#it means that ultimate status/the expectations of it all have begun to get to him and change how he views it

[makotonaegiunderstander]

going to tear my room apart thinking about how Makoto Naegi genuinely is a normal guy. Even more so in the games where he doesn’t quite have the same explosion he does in the anime adaption— he made up his mind before the trial even started that he wasn’t going to give up no matter what happened to him because his friends had given their last trying to live, and he had to survive for them. He didn’t see surviving but choosing despair as surviving, he wanted to do what they entered the room prepared to do, he wanted to fulfill the declaration he made when he survived his execution: as long as he was alive, as long as he was breathing, he wasn’t going to give up. He saw Junko, he saw everything she presented, and he’d already felt that utter despair. He had the chance to give in as early as Mukuro’s first trial, where he could have chosen to suspect Kirigiri. But he refused to be manipulated anymore, he refused to play the game, even if it meant everything he had, and that’s where he changed from hiding to fighting. When he made the decision to hide Kirigiri’s lie (he did NOT know he was going to die, actually!!! He thought they’d be able to work out the trap bc there was never a time limit before that trial!! That said it’s still incredible that he refused to break even when he realized it would cost him his life.) that was when he broke from his fear completely. That was when he officially bowed out of the game. He wouldn’t be subject to the game’s demands anymore, he was going to win no matter what. He chose to have reckless faith in his friends no matter what, he chose to pursue a truth that would end the game for good. It’s not entirely normal for anyone to do, for sure, but that doesn’t mean he was the only one capable. I’ve said that before in a previous post, that Makoto didn’t do anything that was impossible for any other person. Just like despair was innate in every person and everyone was capable of it, so was hope. That’s what Makoto brought out. But even he stumbled. Even he needed his friends there. And the other survivors are the ones that took Makoto’s prompt and used it to break free of Junko’s influence, Makoto didn’t force them to. He didn’t brainwash them or manipulate them or do anything to influence their thoughts any more than reminding them hope was still there for them, that it wasn’t over yet. They did the rest themselves.

And then they left, and the title Ultimate Hope got away from them all, into a world ideologically influenced by Junko’s despair, and in its absence after her death, it latched into the next powerful force one to replace what it has lost, but it needed a figurehead. So Makoto was chosen, as the one that refused to submit in the face of Junko. He was viewed as an ultimate, elevated, the world placed on his shoulders, and the same wave that brought about the Tragedy turned towards Makoto. People may have needed something to hold onto that felt as powerful as what they’d been facing, but Makoto wasn’t the only one that fought, and he wasn’t possessing some inhuman ability to always resist despair or anguish. Makoto is both exceptional in his determination and stubbornness to keep moving forward and being optimistic, and also not in the slightest, because it isn’t a talent. It isn’t an ultimate ability, it isn’t something no one else can measure up to. His uniqueness comes from his ability to choose that even if he’s standing alone. But, like I said, he’s not immune, he’s not incapable of falling. He will just do everything in his power to resist up until the end, because that’s the decision he made.

It’s weird how he’s Schrödinger’s normal. He’s the most normal guy in the world, but his view of himself as such is also flawed. He isn’t nothing. In fact one could say it’s abnormal that he’s so normal. And he DOES have something that is unique about him, even he can’t deny that fact despite trying to downplay it. He’s optimistic. He’s chosen to try and be positive or at the very least choose to keep going forward in life. That IS abnormal to an extent, despite not being some ultimate, or something no one else is capable of. It is abnormal to never entertain the idea of slowing down, getting bored, or giving up. But at the same time, Makoto DID have moments like that in the game. The only time he really stopped doing that was in the final chapter, when he was pushed to his absolute limit and those parts of him exaggerated themselves so that he could feel like he could survive. He’s the weirdest normal guy alive, I guess.

Anyway I’m rambling and this probably doesn’t make sense bc I pulled an all nighter for the final class trial but I’m losing my mind over Makoto Naegi all the time

[rotshop]

UGHHH this is so bad. (head in hands) LOOK. look. im sleepy tired and i just needed to warm up w/ something and also took exactly One break during this to grab a dirnk !!! shhh.

-

This was by far the worst situation you could've been in. Nevadean winters were a simple fact of how it was, but that didn't take any of the bite from the freezing winds. Some years, it would be a decent one, there would be a fair amount of hot and cold days and little snow. Not entirely pleasant, but you could work with it with in relative ease. Other years though, the season seemed to just throw it all at you, shoving everything off the shelves and toppling dominoes to see how you'd fair. It was the cruelest whenever those years came about.

