#but in this case ignorance is at least as dangerous as malice

[madtomedgar]

The thing that's scaring me right now is how many well meaning gentiles just genuinely have no idea when something is an antisemitic canard and so they are internalizing and parrotting ideas that can will and do get Jews killed everywhere because it's couched in pro Palestinian rhetoric and all they know about this is that settler colonialism is bad and they are trusting any leftist or or professed leftists who are actually alt-right types actively using this horror to recruit. And all they knew about antisemitism is like. The Holocaust happened and right wingers are often antisemitic and that anti-zionism isn't necessarily antisemitism. So you have people who honestly do not know better reblogging excerpts from fucking Protocols and thinking it's good information that explains and supports the Palestinian struggle because someone replaced the word "Jew" with "Zionist," and misatributed it. And I know it sounds wrong to say that you need to learn about what antisemitism looks like and how it works in order to effectively advocate for the one group of people in history who are actually being oppressed by Jews-as-Jews, but if you can understand why you need to learn about and recognize transphobia in order to be an effective feminist, you can understand that.

Rootless cosmopolitan tropes, dual loyalty tropes, blood libel, accusations that (((they))) control the media, banks, or governments of other countries, assertions that it's all rich white privileged landlords from nyc/jersey, accusations of making up atrocities or causing their own oppression or using misplaced sympathy to silence criticism for nefarious ends or always lying doesn't stop being antisemitic just because someone used the word Zionist instead of Jews. Go read "The Past Didn't Go Anywhere" so you can avoid becoming Jackson Hinkle's stooge on accident.

[alicerosejensen]

OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH

I JUST HAD A CUTE LITTLE SCENARIO IDEA. It is about vendetta! leon and young(20’s) reader series! What about reader sitting on the bathrooms counter/vanity while helping Leon shave? His hands are resting on readers tighs or around her waist as he watches her focused eyes. I THINK THAT WOULD BE ADORABLE PLS.

And i don’t think this counts as an ask, but if you’ll want to do something with this im not complainig hahah 👁👁

Warning: Fluff, mention of injuries, age difference (implied but not mentioned), Leon!Vendetta, Leon gets taken care of (this man needs a little love and devotion); talking about nothing.

I'm sorry, I'm too lazy. I write slowly and because of some eternally tired condition

Coming back to you after so many weeks of silence was wrong, or at least unfair. To tell the truth, Leon did not feel that he should have done it at all, the doctor recommended bed rest, but it was all the same. It was not the first time he had been thrown like a rag doll, although this time he felt like he was on the edge, dangerously balancing between life and death, when Aris's claws almost pierced his flesh. At least Leon thought he was going to die thinking about you- the only good thing in his life in recent years.

He wasn't even sure if you would let him in, but when he broke out of the dark tunnel, the whole flight he thought only about how nice it was to return to the person who, for some reason, cared about him. You weren't his wife, you weren't his work partner, you were just a girl. The girl he was afraid to fall in love with because he always thought that this love would hurt you. Although it seems that only one was injured, and it was Leon himself, who came up with stupid rules for himself to protect you.

And here he is, you look at him without any malice, although it would be worth it. Leon really doesn't think he has the right to show up like this without an invitation, but he does, looking into your eyes with a guilty look, hoping that you won't drive him away and let him lick his wounds while he lets you love him tenderly.

"Come in," you nod head, letting him into your tiny apartment, in which Leon felt better than at home.

Although it looked more like a lone wolf's lair. It was much more comfortable and even somehow warmer with you.

Taking a step, Leon feels not like a government dog, but an ordinary person who is taken by the hand and let into a small corner of paradise. Maybe it will last a day, two or a week, but he will be a little happy and loved.

"Should I heat up your dinner?" You ask casually, as if he wasn't ignoring you and running away to drown his problems in alcohol. "Leon?"

"No, I'm not hungry."

"Coffee?" Again you offer him, but he just shakes his head negatively as he sits down on the chair in front of you.

"No"

Maybe you think he came here to end all the little things that were between you, but no. He just needs you as a salvation, otherwise his head will drown in regret.

All Leon wants is for his fight not to be in vain, but every time someone else takes the place of the bad guy, and corporations continue to create viruses that turn people into bioweapons. He runs his hand over his face, feeling the annoying stubble under his palm that should have been shaved off, but having drowned in alcohol, he didn’t want to do anything.

“I just,” he looks at you with a hazy look but completely sober, “Can I stay here? With you?”

Who are you to refuse him? But be honest with yourself, you want him to stay here, especially since his beaten appearance really said that he was better off not being alone. Under the T-shirt, bruises and abrasions on the face and arms and what appears to be a dislocated shoulder are visible. In any case, wanted to believe that Leon didn’t break any bones.

"You know that my answer is yes"

Leon doesn't smile. Just eternally grateful that he won't have to sit in his dark, lonely apartment lying on his bed again after taking a strong painkiller.

He sleeps well with you, he doesn't have nightmares, and he's just comfortable here. You can turn on the TV, watch an old movie with you and lie quietly, knowing that he will not be called anywhere until he recovers. There was work left in New York for B.S.A.A and TerraSave, but not for him, besides, he didn't take a shower before coming to you, fortunately you had some of his things, including a spare toothbrush and a new disposable razor.

And that was the problem. The problem with his shoulder, which you kept looking at without stopping, as if he had grown a third arm.

“Working moments,” Leon muttered, feeling that he really wouldn’t refuse your dinner. “Can I ask you something else?"

“Yeah, sure.” You really never refused him.

Arias threw him against the wall, clearly sparing no effort, but thanks to the adrenaline, Leon didn’t feel much pain and was able to maneuver and attack this crazy bastard. The truth is that falling from a motorcycle does not benefit his body, which is why when everything calmed down, Leon realized that it was simply difficult for him to pick up the very razor that was now in your hands and do such a simple job as shaving.

“Just stay still, or better yet, sit down,” you said loudly, seeing that Leon didn’t like the touch on his neck when you tried to cover him with shaving foam.

It was already like instinct when they touched his neck. Leon immediately jerked to the side when he felt someone else's palm on his skin, as if the touch caused him pain. He never talked about how often he was grabbed by the throat, but from his reaction one could guess that this was a sensitive area that he did not like to trust to anyone but himself.

“I can’t shave you if you twitch like a little kid who doesn’t want to wash his face,” you joked, using your finger to spread the shaving foam you had on your hand onto the tip of his nose.

"Just...a reflex"

You thought about it, biting your lip, but Leon just exhaled, gathering his strength, knowing that you weren't going to kill him. He trusted you, so he calmly sat down on a small chair, putting his hands on your waist, trying to relax.

You saw how tense his muscles were, as if at any moment he was ready to make a jerk, his fingers squeezed the fabric of your tank top while you distributed foam over his face, trying not to overuse the product at the site of his abrasions that have not yet healed. When that was done, the razor in your hands gently touched the skin of his neck and gently shaved off excess hair from his face with smooth movements against the coarse hairs.

Carefully avoiding all the cuts, you managed not to hurt him. Step by step, you constantly rinsed the razor to remove all the hairs from it and walk it over the places where the stubble still remained. The most difficult thing for Leon was his neck - he felt too exposed and vulnerable, but when it was over and you moved to another zone, it seemed to you that he even exhaled.

In the end, getting carried away with the case, you didn't even notice how Leon was gradually able to relax and carefully watched your movements, finding you charming when you are so focused only on him. Maybe it's a little selfish, but for him you look so beautiful that he thinks about asking you to shave him again in a week when the stubble grows back, just to watch you take care of him again.

It took you a few minutes to catch his eye when you were completely done. The blue eyes stared at you with such attention that for a second you might have thought that something interesting was written on your face since he was looking at you like that. It's a little awkward and you look at him in response, stupidly blinking your eyes when you wipe his face with a towel, which makes a smile bloom on your lips and you look away.

"What's funny?"

To be honest, there really wasn't anything funny, it was just embarrassing for you.

"Did you leave me something like a mustache?" He joked and you burst out laughing

"Good idea! I'll do it next time."

Leon chuckled, because as a temporary joke, you could do that. That's just the accumulated fatigue that fell like a heavy boulder on him did not allow him to rejoice as much as you do.

"You're obviously going to amuse Chris," He sighed. You threw the razor into the sink and froze for a moment when you felt his head pressed against your stomach, relaxing in layers as you run your fingers through his hair "Thank you"

"No problem," you kissed the top of his head, helping him stand up, noticing how he hisses from the pain in his back when he straightens up.

"Fuck." Leon hisses in pain, catching his breath, realizing that maybe he should drink more painkillers and let a loved one take care of him. "I think I'm catching up with my age"

"Maybe. But I think you should rest and follow the doctor's recommendations at least until you stop needing painkillers."

"Until the next mission, you mean?"

You didn't say anything because you didn't know much about his work. After laying Leon on the bed, he finally exhaled with relief after looking at you with secret gratitude. Literally the only person who gives him warmth and comfort, and maybe he should come to you instead of washing down his bitterness in a bar. Thinking about it, Leon even thought that if he had stayed with you, he would not be suffering from his injuries now, however… What would have happened to Chris and Rebecca? But it's too late to regret what happened. He's alive and he's with you now. He lies in your bed listening to the usual chatter while the TV is on in the background and you settle down next to him bringing an extra blanket and pillow.

In the end, you just plopped down next to him, thoughtfully looking at the picture on the TV, pulling the blanket over yourself. Leon moved a little closer to you, hugging you around the waist, nuzzling your cheek, covering his eyes from fatigue. Of course you knew that he works for the government, but never what he does specifically. You saw the "DSO" marking on his gun, but you were afraid to ask him about it, although the fact that Leon has the right to carry and store weapons freely already hinted that he does not work in some average position and his injuries… one is worse than the other.

It is difficult to unravel the thoughts of this person, especially when he is completely immersed in himself. You know that he has some problems with alcohol and a couple of times you even quarreled about it, after which Leon always apologized by coming to you with flowers and other gifts. You turn off the light in the room, turning to him, meeting the tired gaze of blue eyes.

"Thank you. I rarely say this, but I'm grateful for everything you do for me."

"I know."

"Maybe you should find a better guy than me, but" he snuggled even closer and there was fear in his words, as if you could make him leave right now, "but I want to be with you. I can't lead a normal life, but being here with you feels like I'm becoming normal. Who he was before September 30, 1998"

"And what happened on September 30th?" you ask, putting your hand on his palm, smiling, and immediately see how noticeably even in the dark his face changes, becoming more gloomy.

"My first day working as a cop. I overslept and was late for my first day at work"

He could have said a lot and revealed his soul to you without fear if he hadn't been bound by the government. Raccoon City is classified information, and even no matter how much he values you, you shouldn't know anything about it. Fortunately, you do not pry into the truth, leaving his personal border untouched, and for this Leon is infinitely grateful. Maybe in a couple of weeks, when his injuries stop being so painful and his condition improves, he'll even laugh at what kind of mustache you made for him while shaving him again. He will really be happy and he will not need alcohol in this.

[otome-asylum]

Piofiore: Fated Memories Review

Preface: More detailed, character-specific posts are to follow (excluding the Finale and Henri routes), but here are my thoughts about the game over all.

Piofiore: Fated Memories is an Otomate game from Idea Factory, localized by Aksys Games for the Nintendo Switch.

Overall Score: 8/10. I really liked the game in general, romanticized mafia is super fun! I loved the mafia premise and the thrill of illicit activities, haha. The love interests and side characters were excellent, too. The voice acting is fabulous! Two of my favorite VAs voice love interests: Showtaro Morikubo as Gilbert Redford (also voices Souji Okita in Hakuoki and Impey Barbicane in Code Realize) and Ryohei Kimura as Nicola Francesca (voices Kageyuki Shiriashi from Collar x Malice). Even fell in love with the voice acting of a new guy--Nobuhiko Okamoto as Yang (also does a side character's voice in Collar x Malice).

What I was not expecting was the somewhat heavy emphasis on Christianity and religion. That makes it sound a little more intense than I mean, but considering I wasn't expecting it at all, well. It wasn't the way one might expect, but it was enough that it was completely out of left field when I was expecting, you know, mafia. Honestly, had I known it wasn't just straight mafia, I might not have bought the game, but it was easy enough for me to ignore most of the time. There were some very--I mean very--minor translation issues, mainly typos, but it was good overall.

Heroine: 6/10. To start with, my opinion of the Heroine varied depending on the route. She was my favorite in Gilbert's route, and I liked her enough in Yang's, but she was kind of pitiful in the other three (not including the Finale/Henri endings; admittedly, I didn't read the Finale). Frankly, I found myself annoyed at her most of the time. It's annoying when a character that's meant to represent the reader, as a general rule, does, says, and thinks things that I never would. She has decent points at least once in most of the routes, but especially in the beginning of each route, she's so naive it makes me want to throw up. There are in-game reasons for why this is, so I understand it, but I still dislike it.

By the end of each route, she comes to terms with the fact that she's fallen in love with an incredibly dangerous man and gets over the fact that she's inadvertently complicit in organized crime, but the road to this acceptance long and annoying. At the end of it all, she's still a bleeding heart. Not that I really thought that would change, but still. Progress.

I'm just bored to death of many otome MCs' main (and often only) strength being strength of will and/or character. Mental and emotional toughness are good, but could the MC also be useful and have more interesting qualities? Just once, I'd love to play a badass MC, who's a bit hardened, not a bleeding heart, and isn't shocked by the sight of blood... Yeesh...

Narrative: As it typical of these console games, the plot caries slightly from route to route, though there is an overarching plot. Without giving too much away, MC is Special™, and that comes out/is relevant in only 3/6 routes. All of the routes were well written, though I didn't find all of them that interesting. The overarching plot bored me to tears. I just wasn't into it. In a world of what I assumed was just your standard period mafia piece, there was a lot of weird mysticism and Christian mythology. There's not magic or anything like that, but there are sacred relics that can only be retrieved from their super secret locations with specific "ingredients," if you will. MC has one of those ingredients, and in a game where it really advertises the mafia (that's literal the entire pitch of the game, there's no mention of anything else on the game case), it feels very out of place.

I can tell they were trying to do something different with the mafia premise, and I commend the writers for that, but I think it fell a little flat. I found myself enjoying the routes where there was more of those organized crime attributes--smuggling, drug and arms dealing, counterfeiting, etc.--most, while the routes that heavily focused on MC's specialness were a slog to get through. Of course, this is my own personal opinion, so others may feel very differently. Despite that, I truly enjoyed the game and can't wait to play the sequel!

Love Interests: I adore these characters, period. They're all very unique and interesting, even if a few weren't my type. There are technically six love interests: Nicola Francesca, Dante Falzone, Yang, Gilbert Redford, Orlok, and Henri. Gilbert is locked until you completed Nicola, Yang, Dante, and Orlok's routes, and the Finale/Henri is locked until you complete Gil's. You don't get a feel for who Henri is at all until you play the Finale route, so I personally didn't care for him. I had no vested interest in him, so full disclosure, I mostly skipped his route...

The other characters were wonderfully varied, so I think there's a personality type to suit nearly everyone. I can honestly say that, although not all of them are for me, I can pick out a quality I like in all of them. Dante is the kuudere of the guys; Gilbert is gallant and chivalrous; Yang is selfish and craves violence (in the best way, though); Nicola is a flirt; and Orlok is the quiet, shy one. Henri is mysterious, though not in an interesting way for me, personally.

Game Mechanics: The "Status" page is difficult to understand, especially when you first start playing and have no idea what you're looking at. I had to look up how to interpret the status of the character. The more colorful the flower on the status page is, the higher the affection, and the clearer the page (in this case, how much blood spatter is visible) is related to the tolerance level. So, full-color flower and no blood spatters are very good.

I also don't love the Meanwhile side stories. While you're plaything through every story, periodically you'll get a pop-up that is sometimes automatic, sometimes optional, that takes you to a different perspective--something that's going on at the same time as the main story. I like the idea in theory, but it sometimes felt like they came at inopportune times and broke the story flow.

Music & Art Style: The music is jaunty and fun, very 1920s jazz, screams mafia, too. If that makes sense. If you decide to play it, you'll see what I mean. The art style is beautiful! It looks very similar to, if not outright the same as, Hakuoki: Tales of the Shinsengumi/Kyoto Winds/Edo Blossoms. Since that's the game that started my love affair with these types of games, I love that it looks so similar. The CGs are gorgeous and worth collecting all of them, so 100-percenting the game is worth it. Some of them get pretty hot, too, like aaahhhhh. So 10/10 on the art!

[writingpaperghost]

It's Plotting

Hebikura had hoped that he would be able to avoid furry menaces here, but that turns out not to be the case.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600734

Today had been normal, at least as normal of a day as STORAGE ever had. There had, thankfully, been no monsters today - at least not yet. So Hebikura sat at his desk, doing his work as he did, without much concern.

“Aww... Isn’t he cute?” At least until he heard Yuka squealing about something. He sighed, knowing her, it was probably something that should very much not be in STORAGE’s base. He hears her walk over, so he looks up, ready to say something to her.

Instead of Yuka, he was greeted with a face full of fur and it was vibrating. “Don’t you agree, Captain?” Correction, it was purring.

There was a cat in his face.

To his credit, Hebikura only jerked back slightly. Really, though, wouldn’t you too if there was suddenly a noodle of fluff in your face. Especially, when it was a cat. A wretched, hell spawned, diabolical -

“Uh... Captain?” This time, it was Haruki who spoke, snapping Hebikura back from his thoughts. Right, right, STORAGE. He shouldn’t get distracted like that, not with that beast around. Especially not with it so close to him.

“Yuka,” Hebikura began, already praising himself for his calm sounding tone, “Why do you have a cat?” Okay, so a little bit of irritation snuck in that second part, but he was still doing pretty good.

