Sylvain 01:33: C’mon I promise I’ll be good, I won’t bite you

(Unread) Sylvain 01:33: Unless you ask me 😉😉😉

(Unread) Sylvain 01:35: So I’m going to believe that you’re asleep and are not in fact ignoring me

(Unread) Sylvain 01:34: Good night, princess <3

You sighed and got up. What were you getting yourself into? And what were you trying to achieve? ‘Don’t implicate yourself too much’, has said Claude, but you were already in too deep. But your friend probably knew as much and was plotting something entirely different.

Ignoring your best judgment, you started typing.

You 09:53: Good morning!

Goddess, you felt stupid.

“Good morning”, greeted Ingrid when you left your room. “I got some pastries for breakfast.”

“Nice.”

You sat next to her and started to munch on the first sweet piece you found. The television filled the room with a comforting background noise. You were half listening the weather and the news. Your phone suddenly beeped, indicating you had a new text message. You looked at the screen with discretion and unlocked it with an unbothered appearance, trusting Ingrid wouldn’t ask questions.

Sylvain 10:01: I unilaterally decided we’re watching the film today, princess

You couldn’t hide your expression, and Ingrid looked your way.

“Who are you texting?”, she tried to use a teasing tone. “I’ve never seen you so hooked on your phone. Is it Claude?”

There was no use in lying, so you’d answer thruthfully. You could even get some intel about Sylvain without revealing your game if you played your cards well.

“Oh, no. It’s Sylvain?” You feigned disinterest.

“Is he bothering you? I could scare him off,” she offered, with her eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Don’t do it.” A small and nervous laughter escaped your mouth at the idea.

“Don’t tell me he’s done it”, Ingrid said, and she rested her head on her hands, her attention focused on you.

“What has he done?”

“Charming you!”, she replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ingrid, I was paired with him for some project. That’s all,” you assured her.

“Well, just don’t fall for him. He can be very disgusting sometimes. He’s a good friend, but he’s not a good boyfriend.” She hummed. “As far as I know, of course.”

“Don’t worry,” you smiled, appeasing, “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s weird, though. He never texts anyone on his own accord. He always says it’s a waste of time.”

“It’s for the project. No biggie,” you affirmed, yet you knew you’d have to keep in mind that fact.

“Ah, that must be it,” Ingrid shrugged. “He may be always chasing skirts, but he’s very diligent with academic matters.”

You 10:15: I have a better idea

You 10:16: Let’s go to the library and start Byleth’s project

You weren’t ready for watching a film with him. In the best-case scenario, you’d faint like Bernadetta on your high school days.

Sylvain 10:17: The library? In this era of technology?

You 10:17: Yes.

Sylvain 10:18: Okay, fine

Sylvain 10:19: You are right, old-fashioned university professors love their bibliographies filled with books :/

Sylvain 10:19: But you owe me one film

You 10:19: … we’ll see.

You 10:19: Let’s meet at the library at 6 p.m.

“I’m going to the library with Sylvain today,” you commented to Ingrid.

“Do you mind if I invite Ashe over?”

Well, you weren’t expecting that. You noted mentally to compare notes with Dorothea, because now you didn’t have any doubt that there was something going on between her and Ashe. Never ever had she invited a guy before that wasn’t Felix, Sylvain, or Dimitri.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead, I don’t mind,” you encouraged her.

“Cool!”

 You were getting ready, mulling over what you were going to wear. You didn’t want to try too hard, this wasn’t a date, but nevertheless you wanted to look good – despite the fact that if anyone ever asked you, you’d completely refuse that thought had crossed your mind. It was absurd, but denial helped you to keep going.  

As you struggled to decide, you heard Ingrid biding you goodbye and the door being closed. You supposed she was going to meet Ashe and bring him to your place. You grinned to yourself. Immediately after, your phone started ringing. It was Dorothea. She had a distinctive melody that she sang herself for you. What on earth could have made her call you? She was the queen of voice messages.

“Yes?”, you began.

“You better tell me what the fuck is happening!”, she yelled with her usual dramatic twist.

“What is happening?” You were quite confused and tried to go over all the things she could be referring to.

“Don’t play dumb. First, Ingrid is all starry-eyed when she talks about Ashe and now you have a date with Sylvain? Is the water in your apartment poisoned?” You wondered how she found out, but Dorothea had a sixth sense for love affairs.

“Well, Ingrid is the one with an actual date,” you pointed to divert her attention. “I’m just going to the library because-”

“Because a project? Why does it sound so familiar? Ah, yes, it’s what I told my parents when I was going to make out with a classmate in high school. And don’t distract me throwing Ingrid to the wolves.”

“What do you want of me?”, you exclaimed out of frustration.

“A confession!”

“Who are you? Seteth?” You could hear Dorothea’s sweet laugh at your joke.

“How could I be so stupid? Your crush has been Sylvain all these years!”, she was creating a fuss on the other side of the phone. “I’m not going to lie, I didn’t expect that, not in the least.”

“You are assuming way too much.”

“Shut up! I guess Sylvain is a whole reason himself to keep it a secret, but you should have told me.” Dorothea made a pause. “My poor baby suffering all those years in silence! Aunty Dorothea is here to comfort you!”

“Quit the joking. Now tell me what I should wear for my not-a-date”, you said indignantly.

“Oh, right. Do you recall the Red Canyon? You definitely should put on that thing you wore. It will catch his eye, but it doesn’t seem way too elaborated.”

“Thank you, Dorothea, you are a genius. Are you reading my mind?”

“Really? I can see right through you”, she giggled. “You haven’t changed. And I would you why you are so worried about your clothes when it’s not a date, but you’d just mutter any excuse and ignore me altogether.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Now, inform me of you not-a-date with Sylvain when you’re finished right away, okay?”, she finished with her motherly intonation.

“Fine, fine! Goodbye, I have to go now!” You saw the time and it was really late.

You got dressed in a hurry and grabbed your laptop, some notebooks and a couple of pens.

 By the time you arrived at the library, Sylvain was already there. He was looking around, his bag grabbed laid causally on his back, hold by the handle with his strong fist. His other hand was resting in his pocket.

While his appearance was laid back, you were a bundle of nerves. As soon as your gaze found him, you felt a knot form in your gut. You denied that the young man could have that kind of effect on you, but the evidence was overwhelming. Why did it have to be so difficult in person? It had been so easy when you didn’t have to see his face – so handsome it was unnerving. You were the opposite you had been on your telematic conversations, far from your calm, charming and charismatic charade.

He was wearing a simple long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. It was a mystery for you why he didn’t opt for a modelling career. You forcibly reminded yourself that despite his beauty, he was a Don Juan, totally uninterested in you. You chanted Claude’s words ‘see what happens, don’t implicate yourself too much’ as you approached him.

Suddenly, his tan eyes focused on you as he recognized your figure, so you composed yourself the best you could. His lovely lips displayed a soft smile.

“Hey, Sylvain”, you greeted with an affected amiability. Still, you were tense.

“Hello there, princess.” He winked at you. “It’s nice to see you outside the classroom.”

“Yes, it’s refreshing,” you nodded.

You entered the big building with Sylvain at your side. Neither of you said anything, justifying yourself in the mandatory silence of a library. Some girls giggled as you walked past them, pointing at you two. And you noticed Sylvain looked a bit annoyed. The next thing you noticed was your teacher Catherine distracting the black-haired librarian with her nonstop chatter.

You turned your head to comment something to him, but he grinned, and you forgot your words. You simpered back, and he seemed content with that.

At last, you were in the ‘working-group’ area. The library itself was almost empty – but Dorothea told you it would be filled to the brim during finals week. There were some students chatting and taking notes, but not too many since most of the would be probably going to bars, pubs, and discos. And it was right then when it hit you that Sylvain was not in some sort of date or in a quest to gain the favours of a pretty girl.

So far, you had detected two oddities in his behaviour. Texting and spending a Saturday evening in the library. And the common factor was you.

“Where should we start?”, asked Sylvain as he took a seat, startling you since you were absorbed in your thoughts. You mimicked him and made up your mind.

“Let me thing”, you said. At the same time, you took your laptop from your bag and turned it on. “Since we have to talk about the early history of Faerghus… maybe we can cover the foundation first?”, you suggested. Sylvain had a notebook and a pencil and started scribbling an outline of the project. “We’ll need… a biography of Loog. Or two. And a history book about the 8th century.” You peeked his handwriting. It was neat, with small letters. His S’s had an characteristic flourish.