This though? This had to be a fucking joke.

The others had already been on edge about the mission, as you and your partner didn't exactly have the best relationship. There'd been several attempts to switch things around so that threat would be eliminated, but ultimately they'd proven fruitless. So, with great reluctance they went along with it, though Deimos had been particularly adamant on you all meeting back up as soon as possible. He'd been especially antsy and anxious as the mission had drawn ever closer, voicing the most concerns and posing the most questions to you. He wasn't the greatest at hiding his worries when it came to those he considered close, you admired that about him.

It was almost funny with how right he'd been to worry about it. Not only had there been far ore agents and mags than expected, there was also jack shit worth taking. Obviously, this had been some sort of trap in an attempt to catch you all off guard. It'd worked, evidently, just not in the way they'd probably expected. At some point or another, it was decided you all had to get out and go. Sanford was far too injured to continue on, 2b was too stressed to think straight, and you and Hank had the luck of getting trapped on the other side of base.

You didn't exactly feel too surprised when you'd been yanked up by the back of your shirt and thrown into the back of a truck, door slamming shut seconds after. You could see a hoard of agents and mags alike nearing closer, unable to tear your gaze away from them even as your partner got in the driver's seat. There was a bit of commotion from them, barking into the comms. about needing to get out and go. You were still too distracted even when they'd begun to speed off, and far too distracted to hear Deimos' confused shouting get cut.

You could tell it was coming, somewhere in between all the pre-existing stress and dread. It was like your own version of getting a headache shortly before it storms, except all it did was tell you you'd be royally fucked for the next day or few. It was always a little too hard for you to decipher exactly how long it would be, a little too fuzzy of a reading for you to say anything accurate on the matter. All you could tell was that it was coming soon, it wouldn't stop just for your less than friendly company.

-

Three days. You'd been stuck driving out here for three days now.

Originally, the plan was to drive off until the agents would give up, turn around, and go back to base to find the others. It'd started off easy enough, the agents chasing after you seeming to lose interest in the hunt after a good while, turning and leaving. You weren't sure why at the moment, but the action had shifted something uncomfortably in your chest. It just felt too easy, too convenient.

You'd soon figured it out when the storm had started to kick in. It didn't seem too bad at first, a minor inconvenience that drew a little grumble and a lean forward in their seat from your companion. Then, it'd worsened and worsened. By this point, neither of you knew where you were. Sure, the anti-aahw had been all over Nevada- but that was just of the Nevada they knew about. It wouldn't be far fetched to suggest you'd both gotten turned around and were now god knows where.

Eventually, it was decided there was no progress that could be made here. You'd both have to either hope for a place to stay or that the car wouldn't fair too uncomfortably. Which, considering the lack of space in it and you with far too little energy to get into an argument, the first would be the blessing of the two. It wasn't too long until your quiet prayers from the back seat had been answered, the faintest of outlines among the storm showing some form of shelter. You could already feel exhaustion settling in, far too quickly for your own comfort. By the time Hank had pulled over to walk in, he'd had to reach into the backseat and tug you by the collar of your shirt with an impatient noise, a gentle encouragement laced with the threat of dragging you out.

You were sure you couldn't have pulled your legs further to your chest than you already had. Your spine was already beginning to set with soon-to-be-aches and cramps as you curled into yourself. You'd attempted to keep yourself as taut as possible, not wanting to look as pathetic as you felt in that moment, half-shaking on the cold hard floor of some abandoned complex. Hank had gone off a while ago, leaving you in the lobby to go look for a room to stay in- a room for him to stay in.

You'd lost track of time, too focused on trying to keep it all together as your mind threatened to go blank and shut down. It was the worst when it was like this, where you could only lay and hope for exhaustion to kick you into sleep at one point or another. Your limbs all felt heavy with weight, uncomfortable with just how impossible it seemed to move them. Every part of your body felt locked up, stuck and stiff how it was when you'd dropped down to the floor. You were at least glad you'd fallen to face the door, able to see the snow falling from your position.

Sure, it was the cause of your current estrangement. Yes, it meant you were stuck with the man who hated your guts with a burning passion. Despite all that, it was still pretty. It was surreal to see the sky something other than a burning red, though that oddness was fully welcomed if it meant a break from that damned color.