“I found him,” Yuka responded, shifting her hold on the furry beast so that it was now cradled in her arms. “He’s so adorable!” She began to pet it and the monster had the audacity to start purring.

Hebikura held in a groan. He wanted nothing more than to get that thing as far away from him as possible. “Yuka, you can’t have a cat in the base.”

Yuka pouted in response, though Hebikura chose to ignore her, returning to his work. Hopefully, that would encourage her to get that hell spawn out of here, or at the very least out of his face.

“Mreow?”

It was still in his face.

“Yuka,” He began again, this time much more irritation, “Please take the cat out of here.”

“Aww... Alright.” He honestly expected her to put up more of a fight, not that he was complaining.

Unfortunately, that was not the end of his torment. Yoko peered over at him, “What’s that face about, Captain?” She questioned, “Don’t you like cats?”

Deep breaths, Hebikura, deep breaths. With what he hoped appeared as mostly calm, or at least pleasant, smile, he responded, “Cats are...” How should he word it. The usual way he would, a rather strong worded way, might be a bit much for his team. “Well cats and I do not get along.”

“Mrow?” As though to laugh in his face, the cat was back, somehow. It stood on his desk, looking up at him with barely concealed malice. In response to the sudden appearance of the furry monster, Hebikura couldn’t help but launch himself and his chair backwards.

“Oh! Captain, sorry!” Yuka yelped, rushing over, “He got out of my arms!”

Eye twitching, Hebikura glared at the monster before him. Though it looked unassuming, he knew of all the dangers it could pose. Yuka, on the other hand, was clearly fooled by it’s “cute” façade. Perhaps even Yoko and Haruki, too, were fooled by the way it curled up and made it’s dreadful sounds. This was a foe that he would have to face alone, clearly, but he had plenty of experience with that. The hellspawn on his desk brought a paw up to it’s mouth, licking at the fur.

It began to vibrate - “purr” - clearly preparing for an attack. Hebikura stood, hands on his desk, ready to stop the monster from even trying to attack. His mind was speeding through the possible ways to halt the monster when-

“Hebi?” Wonderful, more to worry about. Bako came in, most likely looking to talk to Hebikura about something. Bako stopped, raising an eyebrow and looking at him. “Hebi, why are you glaring daggers at a cat?” The aforementioned hellbeast hops off Hebikura’s desk, landing on the ground with little fanfare.

Hebikura pursed his lips, “It’s a monstrous beast,” He said, “It’s plotting.”

Yuka looks at him, confused, while off to the side he can see Haruki look at him concerned. Bako sighed, looking at the cat - now on the floor - and then at Hebikura, “Hebi, we’ve talked about this,” He sounded concerned, though it didn’t seem to be for the cat on the ground. As far as Hebikura was concerned, that worry should be pointed towards what the cat might do. Bako continued, “Cats are not monsters. The worst they will do is scratch you and even then, they’ll only do it if they’re playing or feel threatened.”

With a quick glare at the cat, Hebikura looked over at Bako and responded, “It should feel threatened,” The cat jumped onto Yoko’s lap, curling into a ball. “I’m on to it’s plans, Bako.”

Leaning over to Bako, in a worried voice, Yuka whispered, “Is Captain okay?”

Bako responds in a slightly louder voice, most likely with the hope that Haruki and Yoko could hear, “Hebi doesn’t really... like cats, if you can’t tell.”

Yoko glanced over at Hebikura, “That’s... one way to put it.”

The cat got up, stretched, and hopped back over towards Hebikura. It hissed at him, prompting him to glare even harder, if that were even possible. They sort of stayed like that, for a bit, before Yuka finally walked over to the cat. In an awkward manner, she picked up the cat, ignoring its attempts to claw at Hebikura.

“I’ll just be... taking him out, now,” She said slowly, though she practically sprinted out of the room with the cat in her arms. Hebikura sat back down at his desk, letting out a breath that no one was aware he was holding.

“Well,” Haruki said, “I guess since that’s over...”

Bako sighed, “Alright Hebi, you’ve had your fun.”

“I was making sure that hellspawn didn’t try anything.”

[pokemon-studies09]

Im a dark type trainer and oh boy I have gotten more rude comments about my pokemon than I can count, especially from the family that lives down the block from my house. They are super rich, entitled a-holes that just LOVE to call me and my entire team (umbreon, houndoom, pangoro, honchkrow, weavile, and shiftry) evil. Not to mention that they have a sylveon that I can only describe as pure malice shaped like a pokemon. The neighbors constantly throw a fit every time my pokemon even go outside but when their sylveon straight up tries to bite the arm off a nearby toddler its perfectly fine because sylveon is a fairy type therefore its incapable of doing anything wrong! Plus my evil dark types probably provoked the sylveon so thats why it felt compelled to give a toddler a trip to the ER! (Yes the neighbors blamed MY POKEMON for their menace of a sylveon's behavior)

I just cannot understand why my pokemon are hated so much simply for their types. I raised all but two of them from eggs (the exceptions being shifty and honchkrow but those are stories for another day) I watched all six of them grow and they are some of the sweetest pokemon I have ever met! Its just...frustrating. On the bright side I plan on moving out of this neighborhood next year so I wont have to deal with this much longer. Sorry for the rang but it just irks me that my pokemon are despised by the neighbors simply for existing while their sylveon can terrorize the entire neighborhood no problem.

I’m so sorry you have to deal with that, anon. The whole “Fairy-types are harmless” is just as frustrating as the “Dark-types are evil” stereotype. The amount of people that get bitten or attacked by a Fairy-type because they assumed it was friendly is ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that when a Fairy-type behaves aggressively it’s often brushed off. If a Dark-type so much as approaches someone that Pokémon is treated as a threat. Additionally, some trainers with Fairy-type Pokémon believe that, since their Pokémon is “naturally friendly”, they don’t have to put as much effort into training or socializing it. This obviously isn’t the case, and this kind of thinking results in a potentially dangerous Pokémon.

I’m at least glad to hear you won’t have to put up with your neighbors for too much longer. Hopefully you won’t have to deal with the same kind of ignorance wherever you move to.

[yayteaberry]

*SFW* Babysitting (Bakugou)

Rarely did he ever take a Saturday off from either training or studying, he was determined to stay better than everyone else. But, it had been raining since yesterday and he felt like he deserved a break anyways. From morning to afternoon, he enjoyed doing absolutely nothing, scrolling his social media and avoiding liking any of his friends posts on principle.

Shitty hair still won’t shut up about the selfie he liked so now nobody gets any.

His planned day of nothing is interrupted by a knock at his door, and he’s been pacified by memes to a degree where he doesn’t react violently to the intrusion.

Instead he shoves his phone into his pocket as gets up and opens the door, plain faced until he sees it’s you and that you’re holding something. Well, someone.

“Hey!”, you greet with an unusual level of enthusiasm, “I need you to do a favor for me.”

“A favor?”, he asks while he takes in the fact that you’re holding a baby, dressed in a striped onesie.

“Yeah, I’m kinda busy with stuff and I need someone to keep an eye on this little cutie for a bit!” To emphasize the importance or maybe sway him, you turn the baby around so he can see the chubby face.

“... If you’re asking me to babysit it, then no.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, rolling your eyes. “Well don’t call her by ‘it’, and I really need you to do this for me!”

He puts a hand on the door to signal that he’s about to close it, “Nah. Ask shitty hair or Deku, I think they’d love to drool over your kid.” “It’s my aunts baby!”, you say as you put your foot over the threshold, jostling the baby somewhat, which excitedly babbles as it meets his eyes, “They’re busy too, I tried asking! Believe me, you weren’t my first choice.”

“What do you mean by that?” He speaks with annoyance, opening the door fully as his competitive nature rises.

Internally you give a sigh of relief, externally you place the baby on your hip. “Bakugou, I think we both know that you’re awful with children. But you’re my last option and I have nowhere else to turn.”

“I should’ve been your first choice! I’m a fuckin’ wiz at keeping brats well behaved! Gimme!”

“Ah!”, you step out of range of his attempted grab and put out your pointer finger, “Don’t yell at the baby, don’t be aggressive with the baby, and most of all, don’t yell at the baby.”

In spite of your words you know full well he’ll do nothing of the sort, just wanting to give the appearance so he’ll be on his best behavior. He doesn’t have to know he was actually the only one you wanted to watch her.

After all his surface level bullying you can tell he’s soft on the inside, knowing he’s the least likely to give into a baby's whims while also being gentle enough to avoid making her cry.

“Yeah yeah.”, he grumbles, taking her from you when you extend her towards him, “When are you gonna collect the brat?”

You give a 50/50 gesture, shrugging, “Ah an half hour to two hours, but I’ll be back before three hours for sure! She’s been fed and changed recently but just in case,” A bag is revealed when you pull it from behind your back, taking it off by the strap and setting it inside.

“Diapers and toys, if she’s hungry there’s something for her in there too. Just, be careful about that, she’s sorta young for it.”

He nods at your words, watching her grapple at his shirt, having not once taken his eyes off her.

“Thank you!”, you chirp and give him a kiss on the cheek, knowing that he can’t do anything about it while holding her. That makes him glance up at you with some minor malice, which is reduced severely by the dusting of pink across his nose.

With that you take your leave, confident he’ll do fine.

He shuts the door and sits at the edge of his bed, cradling her in his arms. After a moment he takes a look over to the bag you left, thinking it’d probably be best to fish something out of there for her to do.

While he wasn’t experienced in caring for a baby in any capacity that felt like common sense. Plus, it’d allow him to continue wasting time on his phone.

“You,” he gently places her on the middle of the bed as he stands, “are not taking my Saturday from me with your tiny incapable hands.”

With one hand he grabs the bag off the floor and sets it on the bed beside her, opening it and digging through its contents. You were right, the thing is loaded with diapers and many different plastic objects.

Keys, babies love keys.

That toy seems the best choice, taking that and a blanket out before putting the bag on the floor nearby, holding the baby like a barrel under his arm while he flattens the blanket, then placing her on her belly.

He dangles the keys in front of her, watching as her eyes widen as she takes a horribly aimed swipe towards them. With a laugh tinged snort he lets her have them, sitting with his back against the bed and taking his phone out, resuming his leisure hobby.

A minute passes before he peeks over at her to make sure she’s still there, idly chewing on an orange key. It reminds him of something a puppy would do, up until she shoves it in way too far.

He drops his phone and yanks the keys away with concern she’ll vomit, not expecting her to look so upset over it. Briefly she contentedly waits for them to be returned, but when it becomes apparent they aren’t, she scowls.

“No,” he preemptively says, putting the keys down at his other side to keep them away, “you did something fucking stupid, so now they’re off limits. Don’t get all upset over it.”

She huffs and slams a hand down a few times, making a ‘gah’ with very demanding intent.

“I said no. Let me find something else then, calm down.”, he says as he reaches over to grab something random out of the bag, finding a plush red dinosaur. “See? Fun. Chew on this.”

He sets it down in front of her, and she immediately pushes it over, repeating herself. If nothing he gives her credit for having a strange amount of object permanence.

“I. Said. No. The fuck do you want me to do? You’re the one who can’t handle having the damn thing!” With a curt ‘no’ as a final statement, he leans over her to shove the keys back into the bag.

This turns out to be a huge mistake.

In a universally understood way, her face screws up as she starts taking in heavy breaths, which makes his eyebrows raise.

“Don’t. No crying.” his tone is as assertive as he can get it, shaking his head as if to cement it. Her tiny face turns red, sniffling once before fat tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

With no idea what to do in this situation, he starts rummaging through the bag for a solution, diapers spilling out as he digs for a similar toy if there even is one. He cringes as she really starts crying, caving and getting the keys back out, giving them to her. “See? See??”

She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, bawling in the way only babies do, arms giving out as she lays down.

His instincts on consoling anyone are terrible and usually not to be followed but he acts without thinking, picking her up and setting her in his lap, bouncing his leg as he pets her back, softly shushing her, ignoring the part of him that does in fact wish to yell at the baby.

Her tiny body trembles, pawing at his shirt as she rubs her tear stained face into it. Continuing to follow his instincts he lifts her up, both arms cradling her as her head rests against his shoulder. She does eventually calm, relaxing as quiet hiccuping replaces her sobs, breathing regulating.

She's effectively soothed, he on the other hand is completely shaken up.

Jesus, why did that scare him so much? He’d heard babies cry before and always was irritated by it, but this time there was something so different about it. Even now his heart is still racing, mouth dry as he stares forward into the wall with a mixture of worry and gratefulness.

Once she’s relaxed, he picks up the previously discarded dinosaur, placing it in his lap next to her. Thankfully, she seems to have forgotten about the keys, happy to latch onto the plushy.

He takes his phone back out with the intent to resume his earlier scrolling, but he can’t entirely take his eyes off her.  He’s more interested in watching her reactions than he’d ever admit.

In some ways she reminds him of you, mainly the eye color and the way her cheeks pinch up when she smiles.

You seem the motherly type to him so he assumes you’re leagues better at this than he is, but you’ve never mentioned having to babysit her before.

In fact you’ve never mentioned her before at all.

Maybe you enjoyed doing it but kept quiet so you didn’t have anyone intruding or asking to see her, babies can feel stranger danger so that made sense, it’d probably be overwhelming. She doesn’t hate him though, maybe you knew that she wouldn’t? 

Despite the panic she’s sent him through he really wouldn’t mind watching after her again. It'll probably be easier with you here, though he isn’t sure what he’d do if you were, he’d just be sitting around while you did everything.

God, she is really goddamned adorable. He smirks as he takes a second to allow himself to outwardly express something positive, watching her slap her tiny hand against the toy.

Usually the idea of having a baby is the worst one anyone can have, but right now he isn’t all that opposed to it. Not that it looks simple, more that it looks to be worth it.

He knows he’d make super cute babies, based on what he looks like and has always looked like the kid would outshine any other snot maker.

While he didn’t know what you looked like as a baby he just assumed you did too, briefly considering what a baby would look like if it came from you and him.

He’s got his mother's blonde hair despite his father's brunette coloring so that’s a dominant trait, possibly overriding your own but who can know, it’d more likely have more of your features.

Out of anything he’d want a little girl just like this one, though he’d be happy with anything as long as it's yours. Your features have always been something he likes, face as well as body, you’re built well in every aspect he tends to care about.

That, and your winning personality, even he can see that it’s a very pleasant contrast to his own. A kid with a mixture of both would be undoubtedly unstoppable, making him proud left and right.

Suddenly the thought bubble pops as reality rises to the surface.

You’re not his and he doesn’t like you anyways, this doesn’t bear so much thinking since it’ll never happen.

A heat takes to his cheeks as he tries to move on and pretend he wasn’t having a domestic fantasy involving you, mostly pretending he hadn’t had any fantasies about you.

It was something that’d creep into his mind sometimes.

Kirishima and Deku tended to have some softer traits alongside their bolder ones but it just wasn’t the same coming from either of them.

You had a certain tenacity to you, it was totally within your options to let some rich older man take care of you but you wanted more for yourself, you wanted to be a hero.

It made you strong, and you were strong because you worked for it constantly. As thick as your innocence tended to be, he was fairly confident you could knock him unconscious if it strikes you as the right choice.

He shook his head and made an effort to clear out all his emotions, directing his attention back towards the baby to ground himself. 

At some point during his daydreaming she’d knocked out cold, the dinosaur laying on the floor beside him, propped up against his chest, quietly snoozing while drooling a slight amount. Even if he wanted too he couldn’t be grossed out, it was way too cute of a sight for him to get mad.

Looking at her makes him feel tired, so he decides that taking a nap wouldn’t be a terrible idea. Careful to avoid waking her, he shifts around to get comfortable, hooking an arm around her so she doesn’t teeter backwards while he’s moving.

He thinks about whether he should turn her over and lay her on the blanket, unsure of what the proper protocol is.

His neck is gonna get super fucked up if he stays sat like this, so he very slowly gets up and lays on his bed, keeping her held to his chest until he’s flat enough to let gravity do the work. For a moment he returns to thinking about laying her on a flat surface but he lets her stay as she is, being a light sleeper means he’ll be able to deal with any problems if there are any.

-

After thanking Aizawa for the extra sparring lesson, you quickly get yourself showered and changed.

It’s been about two hours since you left her with Bakugou and you were getting increasingly worried he was reaching his limit.

Honestly you didn’t expect to be gone this long, but you were glad you gave him the estimate because it meant he’d have less reasons to be upset with you.

You prepare yourself for him to yell at you for leaving him alone with a demon for so long, even if she’s rarely a problem you do suspect he’ll be dramatic.

Still, it was a godsend that he said yes to begin with, you were going to make sure to tell him that.

When you get to his room you don’t bother with knocking, opening it to let yourself in without hesitation.

You were going to say something, but you forget the instant you lay eyes on the scene in front of you.

Practically swooning, you place a hand over your mouth to prevent making any noise, getting your phone out to document perhaps the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

He’s laying on his bed, one arm over her and one over his eyes to block out the light, her tiny hands secured around the collar of his shirt, both of them peacefully asleep.

Not intending it to be blackmail but being aware it would probably become that, you take pictures from several different angles, wanting nothing more than to show everyone.

Though, for his own sake, you don’t actually send them anywhere near the class.

This doesn’t mean you don’t send them all to his mother, you do.

It does pain you to know you’ll have to hold off on showing people lest the information come back to him, but you do make it your phones home screen anyways. 

[rent-a-bat]

Drabble #3

Promt: #1 “You don’t have to do this alone”

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

A/N: Aaaaaand it's done!! I really liked writing this one, it made me soft all over. I really hope you like it!! There was a dialog I really wanted to include but didn't really know how, let's see if you can find it. Enjoy!

Requests open

The first time it happened, it took you by surprise.