“I have a good book on the Crescent Moon War, which is also a theme featured in our project”, he said, staring at his sheet. “Well... it’s Miklan’s”, Sylvain grimaced as he added that part, “but I can borrow it.”

“That’d be great.”

“Do you know what’d be great?”, he looked at you. “Watching Loog and the Maiden of Wind! I don’t know what you have against films. It would have been a perfect way to spend our Saturday.”

“Again?”, you laughed.

“It’s for research purposes. No fishy business here.” He placed the palm of his hand over his chest. “Scout’s honour.”

“If I accept will you focus on out project?”, you bit your lip.

“Yes! I promise.”

“Okay. How about we watch it once we’re finished?”

“It’s a deal.” He winked again, looking satisfied with himself. Then, he stood up. “I’ll look for the books we need. In the meantime, you can search on the Internet some good articles on the controversies of Loog’s biography.”

At the moment he vanished, you breathed deeply to calm your heart, since you could almost hear it thudding in your chest. This meeting had been more awkward than you had expected, at least on your part. You wondered if Sylvain was feeling it too, the rusty mechanism of two people who knew each other but had never held a whole conversation in real life.

And all the same… It didn’t feel bad, being next to Sylvain. It was great, even if you were on edge. If you didn’t know it was impossible, you’d describe that sensation as familiar. A déjà vu of some sort, as though you had gone over this stage with Sylvain a million of times and every time your pulse shot up.

You tried to concentrate on looking for articles. You found a couple of them that could be useful, singed under big names of the field that would increase the credibility of your work.

You were absentminded during the rest of your search, trying to figure out how to be natural in your next conversation with Sylvain. You were a little insecure, even when Sylvain seemed to be comfortable with you. Your head was full of what ifs.  

“I got our books!”, Sylvain announced cheerful, interrupting your worry.

He sat again next to you. And you swore he was closer than he was before. You could feel the heat emanating from him, warming your arm. And you could hear him breathing. His scent reached you. He had used just deodorant, which along with his natural smell was intoxicating. His shoulder bumped into yours in what looked like a premeditated manner.

“We could split the work. Maybe we could work together on the main structure and the final draft, and work on the information on our own…”, you said as you tried to concentrate on the pile of history volumes rather than any matter related to Sylvain. Otherwise you’d forget how to speak.

“That seems fair.”

Sylvain made himself comfortable, resting his chin on the hand opposite to you. This way he had a perfect view of what you were writing on your computer – and your face, but you refused to believe he was that interested in you. He was invading your personal space in every way and he didn’t care.

“What do you prefer?”, you asked, all professional. You weren’t going to move away.

“I don’t mind, love,” he shrugged. “What do you prefer?”

“Sylvain, we are a team. You should give your opinion.” He remained silent and you dared to turn your head away from the screen of your laptop. He was smiling, but his eyes were half-close, as if figuring out what you were thinking. “Sylvain?”

“Ah, yes.” He blinked. “We’re a team.” He stopped, savouring the word. “I’ll take the Crescent War Moon in that case.”

He then wrote a couple of lines on his notebook. You could see he was writing down a list of ideas on bullet points. You did the same on a sheet of paper you had on you. After a couple of seconds, he talked again.

“Thanks for taking into consideration my preferences,” he placed his arm around the back of your chair.

“Why wouldn’t I?”, you questioned seriously. You were at total lost with him, so you leant in closer. You couldn’t care less, you were just playing his game. He acknowledged it, because you could see him narrowing his eyes at your movement.

“Let’s say some people is not as nice.”

You didn’t answer. What could have you said? It was not what you were expecting him to reply.

Breaking the bubble that you both had formed around you, two girls appeared out of nowhere. They were the ones you had seen before when you entered the building. Instinctively, you distanced yourself from the redhead.

“Sylvain?”, one of them started. They both were wearing fake grins.

“Do I know you?”, Sylvain asked, showing a bit of discomfort.

“Of course? We had a date in summer!”, the girl continued. She hadn’t taken the hint. “So, my friend and I were wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight, go to a bar, then you could come to our apartment, you know…”

You opened your eyes in surprise at the girl’s forwardness. And judging by Sylvain’s astonishment, he wasn’t expecting either such a direct and shameless offer. Did Sylvain have to deal with that too often? It made you feel uneasy. Of course, Ingrid would say he’d deserve it, because he had cultivated his reputation himself, but every part was so wrong. The way they talked to him as if he was a piece of meat, they way they looked at him.

“I’m afraid I must decline your offer, darling,” he talked in his most conciliatory voice.

“What? Really?”, said the other friend, huffing. “You said he’d agree.”

“Well, I’m working on a project with my friend, so… I’m quite busy.”

“I can’t believe you are rejecting us, Sylvain,” she made a disgusted face. “Anyways, your choice. Enjoy your new girlfriend, but I guess it will last like one week before you can find someone better.” Then, they turned around, looking behind a few times and gossiping.

“What the hell?”, you wondered, bewildered.

“Just my routine”, he sighed.

“We can continue another day, Sylvain”, you tested the waters. You sensed something was wrong and that he wanted to go home, and you had the feeling that he wouldn’t admit it by himself. “It’s getting late anyways.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Let’s go” He put the piece of paper inside one of the pages of a volume he was going to take. “We can meet other day to put everything together.”

“Of course.” You started putting away your things back in your bag. Sylvain was no longer smiling.

“Can you pass me that book?”, he pointed at the red one you had on your side.

You took it and offered it to him. He extended his hand, and when he placed his fingers around it, they brushed yours. Your heart started to beat fast.

Yet before you could make sense of the occurrence, a stabbing pain stroke you. It felt like a spear had pierced through you, right below your chest. It was so real, so shocking, tears started to form on your eyes. You felt blood coming out, but when you looked for it, there was nothing there. The pain was beginning to expand, a wildfire burning your torso.

You put your palm where you felt the pain, unable to breathe. Suddenly, Sylvain realised something was wrong. You were opening your mouth to take in oxygen, but it was in vain.

“What’s happening?”, he could be shouting your name, but you couldn’t listen because the only thing you heard was a rush on your ears.

He grabbed your arm, but it only made it worse. It made all those strange phenomena more sharp and real. You whispered a faint ‘let me go’, and Sylvain moved away immediately. His steps were so fast he hit the chair and it fell down.

All of a sudden, when his skin wasn’t in contact with yours, everything subsided.

“Are you okay?”, Sylvain asked, alarmed. You hadn’t seen him that serious in all your life.

“Yes. I…”, you didn’t finish the sentence. Instead you recovered your breath slowly.

“Stop making so much noise! And don’t break the furniture!”, a kid appeared from behind one of the bookcases. His hair was dark brown, and he wielded a broom that he used to threaten. You felt a little embarrassed, so you muttered an apology before grabbing your things and almost running to the exit. Sylvain followed you closely.

“Are you okay?”, Sylvain repeated once you were on the street. As far as you could tell, he was concerned, but more than worry, his eyes displayed suspicion and curiosity.

“Yes. It’s nothing, I just had a problem breathing… maybe it was the dust”, you brushed it off.

“It might have been an anxiety attack. Some people have a lot during their first year at university”, he noted. His smile came back, reassuring. It was incredible how his demeanour could change so quickly. “What a day, huh?”, he laughed. “We should meet again soon. I had fun despite everything.”

“Despite the awkwardness too?”, you replied, both playful and too exhausted from the experience to second-guess your interactions with him.

“What do you mean? That was the best part!”

“C’mon Sylvain!” You denied with your head.

“I don’t know, okay? It just felt nice. You make good company.” He was staring off inro space, and you hoped in the most obscure part of your heart that he was being honest.

“Oh, and you realize that now?”, you teased.

“Better late than never,” your classmate added.

“I suppose.”

Step by step you started walking in the same direction. You were in silence. Each of you had much to make sense of. You weren’t paying attention to the time, until you reached a familiar crossing.

“I’m going this way”, you said as you signalled your direction.

“I’m happy we got paired up in class,” he stated. He was just as handsome as when you met him, but he had a sadder air.

“Me too. See you later, Sylvain.”

“See you.” He stood there, watching you disappear into a corner. Then, he talked to himself. “What a day…”

[eleanorbloom]

[OH] When You’re Ready (Bryce L. x f! MC x Ethan R.)