You'd been snapped out of your daze by a light nudge to your back, you attempted to summon up a sound of acknowledgement- coming up with nothing. The lack of a response earned another, rougher nudge, shoving against your spine uncomfortably. You'd jumped away from the contact with a little mix of a whine and hiss, head jerking back to meet the eyes of your 'assailant.' Red lenses met your gaze, looming over you from your place on the ground.

"Get off the floor and come with me," it wasn't a request. He'd always been especially bossy with you, a little colder and more detached from you. It didn't take a genius to tell he was on less than stellar terms with you.

You didn't have time to stagger up onto your feet, a hand finding its way to the collar of your shirt to yank you up once more. The world spun around you in a haze as you stumbled forward, attempting to re-balance yourself as best as you could in the short breath you were given. Apparently, it hadn't worked well, you ending up crashing into Hank in the process. He'd barely stirred at the movement, still as a statue despite your disturbance. Distantly, you'd noticed how his hands had moved to your back, keeping you upright. You'd also noticed how they weren't a bruising grip on your form-

"....walk?"

You'd blinked. You had no clue what he'd even asked, did he ask anything in the first place? I mean, you could've totally just imagined it. Maybe you were just dreaming already, it happens sometimes..

"I don't ask questions just for you to not answer. Can you walk?"

You'd opened your mouth to speak, shutting it shortly after. Your tongue was like lead in your mouth and your voice seemed to have gone for a walk. You weren't going to play the chances of you not answering again. Instead, you'd simply given a little nod. He was..surprisingly warm, in all honesty. You found yourself leaning further into him, unconsciously nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

He seemed satisfied by the answer, giving a little grunt of acknowledgement before pulling away. You'd caught yourself before you'd fallen, sleep snapping from you momentarily again as reality came back. By the time you found some sort of feelings in your legs again, he was already down the hall, not waiting for you by any means. You were grateful for the little burst of energy that'd found you, stumbling after him quickly.

You were reaching for his arm before you could really even process it, holding onto him once more in a moment of unconscious indulgence. You missed the little curious glance he gave you, and the way he'd pulled his arm (and subsequently you) a little closer to him. Admittedly, you leaning onto him so much did force him to slow down a bit, much to his chagrin. He didn't make any comment about it though. You didn't either, happy to just stay close as you just barely stayed awake enough to continue walking with him.

-

The mattress felt far more comfortable than the floor.

"Better than laying on tile, isn't it?" Came the sarcastic question.

Nevermind, fuck this mattress.

You'd given a little hum, stirring a bit as you got comfortable. You were still curled up as small as you could, some sort of attempt to salvage what little heat you had. The thin fleece blankets didn't offer much relief from the elements, serving more as an empty pressure laying on you. Despite that though, it seemed you were given some mercy, as you were just edging into unconsciousness.

"I'll be in the next room over so don't be loud, alright?"

You'd nodded slowly. There was a pause. There was an abnormally long pause, to be exact. After a few breaths you could hear the clinking of metal and the shuffling of cloth. Curiously, you'd poked your head up, looking at the man over your shoulder in confusion. He'd met your gaze, pausing for the briefest of moments as he tugged his jacket off.

"What're you doin?..." you'd managed, words slurring together drearily.

He'd given a short 'tsk,' continuing his previous ministrations as he answered. "What I'm doing is making sure you don't go into some little coma on me, I'm not carrying your ass around if you pass out that hard. That's on you."

You'd given a little displeased hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly at him. He didn't react. Laying your head back down, you'd sighed in some sort of content, peaceful enough in the deteriorating room. You could feel yourself falling asleep, thought slipping from you as you finally found some sot of rest.

Just before you really fell unconscious though, you could feel the weight of a jacket being draped over you. You could've sworn you felt a hand settle on your arm for a moment, tracing a few shapes and lines idly before reluctantly pulling away. You were so sure you heard the faintest of 'Goodnight,'s before the door clicked shut. You could have just been hearing things or dreaming them up, though. You'd just have to ask him about it in the morning.

[sdr2lovemail]

I just noticed that you are alive again! So um.. I've been thinking for QUITE a while of a relationship Ultimate Impostor x Ultimate Leader (in the killing game ig?), idk why. If the requests are closed feel free to ignore this. Thank you!

You could say that I am a fan of Imposter's work. Even tho there is not a lot of content about them out there I still love them dearly.

And yes I died for a minute but have risen from the grave to continue my writing career. I hope you enjoy what I have written my friend because I absolutely love it.