He arrived with a crash, falling from the ceiling, and getting straight into action. The way he moved, how he fought, everything he did was calculated, yet it flowed so easily like a second nature to him. If Batman was all brawl, Nightwing was all movement, he moved like he was giving a show, one you couldn't help but watch. Nothing like the clumsiness you moved with, relieved if only a little that your lack of any formal training could be helped by your abilities.

The warehouse you were in was one of the many you’ve been taking down for a while, a place where people gathered for illegal purposes, too small for the big guys to notice, which meant it was a job for you, nothing unusual, except for the number of people you were not ready for.

A job that should have been easy but escalated as more people started to come. He arrived just as a jab had you on the floor, not before you took out the one responsible, if he was surprised at the number of bodies already taken out, he didn't show it. The moment you realized who he was had you hiding as fast as you could, careful not to be seen and happy to let him finish with the rest.

You watched him fight until the last one fell unconscious. He lingered for a while after that, making a call to what you guessed was the GCPD, looking around as he did so, like waiting for you to come out and then, just as fast as he came, he was gone. You stayed hiding even after he left, you were sure he hadn't seen you, but one can never be too sure, so you waited, in case he wanted to come back. Minutes passed but he never came. Before you knew it the sounds of sirens surprised you, the police were getting closer, which meant you also had to go.

Gotham was your home, born and raised, and like many who did so, you were used to its antics but cared for the city nonetheless, even when this city was a danger to people like you, people with abilities that will have them either fighting for you or trying to kill you, if you were not with them you were against them, something they needed to get rid of.

You knew you were different from a young age. After your parents died you went into the system, a place that's not easy on those who've lost it all, where the first lesson you learned was that in order to survive, you had to fight for everything, literally. And the more you fought, the easier it was to see what made you different.

Your abilities were far from super, but where enough. Just fast enough to dodge a bullet, just strong enough to lift a car, just invulnerable enough to keep going, just enough to save a life, to help those who needed it, to keep the weak safe. And that's what you did.

It took you time to be ready, training yourself to control your power. Too much force might break them, too fast and you’d be doing more damage. Your suit was easier, something light so you could move freely, but strong enough not to break. All black to hide yourself at night, your hair neatly pinned down and a hood to cover yourself, attaching to mask that hid half of your face. It was a long way, but when you were finally ready, you took it to the streets.

While the big ones took out big organizations or fought against the ever-growing list of rouges, you helped the ones that thought were lost, that thought they weren’t important enough to be saved. A girl trying to get home safe, a student getting mugged, doing the little things, because you knew that helping the people of Gotham was the real change.

Trying to go unnoticed in the city where the greatest detective resided was a feat in itself, but you had managed to do it so far, until the little problems you were trying to fix got bigger.

The second time it happened you were expecting it, still, you couldn't hold your surprise when you saw him appear.

A growing number of disappearances and a little digging through the streets of Gotham had you at the docks. Turns out, the warehouses you had been taking down were part of a larger operation, still small, but if left alone it could grow into something much more troublesome, which explains why Nightwing appeared that night and how your chances of staying anonymous were closing to zero.

He arrived just like the first time, so when he landed on the floor and all eyes were on him, you took it as your queue to go, freeing the people your top priority.

The Intel you had was scarce, rumors here and there, bits of information you heard passing by, so you weren't sure how much you could trust it. Luckily for you, that information proved to be true. The area you were headed remained heavily guarded, even with all the commotion on the other side.

Deciding it was now or never, you charged. Taking advantage of your speed, you made your way to the farthest corner of the warehouse, to some merely a blur, a well-placed hit taking them down, but even then you weren't invisible, the moment they saw what was happening they began to shoot. Bullets grazing you as you made your way to the container where they kept them, the hits weren't strong enough to pierce but they still hurt, leaving bruises and scratches on your skin. Moving through the pain you kept going, until you took down each of them, clearing the area enough to check on the people while Nightwing continued fighting with the rest.

The container was chained close, nothing a good pull from you couldn't break, but before you could do anything else, a quick glance to the other side made you stop. Nightwing was a good fighter, you could tell that from the last time you almost met, but they were closing in on him, you could see he was getting tired, his body losing the previous easiness he had, there were more than last time, and he was fighting alone.

You had to make a choice, taking the chance, and freeing the people now, leaving him to his luck, or risk everything you've worked on remaining invisible and help him. Letting out a groan, you moved before you could regret it further, hurrying to meet him in the middle, knocking out a guy as you reached him. He paused for a moment to look at you, smiling a little before he went back to fighting.

You worked in tandem. He moved with you. Every open you had, he covered it, the ones you fought, he made sure they stayed down sending some your way so you could do the same. It felt like dancing.

The both of you working together managed to take them all in no time. You hurried to check on the people, making sure everyone was okay and no one was hurt, confirming they were the ones that'd been reported missing. Leaving the rest to him you quickly made your way out, before being stopped just as you crossed the door.

"Hey! Wait!" He grabbed you from the arm, his grip firm but soft. A little tug had you turning around to look at him, his face flushed from the fighting, smiling from ear to ear.

You looked down to the hand that was still holding you, following your gaze he let you go, holding up his hands as a sign of peace. You rubbed at the spot his hand left, it felt warm.

"What?" You said, not trying to hide how much you did not want to have this conversation. You had done enough showing yourself like that when you helped him, talking was another mistake you didn't want to add for tonight.

"I saw what you did back there. You handled yourself well." He kept smiling, ignoring the sharpness in your voice.

You remained silent, eyes locked on him. Seeing nothing else was coming from you at the moment, he kept talking.

"You're welcome, by the way" you laughed at that. His smile grew as he looked at you, making you do the same.

"Cocky much?" The question leaving your mouth before you could think

"Some might say that." He winked, getting another laugh from you.

“I could've handled it on my own.”

“I know you would.”

“I would! I ha- I had a plan.” Your emotions were getting the best of you. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “I didn't need help.”

“I know.”

“Don't be condescending.” Now was his turn to laugh. You glared at him, his laugh making you feel things you were not in the mood to acknowledge.

“I'm not! You seem more than capable enough to me, but I can't help saving someone so clearly in distress.”

“I'm not some ‘lady in distress’ for you to come and save me or whatever it is that you do”

“Are you sure?” he was having fun, if the amusement and the ever-growing smile on his face were any indication, and you were in no shape, physically or mentally, to keep up with his games.

“Dick.” you huffed, no malice in your voice as you said it.

“At your service.” he said with a wink. Was it a habit of his?

"I'm Nightwing." He introduced himself as if he wasn't one the most famous vigilantes in Gotham, extending his hand towards you, expecting.

You looked at his hand for a moment, thinking what it would mean to take it.

"And I'm leaving." You finally said, turning around as you began to walk, leaving your speed for when you were further away from him, hurrying to leave before the GCPD could arrive.

"I didn't hear your name." His shout making you pause for a moment. "It'd be nice to have a name for the mask."

You thought about it for a moment, how fast were you to change your mind for someone you'd just met, but he had something that made you want to open up and break your own rules, something that made you want to reach out.

"I'm Nobody!" You shouted without turning back. Your name was a little play on words. If they say nobody is going to save you, you could at least give nobody a body to do so.

"See you around, Nobody!" You could hear the smile in his voice as he shouted back.

You walked a little more before breaking into a run. Your conversation leaving a warm feeling in your chest.

A third time became a fourth, and a fifth, and before you knew it you began to wait for him to come and vice versa, working together on the case and sometimes more. Keeping each other company on patrol in the nights where you could barely catch your breath and the ones where all you did was talk. He became your friend, someone you could rely on, who you could talk and tell things no one else would be able to understand. The life of a vigilante was lonely, you both knew that well, but the nights you spent together made you feel otherwise.

The night you finally decided to reveal your identity was one you'll never forget. After years of being almost invisible, of not daring to appear, fearing who might find you what they'd do if they knew about you, the time spent with him had you tossing all of them away. And when you finally did, taking down your hood and removing your mask, your heart roaring in your ears as you looked at him, waiting. The joy, the calm, everything you felt when his hand went to his own mask revealing his face, his permanent smile and his beautiful eyes for you to see, where nothing you'll ever be able to describe.

“I’m Dick.” he extended his hand to you, much like the first time he did so, only this time, you took it, no longer afraid of the meaning.

“And I’m y/n.”

The more involved you became with him, it was a matter of time before you finally met the big guy. Batman was imposing, but you could see why Dick respected him so much. He welcomed you, offered help, if you needed. The rest of the group was just as welcoming, chatting and joking with them. Dick was more than happy by your interaction, beaming as he looked at you. Here, with these people, you felt welcomed, safe, all thanks to him.

Today was one of the few nights where Gotham was calm, it wasn't like nothing happened, but it was slow enough that you could still rest and take your time. You were sitting with Dick on a rooftop, enjoying each other’s company in silence, you always felt comfortable with him, that's why you took it as a now or never.

“Hey, Dick?”

“What is it y/n.” the way he said your name leaving goosebumps all over.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” You took a deep breath. You could do it.

“I wasn't the best with you at first, and you didn't know me, we were strangers. So why keep coming back?” You finally asked the one question that’d been rounding your head from the beginning. He remained silent for a while before he could answer, his cheeks and ears getting redder with every second.

“We, uh, heard from you a long ago.” he started to say, visibly flustered. “Nothing specific, just that there was someone helping out in the streets.” he glanced at you as he rushed through his words.

“Batman let it pass because it wasn't anything dangerous and it was pretty on the low, we actually lost track of you a couple of times.” he smiled, “That was quite impressive, you were really good at that.”

“That was the point.” you blushed at his admission, not that you weren't as invisible as you thought, but that he was still impressed that you managed it, if even a few times. He left out a chuckle, low enough to for you to miss if you weren't by his side, his sight lost in the horizon like lost in thought.

“But then, we found each other that first night, you had taken out half of them already, I was impressed. I couldn't see you, but I knew you were there, that's why I stayed, I wanted to talk.” he looked at you once more, his sight fixed on you as he continued. “Then I thought that if you were trying so hard to cover your tracks then you'd show yourself when you were ready, so I left, but the feeling lingered.” you felt his hand on yours. Not daring to look down, you took it and held it firmly, relishing the warmth it gave you.

“I guess, what I wanted to say that night was that, you don't have to do this alone.” your heart clenched, tears threatening to come out as his words echoed in your head.

“That's why I kept showing up. I wanted to support you, let you know in a way that there are people you could count on. That you could count on me.” he was the first to look away, taking both your hands in his as he waited for you.

You knew words wouldn’t be enough to convey what you felt, not enough to thank him for what he did, of how he did that and more, the lump in your throat not helping either. He gave you a place to come back, someone to trust. So, you did the only thing close to that. You took your hands away from his, ignoring the question that flashed through his eyes, placing them on his face, holding it carefully as you pulled him down to you, hoping he could feel everything you did as your lips touched. He let out a surprised gasp, before he took your face and deepened the kiss, his mouth moving with yours like an answer, that he understood. Tears freely flowed down your face, not touching the ground as he wiped them away with his thumb, caressing your cheek. When you finally broke apart, foreheads touching while you caught your breath, you smiled, a laugh passing between the two. You held each other after that, holding closer as you enjoyed the night. The start of many to come.

[ericamzdm]

Confrontation-Escalation

Okay, so. People do get that Shadow Weaver wasn’t abusive because she was uncontrollably awful right? And that she, uh, lies? A lot? Basically constantly?

The way Shadow Weaver treated Catra and Adora as children wasn’t random violence, driven by unformed malice - it was an extremely intentional pattern of escalation meant to shape Adora into profound compliance and dependence, a tool that Shadow Weaver could use (and misuse) with no fear of her fighting back.

Stepping through this in detail:

Age 4

Shadow Weaver assaults Catra.

(Full analysis here and here.)

Adora is being confronted with the fact their situation is nightmarishly bad, and that she has no power to change that.

But what Adora can do is tell herself (and Catra) that “Nothing really bad can happen, so long as we’re together.” - she can minimize how she perceives the harm, and thus be able to continue to engage with the harmful, dangerous person/society she’s dependant on.

Which is the point.

Shadow Weaver didn’t beat up four year old Catra for shits and giggles (at least, not primarily). She did it to force Adora into exactly this kind of denial, to mess with her ability to accurately judge danger, and to numb her to her own feelings of fear and hurt.

This - “Nothing really bad can happen, so long as we’re together” - is the foundation that Shadow Weaver is going to be building on for the rest of Adora’s life.

Age 6

Shadow Weaver threatens to kill Catra (while Adora is trapped in the room, forced to watch).

Besides being utterly horrifying on it’s own merits, this is a confrontation.

Shadow Weaver has forced Adora into a situation where “Nothing really bad can happen, so long as we’re together” is viscerally untrue.

Which means that Shadow Weaver can introduce an escalation - “[Adora] must do a better job of keeping [Catra] under control” - that Adora is forced to accept.

This combination of confrontation and escalation allows Shadow Weaver to insert new (false, abusive) elements directly into Adora’s core beliefs, bypassing examination or challenge. To be safe - to allow them to exit the room without further harm - Adora has to accept that it’s no longer “Nothing really bad can happen, so long as we’re together” but now “Nothing really bad can happen, because I can control the way people treat us [by controlling Catra]”

This profoundly warps her relationship with Catra, but that’s not the primary purpose - this is about further damaging Adora’s ability to meaningfully register harms, and to push her into believing that she is the one in control of, and thus responsible for, the abuse she and Catra suffer. Adora is further driven to ignore and minimize these harms, because any bad things she fails to prevent are now her fault, and she cannot bear the weight of that guilt.

Age 12

“Good work, cadet.”

(Full analysis here)

Confrontations do not have to be overtly hostile. In this case, winning because Lonnie stuck her oar in challenges the idea that “Adora can control how she and Catra are treated”.

“I like your focus” is the escalation; telling Adora she won because of her “focus” is lovely and validating and desirable on the surface, but there’s a nasty barbed hook at the heart of it - because if Adora is just that special, if Lonnie’s actions didn’t matter, then Adora should be able to win no matter what.

“Nothing bad can happen, because I can control the way people treat us [by controlling Catra].” has become “Nothing bad can happen, because I can control everything, because I am special.”

The price Adora pays for this unearned win is having the weight of the world on her shoulders, the expectation and obligation to never lose, no matter how the deck is stacked.

And anything that suggest this isn’t true? That Adora isn’t in control, a natural winner? That’s just jealousy and lying, and needs to be ignored or shut down immediately, just like any other indication that Bad Things are happening.

NB: Someone primed Cobalt to expect great things of Adora, and someone set Lonnie up to regard Catra winning as “fighting dirty”. SW isn’t physically present in this scene, but her fingerprints are all over how it played out.

Age 18

Confrontation - Despite Adora hitting all her marks, Shadow Weaver strips her of the thing she most wants - Catra and the rest of her team. Adora’s sense of specialness (and thus control) is in crisis.

Escalation - Shadow Weaver tells her she didn’t actually want those things that she was denied. What she wants - what she had really been working towards - was not the support and admiration of her friends, or her ability to guarantee their safety through her own success.

No, what she wants is to be what Shadow Weaver raised her for.

It must be. [if it isn’t, then everything she has ever believed - that she is special, that she is in control, that nothing really bad can happen - is a lie.]

[that-peach-anon]

Did no one say Sam and Max coraline au? Ahaha i wrote for it anyways (:

Almost 3000 words of Geek angst because i adore her character kahshdkshs

This was written based on @lesbialien 's coraline au and i hope y'all enjoy it!

---

Geek had never been one to depend on others. She had grown up in the basement after all, and being a kid genius, she knew how to take care of anything necessary for survival.

Not that she had been taken care of before. Not many people are interested in adopting the kid that was busier studying bugs' corpses rather than playing dolls with her peers. But that was okay too. She'd much rather be left in the orphanage where there were no parents to smother her and distract her from her studies, she was a person of science after all.

And then came Sam and Max. A duo that called themselves “freelance police" but had much too twisted morals and messed up ethics to be considered any sort of responsible and trustworthy employees. And that was okay. Geek didn’t have that many worries about ethics and morals, after all, to learn things, sometimes morals and ethics get in the way. If she had been adopted by normal people, they would have insisted for her to stop with the dissections and chemically hazardous experiments because that's “not for kids", and that would have been awful. But no, Sam and Max didn't care about that, in fact, most of the times they were the ones in danger, where Max would eat dead animals or consume poisonous chemicals, and Sam would just laugh it off and never get angry at Geek for them allowing Max to do so.

And that made sense. They weren't her parents, so why should they berate her for doing whatever she wanted. She more or less worked for them, only seeing them every few times that they needed some wacky gadget for another case. And that was totally fine with geek. Yeah. They didn’t care if Sam and Max were always busy, they were just her employers, more or less. So it was fine that they didn't spend that much time with the duo, she was only there to make stuff for them, and that was okay. Or at least she liked to pretend so.

But then something changed. One day, the rabbit and dog approached her looking rather embarrassed, which wasn't common for them, and asked to talk to her. That had triggered some alarms. They never were serious or mature enough to have talks instead of just being ignorant to everything, so this meant they were about to do something drastic that involved her. And that wasn't bad, per say. They were glad to finally be able to spend some time with the two, but she wasn't sure if this was going to be time spent doing something enjoyable.

Maybe they had decided that her services were no longer necessary? Or they had found another child genius that was happier and more energetic than Geek will ever be, and they were about to trade her for them? The possibilities were endless. But nothing had prepared them for what truly happened.

Across from them sat a beaming Sam and Max, signed adoption papers on top of the table that stood between them. Adoption papers for them. They had adopted Geek. They were her parents. This wasn't really what she expected out of all the unpredictable things they could do.

“You two… adopted me?” Her voice had been quieter than she wanted it to be, barely able to fight back the nausea slowly crawling up their throat. “Officially? As in, legally?”

“Well, yes.” Sam looked rather calm for what was supposed to be a tremendous occasion for her. “Me and Max were talking during a case and we thought it would be a good idea to adopt you, so we did.”