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything of the Open Heart World, it belongs to Pixelberry Studios. The name Eleanor Bloom and her story was created by me.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey. 

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning: Some angst, adult language, some adult situations. This is definitely a NS-FW fanfiction so anyone under 18 years old MUST NOT READ IT.

Summary: Bryce has decided to let go of Eleanor because she’s in love with Ethan Ramsey. But a turn in her relationship with the attending might change Bryce's plans.

_____________

Chapter 1: Why.

So many nights trying to find someone new

They don’t mean nothing compared to you

 He opened the door of his apartment, staggering. The celebration at Donahue’s had been wilder than he expected. Too many tequilas he couldn’t deny to Jackie. And too much anxiety to kill with alcohol.

Bryce sat on the sofa and sighed. He finally had a break to process what had happened today. Eleanor was safe. The Ethics Committee had decided to not suspend her, and Teresa Martínez’s family had withdrawn the lawsuit against Edenbrook, as they were grateful for what Eleanor did for their mother. In the end, all her effort and dedication had been rewarded.

He was happy about it, but more relieved that Eleanor wouldn’t leave. Bryce had been feeling increasingly afraid of that possibility, although he was trying to stay positive. The world wasn’t a fair place, the doctors didn’t have to understand the real reasons that led Eleanor to help Teresa Martínez. They would only see incompetence, malpractice, but never the honest desire that Mrs. Martínez enjoyed her last days traveling, just as she always dreamed since she was a child.

The very idea that things had been different caused him intense pain. Thinking of all the suffering that Eleanor could’ve to go through was almost unbearable. Also, the fact that she had to leave and he couldn’t see her anymore. But mainly it was her pain that affected him the most. She was one of the few people who deserve all the good in the world, for her kind heart, her dedication, her solidarity with her colleagues and patients. She didn’t deserve anything that was happening to her, but at least it was all was over now.

And now another thought came to his mind: Eleanor was with him right now. With Ethan Ramsey.

He wished with all his heart that whatever they had now would work for them, because she was truly interested in him, to his misfortune. But he respected her decision. From the day she told him that they couldn’t keep their casual hookups because she was feeling things for Ethan Ramsey, he respected her decision and wished her well. Every time Bryce saw her or saw them, he wished them all the best from the bottom of his heart, although they were apparently far from it.

Since Ramsey had left the hospital, he hadn’t reached out to her not a single time, not even to ask how she was or to support her in the difficult process she was living with the Ethics Committee. What asshole leaves Eleanor at a time like that, when she was supposed to be someone Ramsey cared about? When she heard from Eleanor that Ramsey had not contacted her, he felt uncontrollable anger but did his best to not say anything. Yes, he was suffering for his friend, Naveen Banerji, but Eleanor, with his life on the verge of collapse, still cared for Banerji and him, she hid the secret from her friends and colleagues, and then, when she found the cure for the old man, she used her time to cure him instead of preparing for the Ethics Hearing. But the Great Ethan Ramsey couldn’t give her a fucking hour just to support her because it was more important his suffering and sense of failure than what Eleanor was going through.

Eleanor had left him for a selfish, insufferable ass who was unable to use his position or his freedom and time to support her when she most needed it. Instead, Bryce had spent all the time he needed to recover from the poorly sleeping hours every surgical resident has since Medical School, acompannying and helping her to get the support of senior physicians from Edenbrook.  

Well, yes, in the end, Ramsey did use his contacts to help her. But of moral support? No signs.

And now she was with him. He saw her approaching Ramsey when he entered Donahue’s, and how quickly they left.

Bryce couldn’t judge her; it was her feelings after all. But he sensed that the following events wouldn’t be good news. There was the rumor that Ethan Ramsey would return to his old position at Edenbrook, so he would continue that stormy dynamics of setting limits with Eleanor because he was her boss, but still breaking those limits at the slightest pressure. And he would continue to have Eleanor in limbo, waiting for him to make up his mind and choose her despite his fears. Waiting for him to decide to give her everything she deserved without conditions or hesitation. All that love, attention, and affection that he wanted to give her, and that somehow were still there, waiting for his chance.

He sighed again.

“Everything happens in time, Bryce. Don’t rush it, ” he said to himself before making his way to his bedroom to catch some sleep.

The next day, the good news were announced. Harper Emery left her position as Chief of Medicine and would return to her scrubs as Head of Neurosurgery. Naveen Banerji would take her position, so Ethan Ramsey was officially Director of Diagnostics. The last big news was that Eleanor had won the junior fellow competition and would be spending her second year of residency as a junior member of the Diagnostic Department.

He was so happy for her because it was something she really deserved. All the sweat, blood, and tears that she had put into that competition had found its reward. Besides, she deserved it for her human qualities. However, he also knew that the news implied a turn in her relationship with Ramsey. Aside from being her boss, now they would be colleagues, they would work much closer, and if Ethan already intended to put boundaries between them, her position in the Team would put much more difficulty on that. Bryce didn’t want to take this news as a light at the end of the tunnel, an opportunity after so much confusion, but he couldn’t lie to himself. Deep down he wanted this to complicate things, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to see Eleanor suffering again. He wasn’t a selfish bastard to want something like that.

Bryce saw the exchange of awkward glances between Ethan and Eleanor, while Naveen Banerji gave them a knowing smile. It was clear that the old man knew what was going on between the two and didn’t seem to care at all. Probably Naveen would be in the front line encouraging Ethan to stop being such an idiot and accept his feelings for Eleanor. Hell, if he himself didn’t have feelings for Eleanor, he would be by Banerji’s side, with popcorn cheering Ramsey to finally make up his mind and stop making Eleanor suffer. But of course, that was not the case. He was hopelessly in love with her.

Ethan looked away, embarrassed, and quickened his pace to catch up with Naveen. Eleanor turned to him. Her smile was so bright that the sun would be jealous of the light, warmth and beauty that emanated from her, happiness and pride swelling her heart.

Bryce opened his arms, inviting her for a hug.

“C’mere!”

Eleanor cheerfully received the hug, rejoicing in the warmth she only found in Bryce’s arms. From the first hug many months ago, both hiding in a supply closet, Eleanor had been conscious of the healing powers of his hugs. At that time, he consoled her of her first breakdown on her first day at Edenbrook. And now, that embrace was simply showing the pride and happiness Bryce was feeling for her achievement. He, who had always trusted her, even more than herself. He, who had always shown her the way to self-confidence and fight for what she believed in.

“You did it, Elle. You really did it”

“Yes! I am still in shock. Yesterday, this time, my life was still threatened, and look at me now! I won the competition. Well, not technically because it was finished when Ethan left … But I was chosen by Naveen Banerji himself, my mentor’s mentor”

“Yes, and the guy whose life you saved. It was the least he could do”.

“Well, I think so,” She shrugged, “But I’d like to think that I made it for all my merits in the competition.”

“Of course, Elle. You deserved this spot more than anyone, apart from being an excellent doctor, you are an extraordinary human being. And that’s what makes you better than anyone.”

“Aww Bryce,”Eleanor hugged him again, touched, “You’re always so flattering. I hope someday I know my qualities just as well as you know them.”

“Well, just keep hanging out with me and this self-assurance will infect you. But be careful, our friends could stop tolerating you as they do with me sometimes because my ego is too big.”

“Oh, I think I could reach a healthy balance between knowing my worth and not overstepping the limits of self-centeredness”

“Oh, are you implying I’m out of it?”—Bryce raised an eyebrow, serious.

“No, but you are always very close to the verge. Since you haven’t surpassed it yet, that’s why I still consider you my friend”

“Oh, you honor me,” He feigned a modest bow.

“Well, I should get back to my patients before the attendings chew me out for wasting my time with a scalpel jockey.”

“Oh my gosh, Eleanor, how can you be so cruel to someone who treats you well and fills your soul with self-confidence? I think the position went to your head”

“Who are you again? ”She asked, looking at him from head to toe.

Bryce grinned, “I’m going to become Harper Emery’s favorite and I’ll be the one to ask you who you are. We all know that surgery is more popular than internal medicine.”

They both laughed.

“You are such a child, Lahela. Never change.”

Eleanor raised the palm of her hand.

“I won’t, "Bryce replied as they high fived. 