⚔Mod Peko⚔

Spoilers for chapter 1

The Ultimate Imposter disguised as Byakuya Togami and the Ultimate Leader butt heads but also kinda wanna kiss each other

Teenagers and a killing game are bound to fall into chaos. Teenagers, a killing game, and no supervision will cause more chaos. That’s why they need a leader. Someone strong and brave to guide them. However two ultimates wanting to be that leader, teenagers, a killing game, and no supervision will cause even more chaos.

Breakfast was a usually calm time. Everyone just wanted to eat and get on with finding a way off this forced school trip. However there were some mornings where everyone seemed to be full of energy. Akane and Nekomaru were engaged in a fierce 1v1 training session. Chairs, tables, and food flying throughout the air from the power of their moves. The restaurant was in total disarray and with your talent of being a leader you must do something to calm the crowd. Standing up you set your arms behind your back and call out to your classmates.

“Everyone! This is-”

“Sit down, common folk. You will all cease this foolish behavior and stop wasting food.”

“Huh?”

At the mention of wasting food Akane quickly stops her fighting. She then pulls up a table and chair from the mess of the restaurant and begins to chow down. You look at where the voice came from and see Twogami sitting at a table with a plate. Just because this guy is loaded he thinks he can be a better leader than you? Oh you will just have a quick word with him to set the record straight. With quick strides you tap him on the shoulder giving him your best stern look. This look helped you strike the feeling of order into people. But Twogami doesn’t look impressed at all?! No you can’t let him see you falter. Standing up straighter than ever you begin to speak.

‘Hey what’s the big idea? I’m the Ultimate leader. I don’t need your help guiding our class.” You told him with a grim expression. Twogami gave you a look over before setting down his fork. He wipes his mouth off with a napkin before standing to face you. His intimidation factor was off the charts. Can money buy such a scary aura?! After adjusting his glasses he begins to speak with a sigh.

“Listen I, Byakuya Twogami, am much better suited to be in charge. You may have your impeccable wits and title but that is nothing compared to being next in the Togami line. Now are we done here? I would like to finish my food”

Not even giving you a chance to respond he goes right back to eating. Even with your ultimate status this guy intimidates you a lot. But you will not be backing down. He thinks he’s so high and mighty you’ll show him high and mighty.

The days feel like they’re getting heavier. Monokuma’s annoying voice rings in your ears. There’s no way you’d believe that memory loss garbage….And even if you did, you had to stay strong for everyone. Twogami’s party did nothing to calm the tense feeling in the air. You decided you were going to check this abandoned building from top to bottom before anyone steps foot inside.

You do not see Nagito when you first step in. Maybe he’s cleaning somewhere else. Teruteru was said to be in the kitchen. Entering the main room of the building you see Twogami rifling through what looks to be a metal case. Hearing the floors creak under your weight he looks over. Upon seeing you he sends a glare.

“And what are you doing here? I don’t remember you having to prepare anything.” There was a doubtful tone to his voice. Twogami was trying to let this party go off without a hitch. And he wasn’t going to let some commoner ruin his plans. Though behind the rich boy costume Imposter did feel kinda bad. They felt like they were trampling all over your pride with their Byakuya act. However this was their ultimate. And as Twogami….No. Just as themself, if that even existed, they will keep their classmates safe. Even if they have to hurt some feelings.

“As a leader it is my duty to keep everyone in order and assure maximum safety. I plan to do a total sweep of the place before the party.” And like he did to you, you did not give him a chance to answer. You quickly turn around and exit out into the hallway missing the look of awe on Twogami’s face. Walking past the fire door you come up to the kitchen. Before you can reach for the door it swings open revealing Nagito. Strange….If Teruteru was already in the kitchen there was no need for Nagito to be in there. The lucky student passed by with a smile yet spoke no words towards you. Also strange. Nagito usually said something when passing. He deemed it rude not to say hello to an ultimate.

Entering the kitchen you see Teruteru at the counter. He doesn’t seem to notice you coming in. The usual smile on his face is replaced with a look of fear and he’s shaking like a leaf. Stepping closer seems to have caught his attention as he jumps. The look of fear is swiftly changed into a smile yet he’s still shaking. Teruteru then grabs a knife and begins chopping at some vegetables. Seems as if he’s trying to make it seem like he was simply taking a break.

“W-Why hello there. Heh, what could I do for you?” He’s shaken up quite a bit. Not a single flirty remark in that sentence and Teruteru sure did like to tease about your strong authority. You stand tall and look down at the chef. He visibly shrinks back. Looking him dead in the eye you start to command him.