“Plus, the orphanage was being annoying as hell and kept bothering us about if we were gonna adopt you or else you had to go back!” Max added, apparently picking something off the sharp blades he had as teeth. “And we don't wanna look for a replacement, so this was the least troublesome thing we could do.”

If she didn't know Max better, they would think he didn't care at all, but she could see how his left foot was bouncing in place, a nervous stim he had whenever he was anxious. Max always had a soft spot for kids, so she knew he was just trying to look calm while he panicked on the inside.

“Am… am I supposed to call you two dad and father from now on?” She asked, bunching the end of her skirt in one hand.

“Do whatever you want, kid.” Max answered dismissively, Geek ignoring the way he had one of his hands holding Sam's, another telltale sign of nervousness from him. “We don't care.”

“Okay.” Their usually strong voice was now soft, barely leaving their tongue as it weighed down like lead. “I'm going back to the basement if you don't mind.”

“We'll be here if you need to talk, alright, kiddo?” Sam had asked, already stretching as he got up from the chair. Geek had done nothing more than give a dismissive hum, already having their mind in a turmoil, thoughts thrashing around like a hurricane, making her head spin and stomach tighten.

  That conversation had happened a few days ago, already just a sour memory she kept repeating in their head as her thoughts bothered and invaded her mind. Not much had changed noticeably. Now they would sometimes check up on her before grabbing a gadget and leaving, or tell her about a case before already going to another, leaving her alone for hours on end. Now Sam used more nicknames like kiddo and champ, and Max had taken to calling them kid instead of Geek. And that wasn't bad, Geek just couldn't bring herself to act with them as if everything was fine and nothing changed.

Were they going to stop her from doing her experiments because it was too dangerous and they had to make sure she stayed alive? Would they not let her do anything dangerous in case she could get hurt? Or maybe they would try putting her in school, even if she had already attended college at this point. Or they'd simply stop her from being herself and make them act like a normal child.

That would be way out of character for Sam and Max, but maybe this wasn't something she was scared of, but rather something she hoped for? Perhaps she longed for the two of them to worry about her and care about her instead of only herself being the only one that actually cares about what happens to them. Maybe she wanted a break from having to take care of herself while still a child and have someone else be the one caring for her.

But she couldn't ask that from Sam and Max, they had reckless personalities. They only really showed direct worry when something truly bad happened, like when one of the duo went missing and the other went mad trying to find them. To be honest, she didn't think they truly had showed any direct worry. Whenever they asked about how she felt they always dismissed her answer because they were more entertained by something else. They truly did try to care for them, but the two of them just weren't used to not being in tune with someone's feelings like they were with each other’s. She doesn't remember the last time one of them had to ask the other how they felt, they just usually knew.

She knew they didn't do it out of malice, they just didn't really know how to communicate. The two had never been the most in tune with feelings, barely acknowledging their own in favor of living a blissfully ignorant life. Their attempts at “parenting" Geek never quite worked out. She supposes it’s because they don't really know how to take care of something that has the capability of human thought. The most difficult thing the two had truly raised up until now was a crocodile, and he had had to be left in someone else's care in the end, so maybe it didn't count. But they tried, or at least tried to try.

The blame couldn't be placed only on the two, though. Geek's internal conflict also served as an incredibly unhelpful existence. While she did long for this whole family thing to be normal, it never did feel quite right. She felt like an intruder in the dynamic of the duo, like her only reason to interact with them was to provide a place where their gadgets came from. They felt… like a side-character, like someone who didn't belong. Maybe Sam and Max forgot about her whenever they weren't talking to her directly. I mean, the two barely knew she existed half of the time, so it was a possibility.

Anyway. So, listening wasn't their strong suit. But that's okay, at least they cared to ask, even if it did upset Geek when they found out none of them had truly listened. But that was alright, she could deal with being ignored, she already lived with that for 13 years. It was fine. She could just care for herself.

Which, wasn't something she was currently doing while dissecting a bass. In fact, she was so lost in thought, reminiscing over the words that kept playing in her head, that they had no time to notice as the scalpel slid and cut open a gash in their palm.

“Ow! Goddamn it!” They shouted in pain, the cutting tool falling on the tray next to her, letting out a loud bang as metal met metal.

Using a nearby tissue, she pressed it against the palm, grumbling at how much blood was seeping out and how annoying it would be when trying to move their hand. It was a bit deep; she probably would have needed to bandage it up but that was fine. They had created a gadget meant to cauterize wounds, so it would be healed pretty quickly.

Rummaging through the gadgets in their desk, she ignored the blood dripping and staining the tiles beneath her feet, sighing loudly when they remembered where the gadget was.

Max had taken it a few days ago to test his theory. The gadget looked like a simple butter knife, but it heated up dangerously, so the lagomorph had wanted to see if by stabbing someone with it, the wound would cauterize and it would be a good torture method. She hadn't been able to get in a word before Max had run away with it, a manic smile already on his face.

And just like with all the other gadgets they got from her that they didn’t end up destroying, it was most probably thrown half-hazardly into their closet, added to the junk pile they had, ranging from memoirs from their cases to just random crap they found and decided to keep.

Arriving to the office, she opened the door with her elbow, already prepared to apologize for all the blood falling from her hand, but just like every time Sam and Max left for a case, the office was empty, the only noise coming from the still on ceiling fan. Closing the door with their back, Geek looked around to examine the room, cringing at how everything was either littered with bullet holes or just plain destroyed.

Opening the closet with her foot, she pulled on the string that hung from the ceiling, closing her eyes as the artificial yellow light invaded their vision, fluorescent shine illuminating the room. Blinking to adjust, she stepped further in, eyes jumping around to try and spot the object she was searching for. Where would a gadget hide in such a messy-

The object she was looking for fell in front of her, startling them as it rolled away a bit. Sighing, she knelt down to grab it, eyes snapping up as she realized that before her stood a small purple door with a gold doorknob. It was one of the memoirs from a case that Sam and Max had gone on, a fight against a gigantic banana slug in a mostly inhabited building. In the end, the owner of the building, a nice woman named Coraline, had decided to destroy the place, claiming it had too many child disappearances and was no longer safe. Since the slug had left nothing, they both stole a door that was in the wreckage, just chucking it into the closet and forgetting about it.

But now, instead of being fallen as it had been before, it was vertical, attached to the wall, with a dim blue light coming from beneath it. Geek had seen stranger things in her life, so they simply shrugged it off and turned to leave.

“Geek.”

Freezing in place, she turned around as a lulling voice came from the door. How did it know their name? Putting the gadget down, seeing as the wound had already stopped bleeding, she stepped closer, already grabbing the knob to slowly pry the door open, tilting their head as inside there was only a long blue tunnel, similar to those fabric tubes cats and young babies played in.

This was new. It definitely wasn't her making, and Sam and Max aren't smart enough to make a whole dimensional portal, so this wasn't part of their knowledge. Crouching down, she started crawling through the tunnel, only looking back when the door clicked in place as it closed by itself. At the other end was a door almost identical to the one she had gone through, except this one held what looked to be like claw marks.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open, sighing in disappointment as it led back to the office. Stepping out, she gasped as they realized that Sam and Max were there now, both looking to their respective tasks as they worked away, Sam typing while Max carved something onto his desk. Above them hung a “welcome home, Geek!” poster, slightly crooked to the left as it held on by two thin nails, one in each of the top corner.

Hearing the door close behind her with a slam, both Sam and Max turn to her, Geek immediately turning around to look at the small, purple, closed, door.

“Geek! Where were you? We were worried sick! We were waiting for you to tell us about your gadget you're making but we couldn't find you anywhere!” Sam spoke, stopping his typing as he pushed the chair away from his table, already standing up to greet her.

“Yeah, I wanna know if I can kill someone with it!” Max shouted, jumping up from his chair as he tried scrambling after Sam, in a spider like way, crawling onto his shoulder.

“Sorry about disappearing, I was just going through that door in the closet.” She explained, turning back around and looking down at their feet. “I'm sorry.”

“That's okay, kiddo! Just tell us next time so we don't worry so much.” Sam ruffled her hair as he spoke, Max jumping down from where he had perched himself to hug Geek, making her tense up.

“Yeah, we missed you lots!” Max spoke, seeming not caring about how tense Geek was in his arms, or the way she was barely breathing.

Looking up at Sam, she let out a shout of surprise as they spotted the black buttons that substituted his eyes. Pushing away from Max, she stepped back, looking at him in horror to find Max, too, had button eyes.

“What's wrong, kid?” Max asked, tilting his head at them. “Got something in my teeth?”

“You're not Sam and Max.” She affirmed, backing away and already grabbing the doorknob once again.

“Well, of course not! We're Other Sam and Other Max!” The tall dog replied in a duh tone, as if it was obvious. “We're just like them, except better in every way! Now come on, tell us about the gadget.”

“Okay.” Even when talking only to what seemed to be imitations of Sam and Max, she couldn't bring herself too not be polite. Kids were supposed to obey their parents, according to all the movies and series she watched as a way to know how children normally behave. “It's a neutron destabilizer-"

“Ooooh, neutron destabilizer, huh? Sounds fun!” Max exclaimed, hanging off of one of Sam's shoulders, smiling.

“Do you even know what neutrons are?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“It's a part of the atom just like electrons and protons and all that sciency stuff.” He waved her off, and if he had actual eyes, she was sure he'd be rolling them.

“Yeah… anyway, I think the name is pretty self-explanatory so you must know what it does and-"

“But how does it work?” Sam interrupted, leaning back against his desk.

“You… actually want to know?”

“Of course, we like hearing about your day!”

“Oh.” She absent mindedly let go of the door, giving her full attention to them. “Well, it works by-"

And this was how she spent the rest of the evening. And sure, this Sam and Max weren't the real ones, but it actually felt nice to be heard once. Besides, they didn't seem to be hostile, so it didn't look as if they would be dangerous. So yeah, they did end up convincing them of sitting down to talk about other projects, but it was okay. It's not like she was going back. Visiting them was a one-time thing, right?

[lechairpourriedegrianri]

Untitled Shulker Box Fic!

I said that I’d tag you in this so @redwinterrises

Words: 1728

Description: Seven scenes of Grian contemplating his partnership with Scar

Warnings: Descriptions of blood, injuries, and violence

Though Grian hoped his partnership with Scar would end well, deep down he knew that things could only turn out badly. Case in point, the tree issue. “If we made an iron farm, do you think we could get enough iron shovels to dig up the desert,” Scar deliberated, deep in whatever constituted thought for him as they moved towards the desert.

“I keep telling you, trying to dig up the desert is a waste of time. If we get the dark oak forest then we’ll have a monopoly. How are we even going to make an iron farm? There’s like three villagers and Impulse has them all.”

“We're smart guys! We can think of some-OH! There’s a bee over there.” Scar bounded off on a detour and Grian gritted his teeth. Scar was great, but when he was taking such a lackadaisical approach to things. having to follow his orders was unbearable. He couldn’t wait to die the first time so he could get away. Scar ran back up, “Had to kill the bee; so you think we could just steal everyone’s iron and diamonds and stuff to make shovels?”

Feeling something in him tense, Grian turned to Scar and did his best to feign calmness and control, “Scar, where on the server can you find sand?”

“The desert, obviously, the bottom of lakes and the river, and the beaches too I guess.”

“And where can you find dark oak?”

“Just the one forest but-” he trailed off when he saw the piercing stare Grian was giving him, “Okay. Forest it is.”

——

Grian stood on the edge of the sand dune, sun beating down on him as he watched Scar and Etho haggle over shoes. “Those are awfully nice shoes, Etho. Surely they’re worth some good reputation.”

Grian sighed, sick of watching Scar scam people for worthless garbage, “Don’t take him up, Etho. He’s cheating you.”

“No I’m not. You’ll get fifty whole reputation points, Etho.”

“What even are reputation points?”

“I’ll take it,” Etho kicked his shoes off and took the scrap of paper from Scar, making Grian groan in frustration.

After happily waving Etho off, Scar turned to Grian. The way the sun glinted off his scar from the creeper explosion still made it look like it was fresh and bleeding red. “Don’t interrupt my dealings,” he muttered, the shadows turning his skin a twisted grey. Grian nodded, having no intentions of doing what he was told.

——

“How do you make a tnt trap?” Back home the question would have been completely innocuous, but here, with his torn pants exposing the deep gashes on his legs from the fall, highlighted on his dead-looking skin, Scar’s words gave Grian cause for concern.

“Where are you going to use it?”

His eyes glowing with malice, Scar clenched his fist, “Dogwarts is going to pay. I’ll use the enchanter as bait and wipe them out in one quick blast.”

Immediately, images of Scar blowing himself to pieces rolled through Grian’s head. As nice as that would have been earlier, now….it was too dangerous. He had no idea which one of the others he could trust, and which could trust him. Love him or hate him, at least Scar was loyal to him. As much as he didn’t want to, Grian placed down a chest, “Give me the tnt you got.”

“Um, sure.” Scar tentatively dumped the tnt in the chest, as well as a spattering of minecart, observers, and pistons. “Are you building the trap or are you just taking this away from me?”

“I’ll….I’ll build it,” Grian shook his head, “It’s preferable to having you build it.”

“Good,” Scar placed a hand on Grian’s shoulder. It was rough, less a friendly gesture and more holding his lackey in place. “I’m glad you’re finally listening to me for once.”

——

Smoke billowed from the gates of Dogwarts, and Grian laughed. Jimmy had been stupid enough to nudge the tnt while the were disarming Grian’s trap, and and he, Skizz, and Ren himself had been turned into an ashy crater. Just the thought of it made Grian turn from giggled to unrestrained, ridiculous laughter. Scar and Ren grappled on the edge of the hill, and with a sickly crack Scar slugged Ren in the face, sending him toppling over the edge and letting him hit the ground with a thud.

Blood trickling from his forehead and a nasty scrape across his arm, Ren bellowed furiously, “You’ll pay for this, desert fiend!” before limping back to Dogwarts. Scar scampered away as well, likely to recoup in the desert. Feeling giddy, Grian turned to follow him, but Martyn grabbed him by the wrist.

“Grian, wait. I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?” Grian glanced back at Martyn, who was a mix of worried and hopeful.

“Big B and I were talking and…as the Blue Sword Boys we think we should try to rescue you from Scar. We’re going to ask Skizz to kill you so that you can get out of your deal without suspicion.”

Something in Grian churned, and a frown curled over his face, “What makes you think I want out of my deal?”

Martyn tightened his grip, “What are you talking about?”

“Right now Scar trusts me completely, and I’d rather have the most powerful wild card on the server in my palm than at my throat. So,” he broke free of Martyn’s grasp and drew his sword, “That’s,” he slashed his sword across his opponent’s knuckles, leaving a thin trail of blood, “A no.” A boot to the stomach sent Martyn tumbling backwards, and Grian ran.

——

Grian and Scar sat on a hill at a safe distance from the Crastle, deep in thought as they watched Bdubs and Cleo move about inside of their stronghold. “There has to be a way to get to them,” Scar pondered aloud, “A full attack isn’t an option, and I’d doubt they’d fall for the tnt trap again.”

“What if we trap their bubble elevator,” Grian proposed, trying to avoid eye contact with his partner.

“They don’t have a bubble elevator.”

“Then we build them a bubble elevator, act like it’s a big gift from us, and trap it to kill them when they actually use it.”

“That’s…actually pretty smart,” surprised, Scar glanced at Grian, who was looking at the tower with a calm intensity. “Let me grab the materials for it and-“

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, I’m building this. You keep them busy while I get the job done.”

“You actually want to help me kill them?”

“Of course,” Grian flashed him a teethy, soulless smile.

——

Screams of pain and anger wafted in through the window of the bunker and blood stained the desert sands red. Grian sat huddled against the wall of their bunker, hand hovering over the lever to the kill switch. Almost the entire server was out there, playing capture the flag on the largest death trap the server had ever seen. A body thudded against the bunker’s iron door, and blood trickled through the crack beneath it. Blood………

Blind to Scott’s tearful screams of “Jimmy!” Grian pulled the lever.

The sound burst one of his eardrums almost immediately, and the blast caved in the wall he was leaning against, sending him flying across the room and slamming into the opposite wall, fracturing his skull and shattering the bones in his left arm. Ignoring the mind-breaking pain, Grian rolled over onto his back, listening to the sounds of panic as the final small explosions fired.

“Grian.” Ren shouted as he stumbled in through the collapsed wall. His right arm seemed to have been torn open, and his mane of hair was matted with blood and sand. An ugly crack ran through his crown. “You did this. You have to pay.”

“And he will.” Before Ren could comprehend, Martyn leapt into the bunker, driving his sword between Grian’s ribs and twisting it to double the pain. Grian’s vision blurred, taking on a yellow tint as it faded.

——

“Where are you, Scar?” Grian called softly as he stalked through the charred ruins of Dogwarts. He carried the sword of the Red King and was coated in the blood of the King’s Hand. He stopped in front of where the Renchanting building once stood and eyed it whimsically, “We did it, Scar. We made it to the end. Final two, bud.”

“I’d count that as a win-win.” Scar’s voice was weary, and Grian caught sight of him entering through the main entrance, one of the few remaining pieces of wall. An explosion had clearly taken a chunk out of his leg, and deep gashes painted his skin. Barely able to walk, he slid to the ground, leaning against an undetonated pile of tnt. “Is this the end?” He said something else that Grian couldn’t hear as he crossed the way and sat down next to his partner.

“I guess it is. We….we killed them all.”

Something in Scar chilled at the way he said it. With a trembling turn to look at Grian, he quietly asked, “So who wins?”

Grian stood up slowly, blood rushing through his head so loudly he couldn’t hear anything Scar said or what was happening around him. He held Ren’s sword carefully in his hands, admiring the etchings on them. In a slow, contemplative movement, he took the hilt and gripped it tightly. Whirling around in a single heartless move, he ran the Red King’s sword through Scar’s neck, killing him. “Me.”