He saw her leaving to the Nurse's Station at a light pace.  He couldn’t suppress a smile. He was extremely happy to see her succeed on her first day back at Edenbrook. She deserved that and more.

As he supposed, things between Eleanor and Ethan didn’t go well. From what he could observe and the things he heard from Eleanor’s drunken babbling, Ethan was trying to set serious boundaries between them, but not strong enough to prevent them from ending up kissing in his office to kill the tension or suppress the pain of not being able to be together as much as they wanted, simply because Ethan didn’t want it that way.

As the weeks went by, the situation became increasingly annoying to Bryce. Although he had made up his mind to forget Eleanor, he still unconsciously wanted her to realize that he was everything she needed and deserved. And he felt stupid waiting for her because it was clear that Eleanor had no eyes for anyone but Ethan, even if he kept ignoring her.

His annoyance reached such a point that one day he made the decision to avoid any contact with Eleanor and her friends as much as he could. He began to spend time with his surgical mates in his interest to meet new people and lose himself in the sea of parties and girls with whom to spend the night.

That night, he went to Donahue’s with the interns knowing that Eleanor and her friends had a night shift, so he wouldn’t have to meet her. He took a seat next to Rosa and Charles.

“You had a fight with your nerdy medical friends, or what?” Rosa asked when she saw him take a seat.

“No, why?”

“Because you have been spending a suspicious amount of time with us lately, when you used to be with them all the time.”

“I needed a change,” he shrugged nonchalantly,“Now that the competition’s over, there’s not so much gossip around them.”

“Sure, ”Rosa replied, not convinced.

A few shots later, several surgical residents were gathered. Including a third-year resident Bryce had always found attractive because she had an air of Shania Twain, and she was the first musical crush he had ever had.

Apparently, the reputation of being Bryce Lahela was also well received by older residents, because after two hours of drinks, Bryce was there, crossing the door to his apartment with his arms wrapped around Caroline’s waist, the attractive surgical resident who aspired to specialize in plastic surfery.

The woman was incredibly neat and was dressed impeccably. She had an exquisite aroma and a look so inquisitive that it seemed like she was looking through his skin. Although, she was actually scrutinizing his skin.

“I can’t believe it’s real,” she said, touching his cheeks with her fingertips.

“Me? Of course I am.”

Caroline rolled her eyes up, “No, your skin. I was always struck by how smooth it looked, like you were a doll. And I think you are.”

“I think this level of observation is more intimidating than having to pose for an hour naked in front of the whole hospital”

“I bet you wouldn’t mind spending your life walking naked with that body you have.”

“And I won’t in a couple of moments either.”

Caroline cut the distance between their bodies with one swift movement, kissing him. They continued their journey to the room, where the clothes went down the floor and the four walls muffled the moans and exclamations that came from their bodies. And so came the culmination of that long-awaited search for pleasure on the skin of another woman, with the intention of erasing the marks of someone from the past, believing that it would help him end his agony.

“Crap, Lahela. I always try to have low expectations, but you have proven me wrong.”

“Prove you wrong?”

“I thought you weren’t the wonder that people said, but you are.”

But no. Instead of ending with the ego energized by ending up banging with the woman he intended to, and even more flattered for his performance; Bryce ended with an existential void that decomposed him the entire night.

“And you are as attractive as I imagined you would be, since my first week as a surgical intern.”

Caroline didn’t know it, but those were the hollowest words Bryce had ever said. Without true charm, candor, interest, or desire. And he said them just to not be rude with her. 

“Shut up, it sounds like you have a crush with your elementary school teacher, and we don’t have that much of an age difference”

Bryce simply gave her a humorless smile.

He woke up the next morning with the bed empty.

He sighed with relief. The truth was he had no intention of dealing with Caroline or faking a smile or joking about the night before, because he was in such a shitty mood, he hoped it would at least let him greeting the staff and patients before locking himself in his bad mood.

In his intention to try to be better about the situation with Eleanor, he was worse now.

Weeks later, he tried again, but with the same result. During the encounter, he couldn’t help but wish that she was the one in his arms, or that she was by his side after the act was over. Was it Caroline, or any other resident, or even a Tinder date, the result was the same. He still missed her, he still imagined her features and the beautiful expressions on her face when he had another woman in his bed.

Bryce finally understood that the lie of filling the void she had left with other women had only increased his pain, so he decided to not be with a woman again until he had begun to heal. And to do it, he had to learn to deal with Eleanor and her friends. He couldn’t use the technique that so much criticized Ethan Ramsey, so he stopped being so reluctant to the company of Eleanor and her roommates, and returned to spend time with them.  It wouldn’t be easy,  he was sure about that, but it had to be done.

_________

A/N:

Hello everyone!

So, here I am posting my first Choices Fanfic ever. I’ve been working on it for a while because I have the bad habit of publishing things and then don’t finish them.

This is a challenge for me because it’s written in English, which is not my mother language. I’m a Spanish speaker, so, I’ve been reading and polishing my vocabulary and looking for more informal expressions and slang to make this fanfiction less boring or formal. So I apologize in advance if my narration is weird, my grammatic is wrong or if I have misspelled words. I appreciate your patience and if you have any advice of how I can better my writing skills, it’s welcome!

I’m an old school fanfiction writer, which means my fanfic will be LARGE compared to most of the fanfics that are here. I really admire the people who write drabbles or one-shot fanfics without previous fanfics to referred or just with a prompt list! This will have at least 20 chapters (I’m still deciding if I merge some or not, so that’s why I don’t have an exact number) because it’s a slow burn story.

Oh, another thing. The title of the fic and all the chapters are song-inspired. The title’s fanfic and the plot are inspired by Shawn Mendes’s song. At the beginning of each chapter, you’ll find the lyrics that inspire the plot of each one.

Well, enough verbiage. Welcome to When You’re Ready. I hope you enjoyed it!

Let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list.

Eleanor.

____________

Chapter 2.

[taylorscottbarnett]

TRANSCRIPT, with some [additions] added for clarity:

President Obama, ever knowledgeable the weight his words carry in the Democratic Party, and unwilling to tarnish his reputation with mudslinging has very rarely spoken up about his predecessor or the 2020 race, primary or general election.

That's fine. He has more than enough people who will do that for him. Obama's voice carries unique weight in the Democratic Party, his ability to influence and help guide the party is unparalleled in modern politics with the exception of Donald Trump's iron grip on the Republican Party. However while the GOP and RNC cower in fear of Trump's ire and twitter account, reshaping the entire party to suit his wants, the Democratic Party looks to Obama with respect and reverence, with an awe that very few political leaders in the last hundred years or so can come to manage. Some of the most notable: FDR, Kennedy, LBJ, Ronald Regan, and Bill Clinton. Much like Obama himself, each of these leaders shaped and guided their party and the country, leaving large legacies and reshaping both their political parties and the country for the betterment of future generations. That's not to say they are all without fault, but no one can say they didn't rise to the occasion and have extremely long shadows. Each of them left a legacy of moving the country forward in one way or another -- something no historian will ever say of Donald Trump's one term in office. Trump will be forever linked as an administration of incompetence not seen since the presidencies of William Henry Harrison, John Tyler, and Zachary Taylor, the administrations of Franklin Pierce, and James Buchanan, and one that historians will no doubt find to be a more disastrous one.

As ever Obama remains cool and level-headed even out of office, refusing to engage in taunts and call-outs from Trump. The most damning rebuke he's done on Twitter in reply to Trump's attacks has been a simple word to his followers and supporters: Vote.