“You will tell me what you have discussed with Nagito Komaeda.”

This caused Teruteru to tense up. Setting down the knife he grabs a comb from his pocket and begins to bring it through his hair. Though there isn’t a hair out of place on his pompadour. Appears to be a nervous habit.

“I uh….I have no idea what you mean mon ami~. We were simply discussing plans for the upcoming party.” Teruteru had tried to come off as collected but you knew better. He wasn’t making eye contact and he was constantly fidgeting. Nagito told him something and you were going to find out what.

“Teruteru Hanamura! I command you to tell me what Nagito had told you. Simple party plans would not have such an impact on your demeanor.”

This seemed to have caused a reaction in him. He began to blubber as words poured out of his mouth like a dam cracking under pressure.

“He came in here and told me that he had plans to murder someone at the party with the knife he had hidden under one of the tables in the dining room. He planned to overload the breaker in here with irons in the storage room to cause a blackout so he could grab the knife and kill someone during the party. I-I begun to form my own plan of stopping him….by….killing him?” The last part of his word vomit stuck with Teruteru. He would’ve had someone’s blood on his hands and would send the rest of his class to their own demise. “Oh my god I was going to kill him!” Teruteru then sinks to his knees before you.

Your face softens as you see the mess of a chef on the ground. Nagito was planning a murder? Why would he share this information with Teruteru? Dropping down to his level you set a careful hand on Teruteru’s back. “Listen. I’m going to go grab Twogami and you’re going to tell him what happened. And we’ll come up with a solution.” You normally wouldn’t call for backup, but as this was his party you felt he had the right to know.

You cautiously leave the kitchen and begin to look for the blond. Not able to find him in the building you exit to the hotel grounds. Noticing the while suit and blonde hair you call out to him and ask for him to come back. Leading him to the kitchen where Teruteru still sits slumped on the ground he listens to what you already know.

A look of disgust crosses Twogami’s face before he sets off to the main room. After announcing your departure to Teruteru, you follow him. Nagito is there setting up tables and dusting the furniture. He was about to offer the two of you a cheerful greeting but is cut off by your demand for him to exit the grounds. Not wanting to upset an ultimate that is clearly in higher ranks than he is, Nagito does not question it. He leaves the abandoned building to rest in his cottage to wait for permission to be allowed back in.

Looking under the tables you find the knife that Teruteru had mentioned. Grabbing it proceeds to coat your hand in wet paint. So Nagito had just planted this. But what’s the paint for?

“Set the knife in the duralumin case I brought on the left. I am currently using it to store anything I deem unsafe.”

You let out a scoff before setting the knife in the case. He sure does love bossing people around even in dire situations. Well….I guess that’s your talent so you can’t really speak. After doing a check of the rest of the tables, Twogami walks up to you with something in his hand. It’s a handkerchief with the Togami family crest. Imposter spent many hours perfecting the stitching of the symbol. You give him a confused look about the offering. Seeing the expression he rolls his eyes.

“Close your mouth before flies start to swarm. This is to wipe your hand off. I don’t need paint smears ruining the image of my party.”

“What? I can’t wipe paint on something as expensive as that. That handkerchief probably cost more than my house. I’ll just go wash it in the bathroom.”

Upset by your stubborn nature, Twogami grabs your wrist and begins to wipe the paint off himself. After your hand is clean he drops the cloth into your hand. “I expect that to be washed before it’s returned to me. Now I have some important matters to discuss.”

Stuffing the handkerchief into your pocket you give Twogami your full attention.

“I have decided that after this little incident we need to up the security. I would ask Nekomaru but I wish to keep this between us. Letting the public know that two people were planning a murder would cause chaos. When it’s time for the party you will help me conduct body searches. I’d like for you to keep an eye on the party with me to make sure no suspicious activity is at play.”

While normally you would make a fuss about him bossing you around with people’s lives at stake it was simply not the time for that. Nodding once he finishes speaking, you and Twogami complete one last look of the place before the party starts.

It’s time for the party and the two of you are set up outside of the abandoned building. After checking everyone and confiscating anything deemed dangerous, the party is in full swing. Everything is going smoothly. 11:30 was nearing and at the corner of your eye you see Nagito inch closer to the table. Knowing you shut the irons off you pay this no mind. There’s no way he’d try to pull anything when everyone can see him. A quick look of confusion crosses his face as the lights are still on. The confused expression is swapped for one of despair. There’s a creepy smile on his face and his eyes are clouded. Even if the blackout did not occur Nagito can still pull through with his plan.