Blinded by fierce, undeniable red, Grian scanned Scar’s battered corpse as it crumbled to dust. He noticed that Scar had been holding something behind his back as he died, something that he hadn’t wanted Grian to see.

As the rushing in his head faded, Grian’s hearing returned and he froze at the quiet, but all too familiar hissing he heard. Scar had had a flint and steel in his hand. He had figured out what was going to happen and set one last fire, a fatal insurance policy.

Grian laughed as the tnt detonated, obliterating him and finishing off the last life on the server. At one point, Grian had hoped that his partnership with Scar would end well, but he had known deep down that it could only end badly for them.

[cygnetofthesea]

WA AU: Finding Home

Boxing AU: In search of her father, Iris comes across Barry, the famed boxer of Central City. What started off as a quest to find a home, Iris finds love and a partner in her journey.

Iris watched his movements through the cage, focusing on his hands as a means to distract herself from what was actually happening.

She didn't know if she much succeeded if her thrumming heart was any indication. Or the hitch in her breath as she watched Barry's head snap back with the blow from his opponent. She wanted to call out to him. She didn't know what she'd say, implore him to just tap out or to throw an uppercut before going for the solar plexus?

But she remained silent. She knew if said a word or made the slightest noise, he would hear it. He always did and she knew he'd get distracted, worrying more about her being in distress than the fact he was meant to focus on winning the match.

They both hated that she had to watch him fight but both felt a sense of comfort with her being there. At least they were within reach of one another.

Iris tracked his movements, the sweat making his body shine under the floodlight over the ring, his feet moving swiftly as he dodged a blow. Barry was a slim man, tall and lanky, that when she had first met him she couldn't believe this was the intimidating champion fighter of Central City.

She had let out a startled laugh when he introduced himself, shaking her head as she glanced at him, head to toe.

"You're just a slip of a person," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

He stared at her in response, taking in her slight figure and she blushed. Iris supposed she was one to talk.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked when she struggled to rectify the situation.

"Um yeah actually, I was wondering who I'd see to train."

His stoic expression faltered then. Once again, those green eyes roved over her and she couldn't help but become entranced by that particular shade. It wasn't deep green, but it wasn't seafoam green either. It was somewhere in the middle….like a pond green. Pond green eyes framed by thick lashes.

He did not have the makings of someone who was supposed to look intimidating and yet, he stood with an air of someone who could quite possibly incapacitate someone in a minute flat. His arms were wiry but with thick bands of defined muscles. They made themselves known as he crossed his arms across his chest.

He was examining her, she could tell, his head cocked to the side. She felt heat creep up her body, but she wasn't going to be swayed. She may be small but she was big. She had always been scrappy but bouncing around from foster home to foster home had taught her to fend for herself just enough to get to safety.

People always underestimated her small frame but Iris had learned to use it to her advantage. She wasn't going to let anyone dismiss her. It was with that thought, Iris straightened, leveling him with a stern look.

"Anyone ever tell you it's not polite to stare?"

Those eyes flickered up to look at her, a hint of amusement, as he slowly straightened his head.

He shrugged, "Never had a mother to teach me manners. Besides, if you're here to fight, I'm going to have to size you up."

Iris filed away that information. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "Neither did I, but at least I didn’t rudely stare at you."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Oh didn't you? And what about that 'just a slip of a thing' comment? Pretty rude, if you ask me."

Iris bristled, heat traveling up her neck. "Well, I'm not asking you. I was, however, asking about a trainer."

"Right, I don't train. I'm a fighter—"

"I know that," Iris cut him off, trying to keep the impatience at bay. She needed to move things along and this handsome jerk wasn't making it any easier. "You're a world champ and all," she continued blithely. "That's why I need your trainer. Harrison Wells."

Barry Allen narrowed his eyes, looking at her carefully. He stepped closer to her until he towered over her. Damn, he's tall she thought, craning her neck up to look at him.

They were so close now, Iris could feel the heat emanating from his body. She swallowed thickly as he once again let his eyes flicker over her, pausing at her lips. Instinctively, she curled her bottom lip and bit down as though retreating from his heavy gaze in fright. But the way her blood hummed in her body was anything but fearful. His eyes darkened before looking at her eyes again.

"Harrison Wells doesn't just train anyone. If you know anything about him, you ought to have known that."

His voice was slightly hoarse but she ignored it, looking at him defiantly. "I'm not just anyone."

"Who are you?" The question was weighted as though asking a million other questions simultaneously.

"Iris. Iris W—" Iris hesitated, belatedly realizing it was safer to go with an alias. Especially considering the dangerous nature of her investigation. "Williams. Iris Williams."

"Iris," he repeated softly, causing her heart to jerk in her chest. He hummed thoughtfully, his gaze never wavering. "I don’t know an Iris Williams. Especially one that might need to see Harrison Wells."

"Well, why would you? Look, I'm not here to see you, so just point me in the direction of Harrison Wells and I'll be out of your hair."

"No can do. I wasn't kidding when I said Wells doesn't train just anyone."

"Ok, fine, can I at least talk to him? Make my case or…" she trailed off. She had wanted to say or just ask some questions but she knew that would arouse suspicion. Iris was in fact there to get answers, not train. Harrison Wells was connected to her father and she needed to know how.

"Or what? What is it that you need?" His gaze was penetrating but there was something in them that made Iris feel warm, like he was really just trying to understand her. "What are you running from?"

She hadn't expected that. She had been running her whole life, chasing peace and stability, but this time it felt like she was finally running toward something. He didn't give her time to answer before he spoke again.  

"Tell you what, I'll train you."

Iris balked at him. "What? What are you talking about? You just said it yourself, you don't train."

He nodded in agreement. "That's true but I'm willing to make an exception."

Iris scoffed, still trying to make sense of the abrupt turn of events. "Well, that's all nice and everything, but I wasn't looking to be trained by you. There's a reason why I wanted Harrison Wells."

"Oh yeah? And what would that reason be exactly?"

He looked over her again, taking in her thin summer dress, her neck, before dipping down her sternum to where her dress lay low on her chest.

Suddenly he grabbed her by the waist, his large hands spreading to grip as much of her as possible. The sudden touch caused her to jerk, her hands falling against his hard shoulders. She gasped as the feeling, looking over to the men and women still training on the other side of the gym. No one seemed to pay them any attention.

"W-what are you doing?" she breathed, turning back to look at him. If she needed to, she knew she could always knee him where it'd hurt most, but she was transfixed by the look in his eyes and the feel of his hot palms bleeding through her dress. Her survival instincts should have kicked in by now—      would have—but as she looked into his eyes, there was no sign of malice, just caution and question.

His hands gave her a light squeeze before sliding up her slide until his thumbs reached the top of her ribs. "You're not wearing a wire are you?"

The questions brought her back to the present. "What? Why would I be wearing a wire?"

He didn't say a word, holding her gaze, and carefully, just barely brushed the underwire of her bra, her raised arms on his shoulders making it easier for him to access.  

Her breath hitched and she gripped his shoulders tighter. She wasn't sure what she was trying to do, pull him closer or push him away. His lips parted and it brought her back to the present.

She shoved against his shoulder, but he pulled her back, letting his hand slide down to her waist where it was still very much tantalizing but definitely safer.

He searched her eyes. "What are you running from?" he asked again, softly.

She felt so exposed in that moment, more exposed than her sunny dress could make her. Her hands dropped down to his biceps, distracting him and she took that moment to push against him once more.

He released her, studying her. She felt breathless from his stare. No one had ever looked at her like that, at least not while she was looking back.

She gathered herself, exhaling. "How do you know I'm not running toward something? If you can't help me, then there's nothing for me here."

She pivoted before he could say anything else, letting out a shaky breath as she headed toward the exit.

"Let me train you," he called out.

Iris's steps faltered. She looked over her shoulder, confusion clear on her face. "Why would you do that? More importantly, why would I want to do that?"

"You want Wells and he trusts me. If I can trust you then I'll lead you to him. Until then, I train you."

"I don't have time to waste," she said with a shake of her head. She turned away, resuming her trek toward the exit.

"This thing you're running toward. Is it not worth it?"

Iris stopped once again, her eyes falling shut. Of course it was. She didn't know what she wanted with Joe West, if it was just answers or an actual relationship with him, but she at least had to give herself a chance.

She swung around, her expression neutral as she assessed him. "You sure like to take liberties touching me." She didn't know why she said it but immediately felt the heat rush up her neck.

"I apologize, it won't happen again. I guess I don't trust very easily," he said. He looked sincere at least. "It's common in the boxing world, especially between trainers and their boxers though. We help position them and feel the movements. You'll have to get used to it if you want to do this."

She considered this for a moment. "Ok," she finally said with a nod. "When can we start?"

She had spent the next few weeks training with him and it was, in a word,     grueling. Beyond running, Iris never much worked out. She's had to knee or elbow some people growing up but most of her conflict involved running. Certainly not what she was doing with Barry at the gym.

On her first day of training, he eyed her appearance as he did when they first met. He walked slowly over to her when she had entered the ring.

She had worn a baggy sweater over her sports bra and leggings. "You won't want to wear anything heavy or loose," he said. "It'll slow down your movements, add unnecessary resistance."

"Oh! I was just cold on my way over," she explained, quickly shedding her sweater, looking around for somewhere to put it. He held out his hand for it and placed it on a chair at the corner of the ring.

He turned back to look at her again, taking in the new stretch of skin over her abs. Her sports bra was designed like a crop top, covering her chest but leaving her arms and torso bare. Iris felt her breath grow heavier under his gaze and fought to fidget in place. She didn't want him knowing how she made him feel. Partially because she wasn't entirely sure herself.

There was something intriguing about Barry Allen. When she had read about him, he was described in such a brutish way, she had almost hesitated in reaching out to him. Every single piece about him had been written with an awestruck tone even when some had disparaged him.

There were very few pictures she had seen—apparently he didn't like having his photo taken or talk to journalists—but the angles didn't quite show off his full figure. All that she could tell was that he had muscles and that he was tall. Extremely tall. Perhaps not so much by most standards, but to Iris and her five feet, two inches, he was a giant.

And that was exactly what she had seen when she first met him. Except he didn't look as menacing as the pictures made him out to be or as rough as the articles implied. Sure, he had been stoic, but not the ruthless man she had been amping up to approach.

But maybe this was worse. The quiet way he would look at her as though he was taking in every single movement, every single part of her didn't seem to escape his notice. And those eyes. Generally, it took Iris some time to be drawn to a person, but his eyes had immediately captivated her and she couldn't seem to look away.

He slanted his head, looking at the base of her throat. "That doesn't bother you?"

Iris's hand flew up to her throat, where the crop top had almost a turtle neck. She shrugged. "It's ok. It's keeping me warm."

He nodded in understanding. "You're going to be plenty warm in the ring. Especially with bodies all around you. It gets hot here very quickly. Maybe wear something that comes up to your collarbone."

She nodded, a stray lock of hair falling across her face. He reached up, hesitating before brushing it away. He tucked it behind her ear and let his finger lightly travel to her long, wavy ponytail.

"And you're going to want to put this in a braid. One of those crown things might be good since you're hair is long. Fighters with long hair tend to braid them or keep it short. Less of a distraction and less potential of your opponent playing dirty and grabbing it."

"Oh," Iris grimaced at the thought of her hair being pulled. She had been on the receiving end of those and not only was it painful, but it was terrifying too. The sudden yanking into some greater pain. "Right, of course. I can do that now."

She reached up to her hair but he stopped her hand from approaching. "It's fine for today. Just future reference."

He gave her another once-over before nodding. "Ok. Ready to get started?"

What a loaded question. Was she ready? Probably not, but if she waited until she was ready she may be waiting for the rest of her life. It was now or never.

She squared her shoulders and forced confidence as she looked at him. "Ready."

And that was how she found herself here, months later, her body a lot more firm and defined than they had ever been. Except she wasn't the one fighting in the ring.

Once Barry had learned of her motives, he stopped her training.

They had been dating, so to speak, for two months at that point. The pull between them was undeniable and both had resisted for their own reasons. Iris wasn’t looking to get close to anyone only to lose them and Barry didn’t want to pull her further into his world full of matches where sleazy characters gambled on him. But after they found themselves going for a walk one night in a bout of insomnia, it was hard to deny themselves something good in this world for once. They were exactly what the other needed.

But even then, Iris had done a good job of keeping things mum about her intentions. She was worried about pulling him further into her complicated mission and Iris always believed she was meant to go on this road on her own. But after signing up for a fight behind his back, she had finally shared the last piece of herself.

She had been preparing dinner for the two of them when he stormed into her apartment. He had an intense look on his face that she hadn't registered right away, smiling brightly instead.

His face softened at her smile and she remembered how he had once muttered her smile couldn't be explained by science.

"Hey honey," she said, letting her palm slide against his cheek. His day's worth of stubble rubbed against her palm pleasantly.

"Hey," he murmured, leaning into her touch before kissing her. She thought it was going to be a brief peck in greeting, but he lingered, breathing her in and deepening the kiss.

She certainly wasn't complaining as she sighed, melting into his warm and tight embrace. His fingers dipped underneath her top, tracing the skin softly.

She pulled away softly before she lost her breath and turned off the stove.

"Good day?"  

His mouth twisted, blinking a few times as if to wake himself up. He pulled away from her. It was only then she noticed the stress on his face.

"Hey, what's going on?" she asked while he pulled a rough hand through his hair.

He didn't look at her for a moment, as though contemplating how to start before he met her eyes, searching. "What's the endgame here, Iris?"

The question threw her. They hadn't officially used the boyfriend-girlfriend label yet, but they had talked about being exclusive and wanting to explore the undeniable connection between them. She thought they were on the same page but she felt dread dip into the pit of her stomach.

"What do you mean?"

"With your training, Iris. What is this all leading to?"

She let the relief fill her before she considered his words with a  frown. "I told you," she said. "I wanted to be trained by Harrison Wells."

He barely let her finish before he nodded, leaning against the counter. "Right, right, you said that. You're running toward something and training with Harrison Wells is going to get you there. But what are you running toward and why is Wells your answer? How is he the ticket toward this life you're trying to achieve?"

She felt her heart thud uncomfortably in her chest, her stomach in knots. But instead of acknowledging her building anxiety, she narrowed her eyes. "Where is this all coming from?"

"Did I or did I not tell you that you weren't ready for the first round of fights? That you weren't ready for the ring yet?"

"Y-yes, I heard you!" she said indignantly. "I didn't sign up for them like you asked."

"No, that's true," he said, pulling out a sheet and unfolding it. "But you signed up for something much worse: The League Battles."

He held up a copy of the sign-up sheet but Iris didn't have to look at it to see her name scrawled in her handwriting. She swallowed thickly.

"So I'm going to ask you again, Iris. What is your endgame?" He enunciated each word firmly, his eyes intent and his mouth set. She hadn't seen him look so grim since the first day she met him.

She sighed, looking away as she fumbled to pivot.

"I just wanted to give it a shot. Look, I know I'm nowhere near a pro at this point, but I have to experience a fight at some point, don't I?"

But even as she spoke, Iris could feel her excuse was feeble. She was in over her head when it came to these fights, but she didn't know what else to do. She had signed up for the League Battles out of desperation and hadn't thought about the consequences.

Her father had attended the League Battles at one point years ago. She didn't know why, but maybe the mysterious man that ran the show could lead her there and rumor had it, the winner of the League Battles not only won the prize money but a chance to meet the elusive Eobard Thawne.

If she couldn’t get answers through Harrison Wells, then maybe this Eobard Thawne would be her chance.

"'Just wanted to give it a shot?'" he repeated incredulously. "Do you even know what the hell the League Battles are? Even I've never entered it."

"Yeah because the fight only ever happens every ten years, you'd have been only eighteen when the last fight took place."  

Barry let out a sharp exhale, pushing off the kitchen counter and walking toward her. "That's not the point. The point is, I've been training to fight for nearly two decades whereas you've only been properly training for a couple of months. That does not make you prepared in any way."

"Well, I've got to try at some point don't, I? Why are you stopping me? I've worked hard for this, I earned this."

She felt the irritation prickle and take over any trepidation she felt. She's had enough of people telling her what she could or couldn't do. It was starting to get very old.

"Hey, look I'm not messing around here, Iris. I'm not telling you haven't worked your ass off these last  months, I'm telling you that you're not ready for this fight. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into."

The intensity of his eyes shook her but she decided to switch gears. "When are you going to lead me to Harrison Wells?"

"Iris, you need to finally tell me why you're looking for Wells. Anyone looking for him, that needs to find him, knows exactly how. The fact that you didn't tells me you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

Her eyes flashed at that. " Don’t do that. Don't condescend me. How are you the authority on what I do or don't know? You're the one that has no idea."

He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. "Ok then tell me. Please, Iris just tell me. I'm here for you and I'm trying. I've told you things about the operations here that I shouldn't have, but I did. I trust you but I feel like there's this whole part of you that I don't know about." He hesitated, looking vulnerable. "Don't you trust me, Iris?"

He said it so softly, rushing out with his breath. She felt a clench in her chest and a prickle in her skin at the hurt in his eyes. She couldn't bare that look, least of all because she was the cause of it.

She looked away. "It's…it's complicated."

He made a sound of disbelief. "Complicated? You don't think I understand complicated?"

Iris felt remorseful. Of course he understood complicated, he wasn't any more or less different than the orphans she met in foster care. Perhaps the thing that caused him to stand out more was the fact that he had been recruited by a boxing trainer at a young age and barely experienced the world after that.

"I know you do, it's just you're going to think I'm a fool."

His hands came up to her arms, caressing her skin in a way that eased the tension from her shoulders. "Hey," he said softly, waiting for her to look at him again. "I could never think you're a fool. Never."