The few times he's engaged in national events it's only been to project himself as America's Dad -- occasionally filling the void Trump has left in his unwillingness to be a leader, to be someone who unites the country. To offer a glimmer of light against Trump's unwillingness to be presidential or understand either the awesome power and responsibility that comes with the Oval Office or America's unique position in the worlds global order as a bastion of balance, one that has spent decades building the structures, institutions, and allied relationships the world relies on. President Obama has offered tips and links from his Twitter account, linking articles citing experts on issues like pandemics and how to combat COVID-19, while Trump wallows in self-pity, lamenting that the pandemic is "unfair" to him, and racist deflection, calling it the "Chinese virus" and that he "takes no responsibility" that it is even a "hoax" made up to hurt him. [Trump] in contrast constantly blames his predecessor, making up easily debunked lies; like the previous administration left no plan, no supplies -- even though this was quickly knocked down by Obama Administration alumni, highlighting things like that they left a playbook after dealing with Swine-flu in the event another pandemic cropped up. What they learned, what worked, what failed. What could be useful, what could save lives. President Obama never names Trump when calling out current events, remaining above the fray, going up to the edge of condemning Trump but never naming him, nor does he offer policy suggestions:

“We should soundly reject language coming out of the mouths of any of our leaders that feeds a climate of fear and hatred or normalizes racist sentiments; leaders who demonize those who don’t look like us, or suggest that other people, including immigrants, threaten our way of life, or refer to other people as sub-human, or imply that America belongs to just one certain type of people.” - President Barrack Obama

Obama constantly keeps with a long-standing tradition of former presidents not fighting current presidents. It's an extremely small alumni group. Even though many had their own fights with each other and called out each other constantly while running or in office -- Bush, Obama, the Clinton's, they also understand and respect each other for how hard the job is to do. They also know that while each had policy differences, they never set out to hurt America or enrich themselves. Each did what they felt was right to move the country forward -- something Donald Trump has not only failed to achieve, but actively worked against America's interest and safety just to benefit his own selfish pride. [Trump lavishes in] Bashing America's democratic allies and heaping praise and adoration on our enemies -- to sum it up and quote a great American president:

“Look around, strongman politics are ascendant, suddenly, whereby elections and some pretense of democracy are maintained, the form of it, where those in power seek to undermine every institution or norm that gives democracy meaning.The free press is under attack, censorship and state control of media is on the rise. Social media, once seen as a mechanism to promote knowledge and understanding and solidarity, has proved to be just as effective promoting hatred and paranoia and propaganda and conspiracy theories.People just make stuff up. They just make stuff up. We see it in the growth of state-sponsored propaganda. We see it in internet fabrications. We see it in the blurring of lines between news and entertainment, we see the utter loss of shame among political leaders where they’re caught in a lie and they just double down and they lie some more. It used to be that if you caught them lying, they’d be like, ‘Oh, man’— now they just keep on lying.” - President Barrack Obama

[sweetness-of-faith]

In giving advice to his companions, the noble Prophet, peace be on him, once said: "Learn the Quran from four persons: Abdullah ibn Masud, Salim Mawla Abi Hudhayfah, Ubayy ibn Kab and Muadh ibn Jabal."

We have read about three of these companions before. But who was this fourth companion in whom the Prophet had so much confidence that he considered him a hujjah or competent authority to teach the Quran and be a source of reference for it?

Salim was a slave and when he accepted Islam he was adopted as a son by a Muslim who was formerly a leading nobleman of the Quraysh. When the practice of adoption (in which the adopted person was called the son of his adopted father) was banned, Salim simply became a brother, a companion and a mawla (protected person) of the one who had adopted him, Abu Hudhayfah ibn Utbah. 

Through the blessings of Islam, Salim rose to a position of high esteem among the Muslims by virtue of his noble conduct and his piety. Both Salim and Abu Hudhayfah accepted Islam early.

Abu Hudhayfah himself did so in the face of bitter opposition from his father, the notorious Utbah ibn Rabi'ah who was particularly virulent in his attacks against the Prophet, peace be upon him, and his companions.

When the miraculous sign of the Quran was revealed abolishing adoption, people like Zayd and Salim had to change their names. Zayd who was known as Zayd ibn Muhammad had to be called after his own natural father. 

Henceforth he was known as Zayd ibn Harithah. Salim however did not know the name of his father. Indeed he did not know who his father was. However he remained under the protection of Abu Hudhayfah and so came to be known as Salim Mawla Abi Hudhayfah.

In abolishing the practice of adoption, Islam wanted to emphasize the bonds and responsibilities of natural kinship. However, no relationship was greater or stronger than the bond of Islam and the ties of faith which was the basis of brotherhood. 

The early Muslims understood this very well. There was nobody dearer to anyone of them after Allah and His Messenger than their brethren in faith. We have seen how the Ansar of Madinah welcomed and accepted the Muhajirin from Makkah and shared with them their homes and their wealth and their hearts. 

This same spirit of brotherhood we see in the relationship between the Quraysh aristocrat, Abu Hudhayfah, and the despised and lowly slave, Salim. They remained to the very end of their lives something more than brothers; they died together, one body beside the other one soul with the other. 

Such was the unique greatness of Islam. Ethnic background and social standing had no worth in the sight of Allah. Only faith and taqwa mattered as the miraculous signs of the Quran and the sayings of the Prophet emphasized over and over again:

"The most honorable of you in the sight of Allah, is the most Allah-fearing of you," says the Quran.

"No Arab has an advantage over a non-Arab except in taqwa (piety)," taught the noble Prophet who also said: "The son of a white woman has no advantage over the son of a black woman except in taqwa."

In the new and just society rounded by Islam, Abu Hudhayfah found honor for himself in protecting the one who was a slave. In this new and rightly-guided society rounded by Islam, which destroyed unjust class divisions and false social distinctions Salim found himself, through his honesty, his faith and his willingness to sacrifice, in the front line of the believers. 

He was the "imam" of the Muhajirin from Makkah to Madinah, leading them in Salat in the masjid at Quba which was built by the blessed hands of the Prophet himself. 

He became a competent authority in the Book of Allah so much so that the Prophet recommended that the Muslims learn the Quran from him. Salim was even further blessed and enjoyed a high estimation in the eyes of the Prophet, peace be on him, who said of him.

"Praise be to Allah Who has made among my Ummah such as you."

Even his fellow Muslim brothers used to call him "Salim min as-Salihin - Salim one of the righteous". The story of Salim is like the story of Bilal and that of tens of other slaves and poor persons whom Islam raised from slavery and degradation and 'made them, in the society of guidance and justice - imams, leaders and military commanders.

Salim's personality was shaped by Islamic virtues. One of these was his outspokenness when he felt it was his duty to speak out especially when a wrong was committed.

A well-known incident to illustrate this occurred after the liberation of Makkah. The Prophet sent some of his companions to the villages and tribes around the city. 

He specified that they were being sent as du'at to invite people to Islam and not as fighters. Khalid ibn al-Walid was one of those sent out. During the mission however, to settle an old score from the days of Jahiliyyah, he fought with and killed a man even though the man testified that he was now a Muslim.

Accompanying Khalid on this mission was Salim and others. As soon as Salim saw what Khalid had done he went up to him and reprimanded him listing the mistakes he had committed. 

Khalid, the great leader and military commander both during the days of Jahiliyyah and now in Islam, was silent for once. Khalid then tried to defend himself with increasing fervor. But Salim stood his ground and stuck to his view that Khalid had committed a grave error. 

Salim did not look upon Khalid then as an abject slave would look upon a powerful Makkan nobleman. Not at all. Islam had placed them on an equal footing. 

It was justice and truth that had to be defended. He did not look upon him as a leader whose mistakes were to be covered up or justified but rather as an equal partner in carrying out a responsibility and an obligation. 

Neither did he come out in opposition to Khalid out of prejudice or passion but out of sincere advice and mutual self-criticism which Islam has hallowed. Such mutual sincerity was repeatedly emphasized by the Prophet himself when he said:

"Ad-dinu an-Nasihah. Ad-din u an-Nasihah. Ad-din u an-Nasihah." "Religion is sincere advice. Religion is sincere advice. Religion is sincere advice."

When the Prophet heard what Khalid had done, he was deeply grieved and made long and fervent supplication to his Nurturing Master. "O Master," he said, "I am innocent before you of what Khalid has done." And he asked: "Did anyone reprimand him?"

The Prophet's anger subsided somewhat when he was told: "Yes, Salim reprimanded him and opposed him." Salim lived close to the Prophet and the believers. 

He was never slow or reluctant in his worship nor did he miss any campaign. In particular, the strong brotherly relationship which existed between him and Abu Hudhayfah grew with the passing days.

The Prophet, may Allah bless him and grant him peace, passed away to his Master. Abu Bakr assumed responsibility for the affairs of Muslims and immediately had to face the conspiracies of the apostates which resulted in the terrible battle of Yamamah.

Among the Muslim forces which made their way to the central heartlands of Arabia was Salim and his "brother", Abu Hudhayfah. At the beginning of the battle, the Muslim forces suffered major reverses. 

The Muslims fought as individuals and so the strength that comes from solidarity was initially absent. But Khalid ibn al-Walid regrouped the Muslim forces anew and managed to achieve an amazing coordination.

Abu Hudhayfah and Salim embraced each other and made a vow to seek martyrdom in the path of the religion of Truth and thus attain felicity in the hereafter. 

Yamamah was their tryst with destiny. To spur on the Muslims Abu Hudhayfah shouted: "Yaa ahl al-Quran - O people of the Quran! Adorn the Quran with your deeds," as his sword flashed through the army of Musaylamah the imposter like a whirlwind. Salim in his turn shouted:

"What a wretched bearer of the Quran am I, if the Muslims are attacked from my direction. Far be it from you, O Salim!”. With renewed courage he plunged into the battle. 

When the standard-bearer of the Muhajirin, Zayd ibn al-Khattab, fell. Salim bore aloft the flag and continued fighting. His right hand was then severed and he held the standard aloft with his left hand while reciting aloud the miraculous sign of the glorious Quran:

"How many a Prophet fought in Allah's way and with him (fought) large bands of godly men! But they never lost heart if they met with disaster in Allah's way, nor did they weaken (in will) nor give in. And Allah loves those who are firm and steadfast." 

What an inspiring miraculous sign for such an occasion! And what a fitting epitaph for someone who had dedicated his life for the sake of Islam! A wave of apostates then overwhelmed Salim and he fell. 

Some life remained with him until the battle came to an end with the death of Musaylamah. When the Muslims went about searching for their victims and their martyrs, they found Salim in the last throes of death. 

As his life-blood ebbed away he asked them: "What has happened to Abu Hudhayfah?" "He has been martyred," came the reply. "Then put me to lie next to him," said Salim.

"He is close to you, Salim. He was martyred in this same place." Salim smiled a last faint smile and spoke no more. Both men had realized what they had hoped for. 

Together they entered Islam. Together they lived. And together they were martyred. Salim, that great believer passed away to his Master. Of him, the great Umar ibn al-Khattab spoke as he lay dying: "If Salim were alive, I would have appointed him my successor."

[missjosie27]

Year 1 Part 4- Gobstone Gauntlet

As it turned out, David was not the only one to run afoul of Merula Snyde during the first few weeks at Hogwarts. To be sure, he was the target most of the time, but it seemed that her bullying reached all across the four houses in one form or another.

Some were just rumblings. He had heard a few Ravenclaws complaining about her attempts to one up them in Defense Against the Arts (not that it mattered since apparently the professor barely did anything to begin with), but other incidents were plain as day to see. A Hufflepuff girl came in crying one day in Herbology because Merula had threatened to hex her if she didn’t get on her knees and apologize for accidentally bumping into her on the stairwell. And to no one’s surprise, she tended to prey on the unsuspecting muggleborns the most.

“You’re the only one who’s managed to stand toe to toe with her so far,” Ben Copper said to him at lunch one day. “Everyone else is just plain miserable.”

“Yeah, well don’t forget I didn’t exactly come out of potions unscathed,” David told him taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Seems she’s intent on hurting anyone who won’t acknowledge her as the greatest thing since Merlin himself.”

“She’s been harassing me since the day we were on the train,” Ben said, pushing away his pumpkin juice. “Every where I go, she’s there calling me ‘mudblood’ and worse.”

That brought several sharp glares from those within earshot. Even Jae had a shocked look on his face.

“Are you kidding?” Rowan said, nearly spitting out his drink. “That’s one of the worst things you can say to a muggle born wizard!”

“No kidding,” Charlie Weasley agreed. “One of the worst things you can say period. Ben, why didn’t you tell us she was doing this?”

“I didn’t think anyone cared to be honest,” he replied with a miserable shrug. “The past week or so I’ve been the one following her, so she can’t sneak up on me. At least I’d have the chance to run away.”

David felt a tremendous amount of sympathy for his deeply insecure friend. But just one week of experience with Merula had taught him that avoiding someone like her would only prolong the problem, not solve it.

“Mate, you gotta stick up for yourself. She’ll back down if stops thinking you’re a soft target.”

“You’re not a soft target and she goes after you all the time,” he pointed out.

“I’m a special case,” Dave joked. “But in all seriousness, she won’t go away unless you show her you can’t be pushed around.

“Exactly,” Rowan agreed. “Plus, we’re Gryffindors. It’s what we’re known for. Logically speaking, we should be the ones standing up to her.”

“I appreciate the help,” Ben said grabbing his bag. “But you were all meant to be in this house. There’s nothing about me that’s remotely brave. I think I’ll just go hide until flying class.”

They all watched as he left the Great Hall, some of the Slytherins jeering as he walked by. Some of the other Gryffindors shook their heads at the display, but David and company knew better. Their only wish was to give some semblance of confidence to their friend.

“Man, I’ve never seen someone so scared of…well everything,” Jae observed.

“You would be too if you came from a muggle family and someone started treating you like rubbish because you weren’t ‘pureblood’,” David countered. “Even so, I do have to admit he’s pretty shaky at the moment. There has to be something we can do.”

“Maybe flying will cheer him up,” Charlie offered. “We have our first lesson today. Personally, I can’t wait to hop on a broom. I’ve been practicing all summer and I’m going to be trying out for the house squad once I’m a second year. Who knows, maybe Ben will take to it?”

“Statistically, it’s impossible to be afraid of everything,” said Rowan, using his usual book smarts to try and solve a problem.

“Might actually be true in his case,” Jae said, not looking up as he tinkered with some device that looked like a fanged frisbee. “Anyone want this by the way? Half price.”

David gave a quick glance over to the Slytherin table where Merula was currently bragging about something in her usual exaggerated manner. He wasn’t sure what was going to help bring Ben out of his shell, but he did know that it was going to be a hell of a lot harder with the Slytherin girl becoming a walking menace.

Perhaps he could attempt to remedy that.

“Hey Rowan, can I ask a favor mate?”

“Sure, Dave! What do you need? Notes on the Gargoyle Strike of 1911? Some information on the kind of wood on the brooms we’ll be using today?”

“Better than that. See if you can’t dig up something on Merula and her family history. Something tells me she’s got a lot more to hide than she lets on.”

Rowan gave a mischievous smile.

“I like the way you think. I’ll head straight to the library after flying class today.”

David nodded his thanks. He could handle Merula’s barbs, but he would be damned to see anyone suffer needlessly under her yoke. He had written to his parents about the situation, and they had both encouraged him to keep his head down, stick to his studies and ignore her.

That’s their solution to everything, he thought, bitterness creeping into his mind.

They could be idle all they wanted. As for himself, David Grant had other ideas.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Welcome to your first flying lesson, everyone. My name is Madam Hooch.”

Indeed, the name seemed to suit her personality and her profession. Her hair was spiky and tufted to go along with a pair of piercing, yellow eyes.

“For those of you who have some experience with a broom, I assure you, this is not the class to show off or attempt any foolish maneuvers. For those who haven’t, I can also assure you there is nothing to fear. We are only lifting our brooms and hovering in the air.”

“That’s still something to fear,” David heard Ben mutter behind him.

It was a bright, sunny day, reasonably warm with a gentle breeze. Perfect conditions for flying. David himself had never actually ridden a broom before due to his parents’ strictness of no magic outside of the home. He was actually looking forward to it.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Madam Hooch said, ushering them forward. “Stand on the left side of your brooms and begin.”

David attempted to cheer Ben up as they walked over to the their cleansweeps.

“Come on, Ben, it isn’t so bad.”

“You come from a wizard family,” he said, quite hesitant to even go near the broom. “I’m from a muggle one, the idea of riding in the air on a broom is terrifying.”

David put his arm around Ben’s shoulder in a display of solidarity.

“You can do this, I know you can. I may come from a wizard family, but I’ve never ridden a broom either. We’re both starting fresh, okay?”

Swallowing, the nervous Gryffindor nodded and reluctantly joined the rest of the class.

“Now, in order to raise your broom,” Madam Hooch continued. “Hold out your hand and say ‘up’. You’ll want to be firm in your tone, or else it won’t respond.”

The class complied, some achieving mastery right away, others barely getting any kind of movement. David’s jumped a number of times, but it did not fully raise into the air. It was also quite difficult to concentrate over the sound of Merula’s incessant bragging.

“I really wish they had let me bring my broom from home instead of this rubbish. No wonder I can’t get it off the ground. Otherwise, I’d be flying circles around everyone just about now.”