And with his soft, beautiful pond green eyes looking into her, Iris could almost fool herself that there was love in his gaze. So the words came tumbling out, the story of her father, learning that he could be out there, needing to feel closure and not like she's just made up of fractured pieces.

A tear slipped down her eye, caught by his thumb. He wiped it away, sliding it down her cheekbone, across her jaw with the softest and warmest look Iris thought she'd could crumble in his arms and he would catch her.

He did. He pulled her into his arms and softly kissed her face: her eyes, her forehead, her temples, her cheeks, the corner of her lips. All the while, he mouthed words of love and reassurance against her skin.

He pressed his forehead against hers, pulling her into his safety. "You're not a fool." His lips brushed against hers as she spoke. "I've got you. We're going to find him."

She looked up at him with grief and despair in her eyes. She had carried this heavy weight her whole life and even though she was able to see the good in things, there was the ever-present dark cloud just underneath the surface that came out in times like these.

He held her securely in her arms and she basked in it. For the first time in her life, someone saw all the horror and unpleasant parts of her and still      chose     her. She felt like he was keeping those pieces together, his grip strong and sure around her.

She wanted to drown in the sensation.

She pulled back just enough to press her lips firmly to his, sliding them against his giving mouth. She felt his exhale, hot against her as he lunged for her. It was the way he kissed her, the way he held her that made her finally realize how afraid he was for her. Her own anger and frustrated had clouded her ability to see his fear when he brandished the sign-up sheet, but she felt it now in his kiss. The urgency, the firm grip as his fingers raked through her hair and pressed her to him. She could scarcely breath.

One of his hands pressed flat against her chest, shifting the neckline of her blouse enough to feel her heartbeat against her skin.

"Iris," he rasped, letting his lips slide over her jaw, leaving open mouthed kisses on her neck. "Let me do this for you. Please."

She gasped, her head tilting back from the pressure of his ardent kisses, his shirt bunching under her desperate grip on his shoulder.

She could barely process his words, her body burning under her touch, but she would later come to understand the implications of them.

"I'm standing in as your proxy," Barry later told her.

She stopped wrapping her hand abruptly, looking up at him. "What are you talking about?"

He bent down, sliding in between the ropes of the ring. His eyes were cautious but his steps were sure as he approached her. He took her hands in his, his fingers taking in the tape and cutting it.

"Wait, I wasn't done," she protested.

He ignored her and only pulled her closer, looking into her eyes. "I'm standing in your place for the League Battles. It's been done."

She felt her blood run cold. "Wh-what do you mean? I signed up. How are you—?"

Barry's hands trailed up her bare arms softly. "I'm not letting you get into this fight. You're not anywhere near prepared, you don't have a fighting chance of making it through this."

"Ok but why not just take my name off entirely? Why did you have to take my place at all?"

He shrugged casually. "You need answers and I'm going to get them for you."

"No!" She gripped his waist. "Don't do this. If it really is as dangerous as you say, it's not worth it. There could be other ways."

"Iris, you may have been wrong to sign yourself up without a thought, but you weren't wrong in your instincts. I've never thought to fight in the League because I never needed anything from Thawne, but I've heard the whispers. He's the Wizard of Oz and the League Battles are the yellow brick road. This'll get us closer to finding your dad."

She shook her head, fear mounting. "Don't do this for me, Barry. Please, you don't have to."

His brows furrowed. "Iris, you were willing to risk yourself, an untrained fighter. Why are you so afraid of me doing this?"

"Because I can't lose you too."

The words escaped her before she could stop them but the moment they were out, she realized she was tired of hiding anything else from him. She was tired of keeping him in the dark and she didn't want there to be any more secrets between them.

A small, sweet smile spread across his lips and Iris felt her heart clench in response. It amazed her that his face could get so soft and boyish especially when she saw him turn on the stoicism whenever they were out in public. But alone, when it was just the two of them, she was given the rare treat of his warmth.

He leaned into her, his large hands taking her face and pressing it against his own. "Why do you think I'm doing this? I'm not losing you and I refuse to let anything happen to you."

Iris's heart swelled and looked up at him. "First sign of trouble and you get out, ok?"

The corner of his lips curled into a slight smile and Iris already recognized the look on his face: he was humoring her. "Sure thing, babe."

"Just…just don't let anything happen to you ok? Or else, I'm stepping in, fists flailing. I'm not joking," she added when he laughed.

He nodded, pressing a smiling kiss against her lips. "Ok, mo chuisle."

It wasn't the first time he's said that to her in his perfect Gaelic, but it was the first time she heard the deeper meaning behind the words, what she meant to him.

And it was because of those words, mo chuisle, she was on the other side of the fence watching Barry fight against the brutish man, twice his size.

Mo chuisle, my darling, a chuisle mo chroí, pulse of my heart…    she was the pulse that kept his heart beating and so he would fight for her. But he was hers too and she couldn't stand to see anything happen to him.

The moment she stepped foot into the arena, she could already feel the difference between the regular matches she watched Barry fight and the League match. The air was grimy even as she spotted some well-dressed people. A stark contrast from the regular matches, the League Battles attracted the richest and the finest within a fifty mile radius, betting on prime fighters. And right now, there were people betting for and against Barry.

She clutched the necklace around her neck, her knuckles white with the force as she watched Barry throw several jabs in quick succession until his opponent finally dropped to the ground. Barry didn't waste any time as he drove an elbow into the man's solar plexus before grabbing him in a hold.

The referee slammed a palm against the ground once, twice…thrice and the bell rang, signaling the end of the match.

The crowd roared as the referee grabbed Barry's hand and raised it in the air, announcing him as the winner but Iris couldn't hear any of it. The crowd sounded muffled to her ears, her eyes trained on Barry, the adrenaline pumping through her body.

As though on autopilot, Iris moved past the crowd as Barry's pond green eyes met her. Like magnets drawn to one another, he released the referee's hold on his wrist and made his way to her, his lip split, body soaked in sweat.

They collided against one another, his slick body seeping through the thin fabric of her clothes but she didn't mind. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing his face as her heart thumped painfully against her chest, feeling his own on her body.

"You did it," she breathed through the salt of his sweat. "You did it, you won."

Despite his split lip, he pressed a hard kiss to hers as she let her fingers bury in his wet hair. "Of course I did," he breathed. "I'll always come running home to you."

The impending fights that were only going to get more grueling loomed over them, but in that moment, Barry and Iris held each other in their arms and savored the moment. They were in this together and she would make sure that he always came running home to her.

[the-fae-folk]

What type of powers do faeries have? What can they do with their magic and what can't they?

It’s actually a really good question, but a surprisingly hard one to answer. Let’s take a step back and look at what people have believed that Fairies actually are. They are described as a kind of mythical creature that is metaphysical, supernatural, or preternatural. These strange folk don’t actually have one single origin but are an amalgamation of countless sources of Folklore from across Europe. There are even different explanations given to the origin or nature of Fairies. Describing them as demons, deities, fallen or neutral angels, spirits of the dead or never living, incarnations of nature, prehistoric precursors to humans, deified ancestors, or even beings from Otherworlds beyond our own. But what can they do? What do their powers and magics entail? Well lets start with the most obvious. Glamour is easily the most remembered of fairy magics, but what it actually is is a lot harder to define than you would think. Nowadays, contemporary fantasy has distilled the idea of glamour into a sort of powerful illusion magic with the capability to make a person see, hear, feel, taste, even touch something that is different in nature then they are perceiving. Sometimes this is combined with the idea that the strength of belief can make something true and that powerful enough glamours can transcend mere illusion to become reality. But older variations of glamour, while they include much of this idea of illusion magic, has some interesting variations on it. Sometimes glamour included actual shapeshifting to a form that wasn’t the person’s own. Or it was used in hiding and disguising or making things and persons invisible to human eyes. They were said to be able to change their size and make themselves appear very small or very large. Whatever glamour is, it seems to deal heavily with perception and charisma. Other powers that Fairies were said to hold depended on where the story itself came from. The ancient Irish Tuatha Dé Danann who are said to have become the Fairy Folk after being driven from their homeland were thought to have had supernatural powers and magical artifacts of incredible power. Dagda’s cauldron which produced feasts which no company left unsatisfied, the spear of Lugh which was said to have never been beaten in any battle it was used in, the sword of light from whom no one ever escaped after it was drawn from its sheath, and the Stone of Fál which would cry out beneath the king who would take sovereignty of Ireland. Norse stories lent some of their own myths to the idea of creating artifacts with power. Chains that cannot break, goblets that flow with the power of the whole sea, magical clothing that grants the wearer all kinds of powers. Some stories gave them magic of a much darker kind. The ability to inflict diseases or afflictions upon those who crossed them, or sometimes just for pure malice. Sometimes to injure or even kill humans or others of their own kind without ever touching them. Causing persons to sicken and die over time or become addicted through various magical methods (such as being tricked into eating fairy food), or being entranced sexually or romantically against your will or better nature. In some cases they even performed what might be described as a binding upon a person to force their will onto them, or break that will entirely and turn a person into a puppet. Nature based Fairy Folklore often depicted them as being personifications of natural forces such as trees, flowers, rivers, lakes, and hills. But sometimes they were shown as beings who simply were closer to and more knowledgeable about nature and therefore could control or influence it in ways that humans could not fathom. Wings, though common in Victorian artwork were actually incredibly rare in Folklore. Flight, on the other hand, was not. Fae were often depicted as having various means of travel. The taming of birds, beasts, and insects to carry them, or magical flying through the air, or even some means of teleportation were all mentioned ways that the Folk could travel with magic. A lot of fairy lore involves people attempting to ward off Faeries with charms and minor enchantments such as St. John’s Wort, Four leaf clovers, wearing your clothes inside out, or carrying iron or fresh homemade bread. Much of this sort of thing tends to contradict itself. For example some stories mention bells keeping fairies away, while others depict fairy queens and ladies with bells on the harness of their horse. Even the things that were “Known” about the fairies usually just led to more confusion. One knew that giving clothing as a gift to a house brownie would drive it away. But there was a difference of opinion as to why. Whether the inferior clothing offended them, or if they were so delighted by the gift that they took it and left. A stray compliment or complaint could drive away a house faerie just the same. One account mentions a farmer whose field was magically threshed by the Folk, only after all his corn was finished the threshing continued and he guessed that they were stealing his neighbor’s corn, leaving him the choice of offending the Faeries by telling them to stop, or offending them by profiting from the theft of corn. Its important to note that some of the powers the Fae were thought to have are only mentioned in passing or vaguely discussed. Given how often people who intruded upon Fairy Rings found themselves stranded from their own time or even outside time altogether, it is clear that the Fae have some connection to a temporal magic we don’t get a clear explanation of. Whether the person returns the same age a hundred years later, or before they were even born, or turns to dust the moment they leave the circle because they age all at once in a single moment, the idea of time magic is not to be dismissed.

Granting wishes, having prophetic or near prophetic knowledge, being able to exert control over beings whose names they discover, having all kinds of powers and restrictions related to contracts and deals...these are many of the abilities that never seem to have a clear cut explanation because much of the lore either ignores the details concerning the whys and wherefores of such powers, or changes depending on where each bit of folklore came from.

And they of course have the ability to traverse easily to whatever Otherworlds are mentioned and discussed in the multitudes of stories. Whether underground, hidden in secluded parts of the world away from humans, or in another world entirely they seem to have many gates and keys that humans have a harder time working with. There are a lot of different things that have been occasionally attributed to Fairies that are also given to other characters and peoples in stories. Herbal and spellcraft type magic usually reserved for witches, the broader swaths of sorcery most often seen in characters like Gandalf in “The Lord of the Rings” who works mostly with very subtle touches of power and more his own influence and knowledge, ritual and ceremonial magic, and much else. In conclusion, it is interesting to see that while almost everything we have about the Faerie Folk agrees that they are incredibly powerful and dangerous to cross, we have very little concrete knowledge of what that power actual entails. For the most part it seems that the greatest danger from the Faeries is not their magic, but their inclination to play pranks upon humanity. Harmless or harmful, they kidnap and steal and mess up or break. They cause havoc and they fix at unexpected moments. It is possible that the nature of the Faerie power is not magic at all but simply a greater knowledge and understanding of forces of the world we cannot perceive. Like how an ant cannot fathom why the entire world seems to be having an earthquake, and no amount of explaining things like tractors and farms is going to make it understand, but at least if we could talk to it we might get it to figure out who was responsible, even if it doesn’t really know why or how.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here 

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears the echo of birdsong in her laughter, her songs to the gods in the wind.

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

Pro tip: Italics denote scenes in Akaashi’s dreams / past.  

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

Time passes. 

Akaashi graduates from university with top honours and gets recruited immediately by a publishing company. He’s mildly disappointed when he’s dispatched to the manga department instead of the literature department as he originally hoped, but it’s not all that bad, he gets to work with Udai-sensei on his new volleyball manga. 

He’s content, all things considered. 

His mother is constantly on his case to find a girlfriend - because she insists she’s growing old and wants grandchildren soon. To placate her, he goes on arranged dates with daughters of his father’s business associates, with nieces of his mother’s friends. While they’re pleasant enough, they all seem to come from the same mold - well bred middle class university graduates more interested in complaining about their bosses and talking about the branded bags they’re going to get next. 

Once he tried asking one of them about the type of flowers she likes best. His date blinked in confusion at first, but immediately brightened up and she said ‘roses, I guess? They look so good on instagram!’ 

He did not ask for a second date. 

Honestly, he’s not exactly looking to date anyone at the moment. He’s young, barely twenty three. Work is time consuming enough, with his days filled with constantly looming deadlines and chasing temperamental mangakas like Udai-sensei. His mother will just have to accept that grandchildren are very much not in the near future. 

But he does feel somewhat guilty -  ‘even Yuji-kun is seeing this lovely girl, auntie tells me,’ his mother nagged last Sunday, so he picks up a habit of buying flowers to soothe her every time he heads to his parent’s home for a meal. 

‘Pink carnations for your mother again?’ the florist asks brightly. 

Akaashi nods, insisting on paying for the baby’s breath she adds to the bouquet. The florist lets him when he assures her he’s no longer a starving university student, and pulls her gloves off to rifle in her drawer for change. 

‘Here you go!’, she chirps, holding out a tray with his change. His gaze is drawn to the pink burn scars streaked across her hands, and flushes when she meets his curious eyes with a knowing look. 

‘Sorry, I - uh didn’t mean to stare’, he begins to splutter, but she waves it off. 

‘It’s fine. I got them a long time ago’, she replies, a wistful smile twisting her lips, tugging her sleeves down to her wrist. 

He bows and takes his leave. He doesn’t spare a second thought on the encounter when he reaches his parent’s house, his mother exclaiming over the little bouquet.

The table shakes when his colleague slumps into his seat, sighing deeply. 

‘Did your boss get on your case for typos again?’ Akaashi asks, his spoon pausing on the way to his mouth. 

‘Worse’, his colleague groans. ‘He’s sending me to Hokkaido for next month’s feature on crimes that shocked the nation, and I have to travel all the way up the mountains to some dinky little town without a train station.

‘Hm’. Akaashi raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. ‘What’s the feature about?’ 

‘See for yourself’. His colleague dramatically slides his folder of articles across the table, bumping it into Akaashi’s plate. 

He thumbs through the folder. Nakamura Yakeru, the mayor of a small mountain town in Hokkaido, found guilty on a multitude of charges - breaking and entering, causing arson by fire, assault and attempted murder of a schoolgirl, her identity redacted. It’s shocking in and of itself - but there’s something awfully familiar about the man’s face. 

He smooths out the creases in the paper, bringing the newspaper clipping closer to his face, and oh - 

He knows that face. 

His mind echoes with the memories of flinching at the sight of Nakamura’s teeth, yellowed from nicotine and bared in a smirk, the acrid stench of cigarettes lingering on his shirt, cursing whenever that inconsiderate bastard left sparks smouldering in dry grass. But it doesn’t make sense - there’s no reason for him to have ever met the man. He’s never been farther north than Sapporo, a born and bred Tokyo city boy after all. And he doesn’t recall seeing the man’s face on the news either when the crime was committed. 

So why would his dreams feature this man? 

‘Akaashi?’ he hears his colleague call his name, but his voice can barely be heard over the pounding of his heart in his ears. ‘You’ve gone really white, is everything ok?’ 

‘I’m fine’, he replies, hastily shoving the article back in the folder. ‘Everything’s fine.’ 

His colleague doesn’t look like he believes him. Frankly, Akaashi doesn’t believe himself either. 

Try as he might, he can’t get the eerie coincidence out of his mind. And after a few restless nights, he finds himself back in his childhood bedroom, holding the old omamori in his hands. It’s just an inanimate scrap of cotton fabric, but he’s tempted to borrow his mother’s sewing kit to pick its stitches apart, to discover the secrets woven into its threads. 

It feels silly being so superstitious, but he can’t help feeling that he’s on the verge of discovering what his strange dreams have been trying to show him - so he tucks the omamori under his pillow, his thumbnail catching on a stray thread, before he surrenders himself to his dreams. 

‘Akaashi Keiji’, a cool voice pronounces his name with faint amusement. ‘Back to change the terms of our bargain? ’

His eyes fly open. 

This time he’s on familiar ground, kneeling on the twenty sixth step of the shrine he visits with his parents for  Hatsumode, the other twenty five steps below him shrouded in mist. But the woman standing before him is not familiar to him - in fact, she’s clearly not even human, not with her red eyes and pale lips, not with the wisteria trailing from her hair and disappearing into her skin. 

That should scare him, but it doesn’t because he can’t discern any malice in her eyes, and the scent of the wisteria is soothingly sweet. 