“The reason you can’t get it off the ground, Snyde, is because you won’t shut up.”

The Ravenclaw section of the class began snickering.

“Zip it, Egwu! Just because you got it on your first try. I don’t see any of these other losers doing so great. Copper over there is hopeless.”

David looked over to Ben, who indeed was struggling to get any kind of response at all, his lack of desire to get off the ground quite clear in his voice. Merula’s constant insults weren’t helping. That brought an idea to his head.

“Ben,” he said nudging him. “Watch this. Hey Merula!”

“UP! What?!- OW!”

The rest of the class, even some of the Slytherins began howling with laughter as the lapse in attention had caused the broom to smack her straight in the nose.

“You’ll pay for that, Grant!” she said through her hands covering her face.

Ben was laughing too and in a rare moment of relative calm, David knew it was the perfect opportunity.

“Now, Ben. We’ll say it together.”

Nodding, they both spoke the command, causing their brooms to shoot straight into their hands.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Madam Hooch said, cutting off the laughter with her sharp tone though her eyes indicated a small degree of amusement herself. “Now the next step is quite simple. Swing your leg over the broom, raise yourself ever so slightly off the ground. Do not push off.”

The results, again, varied. Some students fell sideways as they tried to hover, others achieved success right away. Indeed, Charlie Weasley was having the time of his life, the spark alight in his amber eyes.

“Easy does it there, Ben,” David counseled as he swung his leg around. “Just lift up slightly. There you go.”

Both Gryffindors eased themselves no more than a couple feet and managed to stay there for a solid five seconds.

“Look, Dave! I’m actually doing it!”

“Indeed, you are,” Madam Hooch praised, a genuine smile on her face. “I have observed you both the whole time and I must say I am quite pleased. Mr. Grant, your conduct in helping one of your classmates has been exemplary. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Thank you, Madam Hooch,” he said, a bright smile on his face, as she went off to assist other students.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Ben admitted, a sheepish grin on his face.

“You just need to get used to it. If you want, we can get some books from Rowan about flying. Might help us both.”

They turned to see Rowan struggling rather heavily on his broom, unable to keep his balance and falling to the ground.

“Seems like he needs to read a little more himself,” Charlie joked as the three boys laughed.

“Anyway, thanks for helping me again,” Ben said Dave.

“No problem, mate. I’m telling you, before this year is over, you’re going to wish you didn’t have to go back.”

He nodded at Charlie, who reciprocated the gesture. They had managed to overcome one of Ben’s fears for the time being. With any luck, they could continue to do so.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hogwarts proved to be a learning experience for pure blood and muggle born wizard alike over the course of the first month. Even those that came from old wizarding families like Charlie had adjustments to make- he ran afoul of the Bloody Baron one day while walking back from the library in the evening.

All of this ensured that Ben was not feeling left out in his struggles adapting to life as a wizard in a world very unfamiliar and sometimes dangerous. His fear may have been much higher than that of an ordinary first year, but it wasn’t completely irrational.

To the delight of his fellow Gryffindors, Ben managed to discover upon a few things he had natural talent in. The first was charms. Though Dave had summoned the best wand lighting charm, other spells were not quite so simple, and Ben constantly managed to finish at or near the top of the group in terms of performance. Though flying remained an uneasy task for him, he also happened upon wizard’s chess and took a liking to it. By the end of the month, he was the best player in the entire first year. Indeed, the only real issue was the consistency of confidence. In private moments with no threat of judgement, Ben was just as casual and outgoing as anyone else. But it could be shattered quite easily if someone said the wrong thing or worse yet, Merula came into play.

The Slytherin girl was relentless. So much so, there were rumors even Professor Snape had to intervene to corral her behavior. Despite almost being maimed by Devil’s Snare, David had more or less learned to counter her constant jabs and bullying. Ben and many others had not. One thing was nearly universally agreed upon, however, at least among the non-Slytherin houses. Merula Snyde was the worst thing that had come to Hogwarts in a long time.

On top of that, the workload was increasing as they entered into the meat of the school year. Though only first years, it still involved plenty of essays and practical application. Rowan was practically the only one enjoying it and many of the older students warned them it would only get harder from here on out.

So, on one crisp October day, David and Rowan agreed to unwind a little and relax with a game of gobstones in the courtyard. David wasn’t exactly keen at first, he much preferred Quidditch, but with the first game between Gryffindor and Slytherin still a month away, there was nothing better to do.

“I’m glad you agreed to at least try it out, Dave,” Rowan said excitedly. “I even brought my own set from home. I lend you the spare.”

“Sure thing,” he shrugged. “I just can’t wait for the Quidditch season to start.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never played Gobstones before,” he said as they walked down the stairs and into the courtyard.

“There’s a reason for that,” David quipped sarcastically.

“Oh, I used to play it back home on the farm all the time.”

Rowan liked to bring up his parents’ tree farm, sometimes to the annoyance of those around him.

“Mostly because I wasn’t strong enough to help with the actual farming. But it’ll be fun to play with an actual person for once.”

David raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t get out much, did you?”

“No. But then again neither did you.”

“True,” he admitted. “But it didn’t used to be like that. Mum’s strict, but we used to go out and do things all the time- go to France, shopping in Diagon Alley, etc. That is until…”

He didn’t have to explain further as he trailed off. He wasn’t the chatty sort when it came to talking about his past but Rowan knew enough. Once Jacob had disappeared, it had put a massive strain on the Grant family.

“Say no more,” he said. “We’re just here to play some Gobstones. I’ll show you everything, okay?”

“Thanks, Rowan.”

The young Gryffindor, despite his bookishness, was deeply empathetic and eager to help those who needed it. David didn’t say it openly often enough but he did appreciate it and it was one of the reasons Rowan was quickly becoming one of his best friends.

“Any time, mate. I know the first month has been pretty mental with Merula, Snape, and all the rest. Which is why Gobstones is the perfect remedy. It’s kind of like those marbles muggles use, except when you lose a point you get sprayed in the face.”

“With what exactly?”

“No one knows but it smells terrible,” Rowan said enthusiastically as though it were the greatest honor in the world.

“Fantastic.”

Rowan laughed as they sat down in a lone spot in the courtyard and began setting up the game.

As it turned out, Gobstones wasn’t as bad as Dave originally thought it would be. It certainly had a reputation for being ‘uncool’ for a reason but proved to be rather entertaining. Rowan explained the rules and though it took him awhile to fully grasp the rules he understood the basic gist- basically you had to capture all your opponent’s gobstones and when you lost a point, the stone that was captured squired a substance that smelled strongly of old socks and bad eggs, in which case it was best to keep your distance to avoid any lingering smell on your clothes. After playing four consecutive games in which Rowan won easily, David decided to play a little trick.

“Hey Rowan, I just remembered. I think Professor McGonagall said we had to write two extra rolls of parchment for the latest essay.”

His eyes widened in surprise. And gave David the in he was looking for.

“Really?”

With a small flick of his wand, he switched the places of two of the stones, causing the substance to spray over Rowan.

“Ack! No fair, Dave!”

David began roaring with laughter, hardly being able to feign innocence.

“Sorry, Rowan. Couldn’t help it, you’ve been kicking my arse all day.”

“I do get competitive when it comes to Gobstones,” he admitted with a laugh. “I know most people don’t think it’s all that cool, but I always say it’s the thinking wizard’s Quidditch.”

The good times couldn’t last, however, as a familiar feminine sneer entered their ears.

“Well isn’t this precious?”

Rowan and David leapt to their feet in reaction to Merula’s arrival. No wands had been drawn but the tension had already increased tenfold.

“Gobstones?” she scowled, noticing the set in front of them. “You two losers really were made for each other.”

“Something you want, Merula?” David asked, in no mood to deal with the Slytherin girl right now. “Or can I get back to my life? Which looks amazing without you in it.”

“You think you’re so clever with your little jokes and sarcasm,” Merula said, her face taking on vicious leer. “But while you’ve been playing around with losers and mudbloods, I’ve been doing a little research on your brother.”

“Fascinating. Now are you going to leave us alone?”

“Never, Grant. I told you this was just the beginning. You’re a stain on this school just like your brother and I’ll never stop until you’re gone just like him.”

Rowan just looked confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Grant’s brother didn’t just get expelled for endangering the school and chasing some imaginary vaults. He immediately went missing and the next time he was seen, he was working for Voldemort.”