So his curiosity wins out over his sense of caution, and he asks politely - ‘I’m sorry, who are you exactly? And, um. What bargain are you referring to? ’

Her eyes gleam. ‘I’m offended. Don’t you recognise the guardian of the shrine you’ve been praying at your whole life? And as for the bargain you’ve made with me - I thought you already figured it all out by yourself, little boy.’ Laughing airily, she crouches over him, a wooden plaque dangling from her finger. ‘Remember this?’

He reads the words etched on the plaque.  ‘I wish I could have more time. I wish for yesterday to come again.’ Then he glances up at the shrine deity sharply. ‘I remember that from my dreams. Does this mean they’re real?’  

‘What do you think?’ Her lips stretch into a grin. 

‘Logic would suggest that they aren’t. It shouldn’t be possible to swap bodies, let alone with someone I’ve never met in my life. And yet…’ 

‘And yet?’ she prompts, tilting his head towards her with the nail of her finger.

‘It’s too much of a coincidence to ignore the fact that I know Nakamura Yakeru from my dreams, so that suggests at least some semblance of it is real.’ He looks at her pleadingly. ‘Are you here to help me?’ 

She laughs again, the sound ethereal like the flutter of butterfly wings. The sleeves of her purple kimono slide down her wrists, the scent of wisteria enveloping him growing sickly sweet. ‘Help you? Well, since you asked so nicely, little boy, I guess there’s no harm telling you your dreams are real. I granted your wish on a whim, and look how amusing you’ve been!’

Oh gods his dreams are real. They’re real. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, they’re real.  

Akaashi feels his stomach churn. He inhales a shaky breath. 

That means she’s real, doesn't it?

He thinks about the salaciously titled newspaper articles, the violence implied in its words. He thinks about the innocence in her impulses, the whimsicalness of her thoughts. He feels ill at the thought of someone deliberately trying to extinguish her. 

‘What happens in the end ?’ he asks, blood surging to his head, slamming his palms flat on the ground for support. ‘What happens to her?’

Sunlight pierces through the fog, and the wisteria spirit starts to fade before his very eyes. 

‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’, her voice echoes.  ‘You’ll find all the answers you’re looking for at the shrine in the forest. You know the way there - you’ve been there a thousand times, both in real life and in your dreams.’

He gasps as he jolts awake, hands clenching his sheets. 

He’s in his bed in his apartment. Everything is exactly as it was before he went to sleep. 

Well - everything except the scent of wisteria lingering in the air.

Udai-sensei’s eyes bug out from its sockets when Akaashi tells him he’s off to Hokkaido for an impromptu holiday. 

‘You aren’t burnt out, are you? Is it me? Is it the deadlines? Don’t quit on me - there’s no way another editor can provide the same input on my new volleyball manga like you!’ he begs, sounding dangerously close to tears. 

Akaashi sighs, muttering under his breath about ‘ highly strung mangakas’  but manages to reassure Udai that no, he’s not quitting, he’s just taking a four day break. He thought it’d be nice to visit the flower fields during summer in Hokkaido, and he has an old friend in those parts he might pay a visit to.  

So he puts himself on a short flight to Sapporo, and a painfully long bus ride further north into the mountains, arriving at the rural village he’s traversed countless times in his dreams. He drags his luggage past the high school, the  crunch  of wheels on gravel slowly knocking loose memories of bones aching, flesh bruising, from tumbles down the stairs, from falls off drain pipes, from predestined losses against cement floors. 

He exhales through his nose when he walks past the florist’s shop. It’s a hollow shell of bare concrete and cardboard shutters, a gap where the signboard should be on the shopfront, a stark contrast to the bustling bakery and  combini  it’s sandwiched between. Thank the gods, he mutters, the blaze of hurt and desperation in Hana-chan’s eyes haunting his mind. 

The only inn in the town is serviceable enough, though he’s looked at in askance by the innkeeper when he admits he’s an editor for a publishing company. ‘Another gossip hound ’, the old lady mutters resentfully, and Akaashi has to do damage control lest she assign him the dampest room in the establishment and assure her that he’s no journalist, just a flower enthusiast interested in the lavender blooming in the fields. He charms her enough with his politeness that by the time he checks into his room, she offers him free use of a bicycle to explore the town, and he takes her up on her offer once he drops off his bags in his room. 

The summer sun is starting its descent from the sky as he cycles past familiar dirt paths lined with trees, the anticipation in his blood thrumming as he passes sprawling farms he’s sure he’s eaten stolen eggs from, passes the gas station  she  bragged about stealing petrol from. The rush of blood to his head hits a roaring crescendo when he reaches the edge of the woods. 

Leaning the bicycle against a fallen tree, he sets off to the very heart of the forest, his feet seeming to recognise a path his eyes cannot see. The deeper into the forest he ventures into, the thicker the branches overhead seem to grow, leaves interwoven into a net that blocks the sun. 

The wind ripples over his skin. The trees seem to whisper out to him. 

Okaeri, he hears. Welcome home, the Kodama spirits murmur over the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Sunlight from the setting sun spills into a clearing just ahead, and though he’s almost blinded by the sudden flash of light, he can make out the outline of a shrine, situated dead center of the clearing and breaks into a run.  There it is , he thinks, dropping to his knees, hands trembling as he brushes fallen branches and leaves off the shrine, deaf to the growing whispers from the trees surrounding him. 

‘Please grant me your secrets’, he breathes, eyes closed in prayer. 

He can feel a pulse in the ground, a sudden shift in the air. Wisteria blooms from the soft earth in his heart. 

Oh. 

Oh gods. 

He remembers. 

Taglist: 

@forgetou @animeflower26​ @kageyamakock @underrated-fruit-tarts-official @bongofrito​

[an-apocalypse-of-magpies]

Asterix and the Legacy of the Original Authors

So I finally saw Asterix and the Secret of the Magic Potion (2018). Significantly, this is the first Asterix story I’ve experienced since the retirement of Albert Uderzo, the original co-creator of the characters and creative lead follower the death of Rene Goscinny.

And it was brilliant.

The plot, simply summarised, is that Getafix (Panoramix in the original French), venerable and wise village druid, slips and falls out of a tree for the first time in his long career. He begins to worry that he’s getting too old for this (indeed, Getafix’s age has always been ambiguous, but he’s easily the oldest recurring character after the appropiately named Geriatrix/Agecanonix, who’s certainly over 80), and that he needs to find a successor, not least of which because only he knows the formula for his legendary magic potion that gives the Gauls the super strength needed to hold off the Roman invasion (the film makes a running joke that druids never write things down). While on the search, an old rival of Getafix’s, Sulfurix (dubbed Demonix in the Canadian English dub, in case it wasn’t clear that he’s evil) is desperately trying to steal the formula, seeking to liberate the Gaulish lands from the Romans and not merely one village. Along with Asterix, Obelix and tagalong kid Pectin(/e), the heroes must find a successor, but is there a Gaulish druid worthy of this most sacred knowledge?

The animation is excellent, as it was in the previous animated outing Asterix and the Mansions of the Gods (2014), really capturing the look and feel of the comic albums. I feel like too much cartoon media these days is afraid to really exploit squash-and-stretch for expressive and dynamic purposes, and with Asterix’s trademark slapstick being Roman soldiers clobbered so hard their torsos sail off into the air before their feet have entirely realised what happened, it was necessary for this. The film is bright and crisp, and the light effects suitably dramatic (and with many a magical zip and zap, it’s crucial to have good lighting).

The story has many of the familiar beats. Alexandre Astier is clearly playing it a little bit safe, but considering he’s writing his own Asterix story, it’s safer to stick with that than to try and push it too far and risk alienating the audience. A crisis emerges, Asterix and Obelix and miscellaneous tagalongs leave the village, shenanigans happen, Asterix and Obelix have a falling out and become separated temporarily, there’s an ominous moment when the magic potion runs out, Romans attack the village, everyone gets back in time to save the day, Romans get punched a bit, big feast under the stars. What I liked, though, is how this story tried to do something interesting with the side characters. While Getafix is a very important character for the story, he rarely gets involved in the actual plot, so it’s nice to see more of him and in particular his character flaws - namely his stubbornness and attempts to do everything himself, even to the detriment of those around him. Even being confined to a primitive wheelchair for a lot of the film due to an injured ankle doesn’t stop him from taking a part, and it’s nice to see more of him than merely ‘wise wizardly old man, keeps calm and lectures people’. Unhygenix the fishmonger (Ordralfabetix) gets an amusing background arc where he believes that he could be Getafix’s successor and tries dabbling with druidcraft in the background, with amusing results. For once, his role isn’t just ‘gets in a fight with Fulliautomatix the blacksmith (Cetautomatix)’, and we get to see that he’s an interesting combination of surprisingly intelligent and thick as two short rocks. Fulliautomatix himself gets to have some humorous musing at his alchemical antics, and at one point the requisite Unhygenix/Fulliautomatix fight is successfully quelled, with Fulliautomatix admitting that he has a short temper and that this was unnecessary aggression on his part. Vitalstatistix (Abraracourcix) leads the village men (apart from the perennially unpopular bard Cacofonix (Assurancetourix)) to accompany Getafix halfway through, leaving the womenfolk to defend the village with a backup supply of potion. Happily, this means we also get to see more of the village women - headed up by Impedimenta (Bonnemine), Mrs Geriatrix (Geriatrix’s unnamed but incredibly young wife) and Bacteria (Ielosubmarine) - than just ‘being someone’s wife’ - Impedimenta plays a vital role in corralling the women for war and appears to be keeper of the potion reserves, while the others get more speaking roles and are able to participate in fights. It’s not much, but in a world of Gaulish men, the women tend to fall by the wayside unless they get to be a sex symbol or someone’s harridan wife. Cacofonix himself gets to play at being a chief, where his cowardly nature makes for an amusing contrast Impedimenta’s more no-nonsense practicality. We also get to see some of the Gaulish children for once! They make fun of their elders and play around with stolen Roman warrior stuff. When the going gets tough, though, the first thing the village defence team do is make sure the kids get somewhere safe, and Cacofonix gets a slightly tender moment where he tries to assure them that he’s going to be okay ... with a long winded speech rather than just getting on with it.

The real star of the film (well, alongside Asterix, Obelix and Getafix) is Pectin. Pectin is a scrappy little girl from the village who’s into inventing and engineering, and her establishing scene is ignoring the other kids playfighting so that she can finishing what seems to bee some kind of automatic watering machine. She’s smart, creative, appropriately afraid of the dangers that crop up but wants to do right by Getafix, whose wisdom she deeply admires. It’s fairly clear even from the outset what her role will be. Eventually, in the darkest moments, Getafix teaches Pectin the secret recipe - including Getafix’s secret ingredient - in order to save the village. She assures Getafix later that she will try to forget the recipe, so that she won’t accidentally reveal it to the wrong sort, but just as the credits roll, Getafix muses what we’re all thinking - that this girl might be worthy to be his successor. Pectin’s important because of the series’ ... shaky history with feminism. The film sets out that only men can become druids, and women are even forbidden from the woods where they meet. When taking Getafix to the meet, Pectin has to wear a hood and hike her dress up to look more like a boy appropriately. To allow Pectin to become a druid would defy ... well, some lofty ideal that only men can become druids. Like so many old sexist tropes, the reason has become ‘... well, they just don’t’. So it’s good that this is addressing that, as well as forcing more female characters into the limelight. The most prominent female character in all of Asterix is Impedimenta, followed maybe by the heartthrob and Obelix’s crush Panacea. I’ve elaborated above the problems there. In Asterix classic, women are to be desired or to be overbearing wives to henpecked husbands. It’s likely that Goscinny and Uderzo meant no malice by this writing; they were two French men writing a humour comic, and played on the popular tropes accordingly. But they (or rather, Uderzo) did attempt to tackle feminism in this comic before. It was ... well, it was a bit clunky.

Asterix and the Secret Weapon (1991) was a rather dated and fearmonger-y take on feminism, having a feminist activist outsider called Bravura comes to the village, encourages the women to rise up against their husbands (the men, out of chivalry and hen-peckedness, do not resist), seizing control of the village. Asterix, being both a bachelor and bit of a firebrand at perceived injustice, confronts Bravura, whereupon she flirts with him to try and seduce him into marrying her, whereupon he (shock horror) strikes her out of reflex. But Gaulish men do not hit women! Asterix is banished to the nearby forest for his insolence, eventually joined by the other men, fed up with the overbearing women. When the Romans (knowing that Gaulish men will not attack a women) send a detachment of female soldiers to the village, the women have turned it into a primitive shopping centre, where the female soldiers can shop and get their hair and make up done and forget all about attacking the village. Yeah. Feminists are salacious witches who would enthrall men and subjugate them, women love nothing more than shopping and beauty, it’s ... it’s bad. Secrot of the Magic Potion at least attempts to fix this by questioning male dominance in a role without being so weird about it, and having the women be just as much proud, organised village defenders as the men, arguably more so, given they lacked the weapons or numbers they normally had with the men around. (I know that the most recent album, Asterix and the Chieftain’s Daughter (2019), kinda deals with this too, but I haven’t yet read that one)

Putting aside the feminist rant, the key theme of this film seems to be the passing of the torch, clinging to past glory, and stepping up to take responsibility. Getafix isn’t getting any younger, and as much as might hurt his pride, he needs to train someone to take his place. The other elder druids, it transpires, are foolish, complacent and irresponsible, getting too used to just messing around and partying. They’re getting senile too, shamefully admitting to keeping crib sheets to remember which apprentice druids are any good. Druids not writing things down seems to be a metaphor for old masters, well versed in their craft, who know it all so well that they don’t need notes ... and then struggle to teach others, so they keep doing it all themselves. Sulfurix is bitter that, despite his magic fire being useful, Getafix is held up as the better druid. Way back when, they were finallists in a druidcraft competition, and being able to conjure flame from nothing is certainly a useful talent that won out over Getafix’s useless but dramatic and very complex magic. Getafix is implied never to have held a grudge over this, especially given that he would eventually develop the magic potion that makes his people so formidable. Sulfurix, meanwhile, found his ‘useful’ parlour trick get weaker and less reliable over time, and he seems to have very few tricks under his belt by the present, so fixated was he on this one thing. His Villain Rant at Getafix at the end is pure projection - he’s become irrelevant, because his one thing became all he was known for. Finally, with Cacofonix being acting Chief, the women defending the village, and Cholerix (Teleferix) the apprentice druid and later Pectin striving to create the magic potion and fill Getafix’s footsteps, there is a theme of people, even wildly unprepared people, stepping up to take responsibility because it’s what needs to be done, be it for the sake of a legacy or simply because this operation won’t run itself. Such a theme rings loud in, I remind you, the first original Asterix story on film since the death or retirement of both of the original creators. They’re on their own now, with a great and beloved legacy to continue, and I think they’ve done a wonderful job. The film was not perfect by any means - the English dub lip-flaps weren’t that well aligned (my DVD didn’t have French language options), the story’s quite formulaic if you’re a fan of the series, and Sulfurix is ... not subtle as the villain - but if you like Asterix, you’ll like this. And if you don’t care for Asterix, it’s still enjoyable.

[somepinkthing]

Is edelgard a racist and/or xenophobic? Yeah definitely a little bit. But you gotta frame it in the context that about 90% of the characters we meet are too. Tbh I wasn't aware people really focused in on this aspect of her character until recently. I am not denying or dismissing it, it's an important theme, but for edelgard it's more in the peripherals of her story arc. However, the fact that it exists so casually perhaps makes a point in and of itself

Fodlan is isolationist. It has been isolationist for as long as its people can remember. That has created a mindset that is very distinct amongst people born and raised there. Them vs us. If you are not for us, you are other. Something else. Unacceptably different. That logic applies to broad political topics such as race and to more personal issues as well. That’s the norm of fodlan. Edelgard is not immune to racism; very few in the cast are. We see it in lorenz with his blatant distaste of outsiders. We see it in ingrid with her assumption that people who are different are the enemy, guilty without any proof and guilty to each and every person. We even see it in people like hilda and sylvain, who harbor no ill will but simply don’t think too hard about their actions or attitudes towards sreng or almyra. We see it in how people treat petra like an interesting commodity, dedue like a danger to society, cyril like mud beneath their shoes, and claude like a violent interloper. This is the environment edelgard fits into. That’s not an excuse by any means, but it does provide a certain context for the scale of the issue. The problem isn’t that it’s rare, the problem is that it’s the norm. Xenophobia is so ingrained that even people that might be decent otherwise don’t see the system as wrong

Now, if we are comparing, amongst the lords edelgard is definitely the most ignorant of this issue and, arguably, might not always pay problems outside of the crest system the attention they deserve. On this front especially, she can’t compare to dimitri who has seen the aftereffects of such hatred firsthand. And neither of them will ever know how it is for claude to live it every day of his life. Edelgard is more or less on par with hilda or sylvain. She holds no malice towards people from outside of fodlan and is open to seeing them as allies and friends. She’s even willing to consider opening peace talks with almyra. It's not that she's entirely intolerant, it's that she just doesn’t think too hard about her learned biases and her own position of power. The best example of this? Petra and claude

Edelgard treats petra like a friend and equal but, at no point, does she ever really seek to understand petra’s situation. In her letter to petra before the timeskip, she reminds petra so easily that Brigid is under imperial rule and, in the same breath, tells petra to make her own way and choose for herself. That's where the disconnect comes into play. Edelgard likely meant every word she wrote but given their situations? It’s disrespectful at best and a threat at worst. Edelgard never asked petra what her opinions of the empire are, about her situation, about her aspirations except to compare them to her own, or about brigid at all. Again, their interactions held no malice but it also lacked consideration. It's not that edelgard was being cruel but she didn't understand nor did she think to ask