Rowan cringed at the name, but for the first time at Hogwarts, David could feel his temper rising to a dangerous level. His brother was not a comfortable topic to begin with, to insinuate he became a Death Eater was beyond the pale.

“My brother didn’t join You Know Who,” he said to her with a little more aggression in his tone. “I suggest you shut your mouth about things you know nothing about.”

“I say what I want,” she shot back. “No wonder half the school thinks you’re mad, they probably think you’re going to join him at some point too.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Rowan stepped in, knowing David was not going to hold his anger much longer. “I did a little research on your family, Merula. Apparently, your parents are currently locked up in Azkaban for supporting You Know Who during the war.”

“And you think I’m the one at risk?” David added. “You’re practically a Death Eater in training.”

Merula’s leer turned into an ugly frown. He knew he had gotten to her.

“You don’t know anything about me!”

“Please, I don’t need to know anything except for the fact that you’re a spoiled brat who got whatever she wanted in life. Except Mummy and Daddy aren’t here anymore, so you take that anger out on everyone else.”

Merula draw her wand and pointed it directly at David’s chest.

“You take that back,” she said, her voice quivering in anger. “You take that back, or we duel right now, and I promise you’ll be sorry.”

“You aren’t worth the dirt underneath my shoes,” David mocked. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do.”

He attempted to brush past her, but evidently, the Slytherin girl had far more moxy than he originally gave her credit for as he felt himself knocked back by a tremendous force and into the fountain, soaking him from head to toe.

“Knockback jinx,” Merula spoke quietly, but with her smirk returning. “Learn how to duel before you say things you can’t back up.”

Her triumph assured, she walked away without so much of a thought towards challenging Rowan, who immediately went over to assist his friend.

“Are you alright?”

“Been better,” David grunted as he took Rowan’s hand to lift himself back on his feet. “I suppose I should blame myself for being naïve. Every time I think she can’t get any worse, I’m proven wrong.”

He sighed, wishing the drying charm was part of the first year curriculum.

“Come on, let’s go to the common room and get you into some better clothes,” Rowan indicated back up the stairwell.

“I’m more concerned about this getting around,” David remarked as they began their trek back. Indeed, he hoped that whatever resulted of this, it wouldn’t result in anything other than a private humiliation.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That hope also turned out to be naïve. Within the next couple days, the news spread like wildfire that Merula had bested him in a duel and though certain details had been exaggerated (no, his head had not been turned into a pumpkin), it caused him to endure a series of jeers and taunts in the hallways, mostly from Slytherins who looked for any excuse to take a Gryffindor down a peg.

David did his best to ignore such pettiness, but the problem was far outgrowing his ability to handle. Merula wouldn’t relent her ceaseless bullying until someone actually stopped her, but no one had the courage or ability seemingly to do so.

It was only when his prefect intervened one evening in the common room that the wheels of change began to be set in motion.

“Grant.”

David, who currently was hanging out in one of the armchairs with Rowan and Ben, trading chocolate frogs (a personal favorite of his), didn’t even bother to glance back to see who it was.

“I do have a first name, you know.”

This was followed by a heavy sigh from Angelica.

“David, please turn around and look at me.”

The resigned calm in her tone did finally cause him to acquiesce to her request (the hilarity of Rowan losing his frog notwithstanding).

“I heard about what happened with Merula.”

“You and everyone else. Luckily for you, no teachers were there so I didn’t lose any house points.”

“This isn’t about house points,” she said pointedly. “It’s far more important.”

“More important than house points?!” he mocked in fake outrage.

“Damn it, Grant! Will you cut the jokes for one second and listen?! I’m trying to help you.”

This got Ben and Rowan’s attention as well. Angelica was usually lecturing them not assisting.

“Help me?”

“I wouldn’t be doing my job as a prefect if I didn’t help you defend yourself. This Snyde girl is a rotten little beast and I want to ensure you don’t lose to her again.”

David was now completely bewildered.

“You make it sound like I’m going to duel her again.”

“Aye, you are. People like her go looking for trouble and it will inevitably find you again. Except this time, she’ll be the one looking foolish.”

“And what were you proposing we do?” David asked, his undivided attention completely centered now. “Are you going to train me?”

“Technically, I can’t. Being a prefect, McGonagall would have my head if she found out I trained you to duel another student. But I know and have talked to someone who can.”

The last sentence took on a mischievous inflection. Oh, this was serious alright. If Angelica, ever a stickler for being by the book, was in on this he had to do something.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he replied in the affirmative.

“He’s on the training grounds,” she replied, giving him a scrap of parchment. “This is a pass giving you permission to be out after hours. He’s waiting for you there now.”

Taking the pass, David looked back at Rowan and Ben, who despite looking anxious also appeared excited.

“You have to do it, Dave,” Rowan encouraged.

Ben agreed whole heartedly.

“You’re the only one who’s been capable of standing up to her so far.”

“Then the training grounds are where I’ll go.”

But before he could leave, Angelica had some parting words for the first year under her charge.

“In a weeks’ time I want to hear about how you put that vicious little brute in her place.”

The understanding couldn’t have been clearer. David nodded, and as he walked out of the common room to head to the training grounds, he could feel a newfound respect increase for his prefect.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When he finally arrived on the grounds, it was initially hard to make out just who it was that had volunteered to train him due to the setting of the sun, it’s light ever decreasing this time of year. But it didn’t take more than a few seconds to figure out as a tall red headed figure came into view.

“Bill?”

“Nice to see you again too, Dave,” the third year said with a laugh. “I’m sure Angelica told you the reason why I’m here.”

“To help me against Merula,” David answered affirmatively. “But are you sure? Angelica’s a prefect so she can’t get involved, but you could still get in trouble too.”

“As you’re probably aware, I know what happened between you and that Slytherin girl. After I heard the story, I took it upon myself to approach Angelica about it and of course, she agreed. I’m not an expert when it comes to dueling, but at the least I can show you a few spells that you can use to protect yourself.”

David knew that Bill was being modest. Though only a third year, he was already known for his top marks and natural talent in his spellwork. It was rumored he could go head on with any of the older students in a duel.

“That means a lot, Bill. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said warmly. “Seeing you best the Snyde girl will be thanks enough. Though you may not know it, plenty of the upperclassmen are getting sick of her too. Above all, you need to know how to defend yourself properly, something this year’s defense teacher hasn’t addressed.”

David gave his thanks once more and without wasting any time, the two boys began.

The first fifteen minutes were dedicated to form and technique. The eldest Weasley demonstrated a proper stance and the best situations to attack, defend, and breach someone else’s defense. Once David got the hang of that, it was time to learn a few curses.

“So what in particular did you have in mind?” the first year asked, curious as to what Bill might have in store.

“There’s a number of spells I could teach you,” he said, thinking to himself. “But to save you any odd questions from the professors, we’ll start out with some basic ones. The three I had in mind are the disarming spell, the leg locker curse, and the trip jinx.”

David nodded and so they got to work.

The first one they attempted was the disarm spell or ‘Expelliarmus’ as was the Latin incantation. It was quite simple and not so difficult to master, as it required a simple flick of the wrist and good aim.

The trip jinx was also quite simple and only took a matter of five minutes to master.

The leg locker curse was trickier. It required a little more raw power than the average first year had and a higher amount of concentration. David’s first dozen attempts to cast it on a dummy fell flat, but eventually his efforts paid off as he cast it successfully about an hour into their session.

“That’s it! I think you got it for sure, Dave,” Bill praised. “We’ll need to keep working of course. But for now, this is a good foundation to build on. We’ll meet twice a day this week, once in the library and once on the training grounds to fully prepare.”

David felt better than he had in days. Everything the populace had said about Bill was true, not only was he a talented wizard, but he was also a fantastic teacher and knew the ins and outs of when to push and when to withhold judgement.

“Thanks, Bill. Honestly, you could teach defense this year better than that other guy…I can’t even remember his name.”

“Me neither,” Bill laughed. “And thank you, I’m flattered. Like I said, we’ll continue this tomorrow. We should probably get back to the common room, that pass isn’t going to be good for much longer.”

Indeed, it was almost fully dark and no professor who caught them outside of curfew would be able to escape giving them detention. But as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, David could feel himself being filled with determination and the drive to put an end to Merula’s tyranny once and for all.

The rules be damned, he would see to it.