Then there’s her words to claude in verdant wind and to byleth her paralogue. The irony of criticizing almyra for its invasion when she invaded another sovereign state just last month is not lost on me. And her words to claude in verdant wind? Honestly even if she had never said anything out loud, her attitude towards claude throughout the game more than spoke to her mindset on that front. But I think people latch onto it too much as a sign that edelgard is extraordinarily racist while I feel she was meant to represent a norm in those moments. “You can’t possibly be good for fodlan you weren't raised here,” is an unfair assessment which implies a lot of untrue things about immigrants, but comparatively? Edelgard’s opinion is downright tame and it's entirely possible that she even didn't understand that this is discrimination. I'm aware that claude spent at least seven years intensely studying fodlan's history, customs, and people and that he's more than proven himself as a leader—I'm not saying edelgard's right, don't misunderstand. I'm saying that the takeaway isn't that edelgard is singular in this. Rather, this opinion is fodlan's norm. The point is that even edelgard, who preeches against allowing one's birth to determine their future, would accuse claude of being unfit for a role simply for being born elsewhere and see nothing odd. In her mind, there's no reason keeping an "outsider" out of leadership roles should contradict her ideals. This scene exists to showcase how deeply intolerance is ingrained into all of fodlan's people, not to imply that edelgard is the outlier

Now, there is ofc one other thing that can’t be overlooked when talking about this topic: edelgard’s view of the nabateans. A million things can be said about that. Perhaps the agarthans whispered lies to her that she believed. Perhaps her hatred for rhea blinded her. We know for a fact she at least never knew the whole story. Whatever the reason, edelgard undeniably views nabateans as Other. They are not human, not like us. She heavily implies that they do not deserve to participate in fodlan’s future in part because of rhea’s mistakes, but also in part because they are not human. That they've lived on this earth just as long as the current human race has doesn’t seem to occur to her, only their relation to rhea. And yeah rhea had no right to use the people's faith the way she did and someone should say it, but we know for a fact that rhea isn't the only nabatean. Of the ones we know, only three have anything to do with the church! To decide that all the nabateans are overlords based soley off rhea is... something

The way I see it, edelgard's questionable takes on the nabateans are as likely to be due to xenophobia as it is a mixture of her being understandably angry, her relationship with rhea, the empire's history, and TWSITD's influence on her. However, whatever the case, there's no denying that it's messed up for edelgard to view an entire group of people this way and I know some people don't like CF partially because of this—and that's fair! To me though, it’s another aspect of her character that plays well into her backstory and all-or-nothing viewpoints. As for the rest of it though? If you dislike her for buying into fodlan’s crap about outsiders that’s definitely fair too, but don’t forget that her degree of ignorance is hardly the exception. It is very much the norm and, yes, that statement probably includes some (or a lot) of your faves

[prismatales]

Late Bloomer: Faltering (Part 1)

Word Count: 3.3K

Bingo slot: Free

Pairings: None

Tag/Warnings: Slight angst.

Synopsis: Sometimes, life throws some unexpected circumstances that can bring doubts.

Here's Part 2 of Late bloomer!

Unfortunately, as much as I would've loved to make this chapter longer in order to introduce Dabi at once, I've been struggling with some heavy writer's block and burnout for these past weeks, but when I said part 2 would be out this week it was a promise, hopefully you guys will enjoy it!

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Isn’t it strange that the most gentle of hearts belong to all the souls on fire?

-Michelle Schaper

“That will be all for today’s lessons. Make sure to enjoy your break, everyone!” Midnight exclaimed, a cheerful smile on her face while all her students were busy packing their stuff, eager to leave and prepare everything they needed for the school break. If luck was on your side, maybe you would be able to plan something out with your siblings once Shouto came back from the training camp. 

“Todoroki. Before you leave, principal Nezu would like to speak with you.”...Or maybe not.

“...Is this about what happened during the exam?” you couldn’t help asking the teacher, nervous about the idea of being in trouble for the little stunt that occurred during your exam. But that couldn’t be the reason the principal was calling, right?

“He just told me to send you to his office. But if this helps out, I think your father was there too.”

“…Of course he is.” You had to hold back the urge to groan in front of the teacher. Blood already warming up just by the mention of your father of all people being in the principal’s office, if this was another attempt to make you switch classes, you’d be having none of it. 

“Did you put confetti in Bakugo’s gauntlets again?” Ren and Hatsume approached you after class, both of them snickered when they remembered the look on the blond’s face as he chased you around the school like a wild beast. The attempt to muffle the laughter failed miserably by the reminder.

“Nope. But if my dear old man’s there, I know what this is about. Anyway, see you next Monday, guys!” They both waved cheerfully before walking away, their figures became smaller and smaller with each step taken until eventually they could no longer be recognized from afar. 

As soon as you began heading towards the principal’s office, a small knot began growing into the pit of your stomach from the nerves. Once you finally stood in front of the door, the first thing you did was knock twice, staying put before the principal’s voice called out through the other side. “Come in!” 

The door was slightly pushed, just enough to peek inside the office. Just as Midnight said, principal Nezu was sitting on his chair and your beloved father was standing nearby with arms crossed. Both of them turned to look in your direction before the principal welcomed you with his characteristic smile.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You ask out of formality, partially nervous about the attention. 

“Yes, please come take a seat!” He didn’t move from his spot, and neither did your father as they both watched you step inside the office and advance forwards before stopping in front of the principal’s desk. Quietly, you pulled a chair in order to sit down, effortlessly ignoring your father’s presence as subtly as possible.

“There’s something we’d like to discuss with you. It’s not about the exam if that’s what you’re worried about.” You couldn’t help placing a hand over your chest, exhaling in relief with eyes closed. Endeavor’s stare could almost dig a hole at the back of your skull from that reaction, but he’s ignored in favor of looking at the principal. “It’s about your quirk...It’s already been a few weeks after the sports festival, but it appears you’re still having some difficulties controlling it...don’t you?” 

For someone who had as much authority as him, the principal’s question didn’t hold a single speck of malice or mockery behind it, almost sounded like he’s talking to a small child. Which made the situation way more uncomfortable in your eyes, because not only was he mentioning a fact you’ve been trying to so hard to hide, but he was also mentioning all of this in front of the last person you’d want to find out.

Insecurity grew deep inside as you looked down, avoiding eye contact with both males for as long as possible, gripping the fabric of your skirt with a firm grip that dug your nails painfully harsh into the flesh of your thighs.

“The principal’s asking you a question.” Just hearing your father’s voice was enough to make your blood feel like it was boiling, if any of them were able to see under the bangs hiding your face from view they would’ve seen a pair of glowing eyes. Nobody was supposed to know about the lack of control you’ve been struggling with for the past weeks, but it seems that it was more obvious than you thought.

When you looked back at the principal with doubtful eyes, they were no longer filled with that golden light that had already vanished. Hesitating, you finally answered the question.

“Yes, sir…”

“And you didn’t tell anyone this, because?”

“Because, I thought it would be something temporary...and eventually, I would be able to control it on my own.” He observed you with unpredictable eyes, pondering for a moment.

“That’s understandable,” he gave a slight nod with eyes closed “but you have to consider that as a school, it’s our responsibility to help the students grow and this includes helping them learn to control their quirks. There’s also another factor to consider…” 

This time he looked at you straight in the eye. “Remember what happened during the sports festival?” How could you ever forget it? The day your quirk manifested will forever be branded into your memories. “As harsh as this may sound, we’re concerned that this difficulty may end up with something similar happening in the future. Please don’t take it personally.”

It’s understandable that the principal worried about the risk of somebody getting hurt. And yet that didn’t soothe the ache growing inside you. Distracted by these thoughts, you didn’t pay attention to the rest of the conversation between the principal and your father. 

“My suggestion would be for her to attend the training camp alongside the hero department, the training could be a perfect opportunity to learn to control her quirk.” The principal turned his attention back towards you “While it’s not our place to make this kind of decision on a student’s behalf, this is a special case. I hope you understand our reasons, Todoroki-san.”

Nodding silently, your lips were pressed into a thin line in resignation over the school’s decision. But when you thought about it through the adult’s eyes, they were right. It could be dangerous to lose control and potentially getting someone hurt because you decided to be stubborn and handle this on your own.

But who could blame you when that’s pretty much how you grew up? Becoming independent at such a young age in order to lessen the burden on your sibling’s lives. 

“Well then, it’s decided. Look at the bright side, at least your brother will be there as well!” Nezu made an attempt to light up the situation, and you appreciated it. Kind of ironic how someone that’s not even related to you is doing more than your own father. who somehow, had such a feeling of pride radiating from him that if it wasn’t for who was in the room as well, you would have smacked him right in the face with your belt.

After the final arrangements were done, you and your father walked out of the principal’s office, but unlike him, the look on your face was so very sour that it could make a lemon taste sweeter than honey.

You didn’t have the chance to say anything to the man walking in front of you, since he began talking first.

“Before you accuse me of talking the principal into this. They were the ones who called concerning this situation.” He wouldn’t even turn around and it made you feel even more bitter than before, realizing you were the only one to blame for this.

“I do not care if you had anything to do with it. It’s obvious this is just an excuse to try moving me into the hero department.” In an angry fit, you stopped and glared at his back “I said this before and I’ll say it again; Nothing you can do will change my mind, camp or not, I’m staying in the support class!”

Unfortunately for you, that small fit of rage was enough for the ends of your hair to light up, right at the same time he turned to give you a look. “Focus on getting control over that power and then you can say that again with your head held high.”

With fists clenched into a fist, you just marched away with a huff. As much as you’d love to give him a piece of your mind, it was time to prepare everything for the trip.

A few days later, you stood near everyone from class 1-A, getting on the bus that would take everyone to the training camp. At least Shouto’s classmates were kind enough not to make you feel like an outcast, and it really helped out that you already met them before. After they saw you talking with your brother about his new costume and making fun of the first one, much to his embarrassment.

“Can I ask you something?” Shouto asked quietly from beside you, trying to avoid catching the other’s attention.

“Mhm.” You looked up from the screen of your phone, where a meme was displayed, courtesy of Mina who had quickly added your phone number into the group chat.

“You were doing so well the first time we trained together...so what happened?” He noticed the way your hand clenched around the device harshly, with a little more strength the screen would’ve almost cracked.

Nervously, you turned away from him with a nervous look all over your features but still managed to smile softly at him despite everything going through your head at that moment.

“I’d rather not talk about it...please?” The small plead caught him off guard, but Shouto still respected your wish...

The bus finally stopped in the middle of nowhere, it gave everyone the chance to walk out and stretch their bodies after sitting inside such a cramped seat for hours. 

And then, a pair of women showed up to greet everyone. Watching their costumes made your eyes light up in joy once you recognized the pair standing in front of everyone. But unlike Midoriya, you could only fangirl silently at the sight of the wild wild pussycats, or at least at the sight of the two that were talking in front of the whole class.

“I thought Hawks was your favorite?” your brother had to cough into his fist to hide the laughter when he saw the look on his twin’s face, that quickly turned into embarrassment when some of his classmates heard their banter.

“S-Shut up!” You shoved him by the shoulder at the same time your whole face got warm all the way down to the neck, it quickly began getting warmer the moment most of the girls overheard Shouto’s comment and gave you a teasing look. Now it would be impossible to live that down. “This is why Natsuo’s my favorite brother!”

That was the last thing you could tell him before the ground began moving underneath everyone’s feet, courtesy of pixie bob’s quirk. Everyone quickly tried to get back inside the bus to no avail, for all of you had been thrown into the forest. The last thing you heard from Mandalay was how those unable to reach the camp before noon would not be allowed to have lunch. 

While everyone fell down, some people noticed you quickly pulling your shirt open, and you could have sworn at least one of them yelled out panicked until they noticed a black tank top under the uniform. And also a familiar belt from the sports festival.

Quickly, two metallic claws sprung out from the back of the artifact, digging their way deep into the wall so they could slow down the impact. 

You were probably going to get an earful from Aizawa, but wearing this belt and the trusty bracelet over your right hand became a habit too hard to avoid, these ‘babies’ -yes, Hatsume had become quite an influence- were like a part of you, something you spent so much blood, sweat and tears developing from scratch.

Once your feet reached the floor again, the claws retreated back inside the belt. “Is everyone alright?!” You called out as the others dug their way out from the layers of dirt, luckily nobody had gotten injured during the fall and even if they had, it was a good thing there was a healer among them.

A thunderous roar could be heard, making you look at the direction where it came from, just to see this horrendous creature towering over the smallest guy from the group, what was his name? ah yes...Mineta.

After Koda tried using his quirk to calm down the creature, you realized they were not living creatures, most likely controlled by one of the pro-heroes supervising the school trip.

As soon as Midoriya managed to rescue his classmate and get rid of the first creature, another three appeared right after. This race against time was going to be harder than everyone thought. So might as well hurry up and lend everyone a hand.

“(Y/n)! behind you!” Turning around, you came face to face with another beast. Quickly, your hair began glowing with energy, growing until it reached the lower back and your arms became surrounded with a reddish aura, that somehow was acting differently than before, it started flickering wildly rather than flowing into smooth waves.

The beast lunged forwards, instantly being hit by an attack that ignited into flames as soon as it came in contact with it. Burning its whole body in a matter of seconds.

The more you kept running, the more of these creatures appeared and were taken care of just as fast. You had to admit it, everyone in the hero course was incredible in their own way.

It was strange using your quirk this long after spending so much time trying to avoid it. But if it meant no longer worrying about losing control, then you’d go through as much training as you had to endure.

Finally, after a long struggle in the forest, everyone managed to come out in one piece. But after using your quirk for so long, the only thing that didn’t hurt was your eyelashes. Every muscle in your body cried out in agony, exhausted, and begging for some rest, the same thing could be said about your irritated eyes.

“Arriving at noon my ass…” Nobody said a thing when you dropped face down on the floor, muttering a bizarre combination between nonsense and profanities. Too tired to pay attention to everything happening around you, like the moment poor Midoriya got punched in the crotch by Mandalay’s nephew, Kouta.

“Shouto, if you drag me inside I’ll treat you to the cafe for a whole month…”

“...Sorry, but you’re on your own.” 

“...You traitor.”

The meals were exquisite, every dish could almost be on pair with your sister’s cooking. And just as you expected, right before leaving for the hot springs, Aizawa made sure to confiscate your belt and any equipment you had left.

“All of it, Todoroki.” 

“...” 

With a defeated grumble, you took off the earrings as well before following after the girls.

The hot water felt heavenly against your sore body the more you sank down in the spring. If it could be possible, you’d stay underwater forever if it wasn’t for this little thing called ‘oxygen’. Swiftly your body rose up to the neck, leaning back against the edge of the spring between Jirou and Hagakure with a relaxed smile adorning your whole face.

“Ahhh, this feels so nice˜” your hands brushed some stray, damp locks away from your soaked face. The girl’s chatter was a pleasant noise in the background as every thought slipped away into nothing but a white noise inside your head.

“(y/n)?” Uraraka’s voice snapped you out from the little daze you fell in, when you turned to look at her it wasn’t only the brunette looking at you, but all of the girl’s attention was focused on you.

“Yes? What is it?” The grogginess in your voice and face was too funny to ignore, judging by their fits of giggles.

“How did you come up with the idea to make your equipment to subtle? It’s amazing!” Mina was the first one to speak, there was a glint of excitement in her eyes just thinking about the gadgets you used during the sports festival. In fact, all of them seemed interested in the subject, leaving you amazed by their reactions.

A huge smile appeared on your face upon realizing how fascinated they seemed about the equipment.

“Well, I know that sometimes equipment can make a difference for heroes, but it can also get in the way if it’s something too bulky or difficult to handle.” You explained to the small audience, not even aware that in the middle of the explanation, your hands wouldn’t stop moving all over the place as you spoke with enthusiasm.

Or how small ambers of gold began escaping through the corners of your eyes the more ecstatic you became during the explanation.

“So I thought of creating something that could be both subtle and practical at the same time, like-” 

“Ummm, (y/n)? Your quirk is going off again?” Jirou’s voice had a hint of concern, that made the words die instantly at the back of your throat when you looked at the reflection in the water and in fact, the glow in your eyes just kept growing.

They kept watching in silence, worried as you curled into a small ball at the edge of the spring, taking deep breaths that aided with the focus, until they specks of golden light finally disappeared.

“I…I’m sorry.” You couldn’t muster enough courage to look at any of them. Feeling ashamed of yourself, like a burden for everyone because you were unable to do something as simple.

“Wait, we didn’t mean it like that!” Looking up, you were met with many pairs of worried gazes that reminded you of the day everyone at school found out there was more than one Todoroki at U.A. but at the same time, it was a complete contrast as well.

Because these people were genuinely worried about you.

“Please don’t think you’re being a burden to anyone here, (y/n)“ Momo approached your curled self in an attempt to be reassuring. As a matter of fact, everyone else was doing her best to help out. “Besides that’s why you’re here with us. And if there’s anything we can do to help, we will!” 

Everyone else nodded and you’d be lying if you’d say their actions didn’t make something warm stir deep inside. It was...nice to know that including your friends in class, there were more people out there trying to help out.

With a grateful smile, you looked at every single one of the girls sitting around the spring “Thank you, guys….”

Soon you were all engaged into some playful chatter, from stuff like school, trying to get better grades on a certain subject -which you and Momo eagerly offered to help with- to being curious about tomorrow’s training….and other things as well…

In the midst of all the chatter, you were able to hear some commotion from the boy’s side of the baths. It was pretty vague, but Iida’s screams of “Restrain yourself!” were easily a hint of the chaos about to unfold.

And then Kouta’s small figure appeared at the top of the wall that faced the guy’s side of the baths.

“Learn what it means to be a dignified human being before aiming to become a hero.” The little boy spoke with such indifference as he pushed Mineta away.

“Do you guys deal with that every day?” You had to ask, and when more than one girl nodded their response left you perplexed enough to sink back into the warm water.

“Some week this is gonna be.”

You had no idea just how hard the following days would really be...

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