He suddenly flips the table cloth over and goes to reach for his knife. Everyone at the party has eyes on him. Before he can fully register that his knife is in fact missing Nagito is pushed to the ground. His arms are pressed against his back and his face is squished into the floor. Multiple confused cries echo throughout the dining hall. Nagito recognized this tactic. After hours upon hours of researching the ultimates he’s sharing a class with he could easily tell that this was your work.

Twogami with Nekomaru in tow walks over to you and the detained lucky student. An agitated expression is on the heir’s face. He looks down at Nagito.

“You dare to think that I would let your plan continue? [Name] and I knew about your scheme and were quick to put a stop to it. And the fact that you would try to pull through with it in broad light is despicable.”

Anger, disgust, and confusion are present in the crowd of your classmates. Trying to make sense of it all Akane speaks up.

“I’m so friggin’ confused. What plan did Nagito have? Need me to beat him up for ya?”

You were quick to diminish the violent thought. “No, that will not be necessary as he has already been disarmed.”

“Nagito had planned out a murder.”

Twogami’s words caused a commotion in the dining hall. After hearing the noise from the kitchen, Teruteru cautiously enters the room fearing the worst. Though a feeling of relief washed over him after seeing Nagito on the ground.

Nekomaru lets out a strangled noise. His teeth are clenched and his fists tightened.

“You were going to murder one of your classmates? THAT’S INEXCUSABLE! Please [Name] allow me to detain him somewhere away from everyone. SOMEONE LIKE HIM CANNOT WALK FREEEEE!”

Looking over to Twogami as if silently discussing what to do he sends you a nod. Removing Nagito from your grasp he is quickly put into Nekomaru’s. The coach is quick to remove him from the premises. With a sigh Twogami faces your classmates. Pushing his glasses up he begins to apologise.

“I am sorry you all had to see that. And I am sorry that my exquisite party must draw to a close here. Exit the building and head to your cottage for the night.”

Though shaken, everyone proceeds to leave in groups. No one wants to walk back alone fearing that someone will try something. With just you and Twogami left he turns to face you.

“That was quite impressive. What you did back there was helpful in getting Nagito detained. I believe that we should come to an agreement. Yes we are fine separately but together I feel that we could do an outstanding job at keeping everyone safe.”

Twogami extended a chubby hand out for you to shake. This handshake would seal the two of you into a partnership. One of which would keep your class safe. Looking from his hand to his face then back to his hand you sit there in thought. This could be a wonderful idea. With two people working together that’s like double the safety. With a smile you shake his hand giving it a tight squeeze.

“I think I’d like that Twogami! From here on out the two of us are now Jabberwock Island’s health and safety committee.”

[knchins]

Frenzy - Bakugou Katsuki

Summary: You absolutely cannot stand number one hero Bakugou Katsuki. Something goes disastrously wrong when you run into a thieving villain while on patrol with him.

Pairing: Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Pro-Hero!Reader

Rating: E+

Word Count: 2.1k

Bingo Prompt: Hate Sex

Warnings: Sex pollen, public sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, some blood, not much after care (sorry).

Notes: So I had two requests for hate sex with Bakugou, and I hope this lives up to the expectations you both had! Some soft Katsuki at the end. Also snuck in the weekly NSFW prompt for Bookclub! (Not tagging because I’m hoping to actually show up in the tags this time around...RIP)

  Number one hero? More like number one zero. You seethed to yourself as you stormed down your assigned street. You had been assigned the same beat as your arch nemesis, top hero, and coworker Bakugou Katsuki.

 You hated everything about Ground Zero. His dumbass costume, his unruly hair, his voice, his god awful temper- everything. How he got to be number one instead of you was beyond your comprehension. You had loved your agency and you felt as if you shouldn’t have to be the one to leave. After all, you had been signed on first since you were a year ahead of him. He had been annoying in high school and he was even worse after graduation. Shouldn’t he have matured as he got older?

 Typically you worked a schedule opposite to Bakugou. It was rare that you occupied the same shift. However, since you would be leaving for a week-long vacation in a few days you had to work hours that overlapped with his. It was your worst nightmare. The end of the week just couldn’t come fast enough.

 You rounded the corner, stopping abruptly when a tall female villain stood in front of you. Your eyes narrowed as you got into a defensive position. In her hand was a large wad of cash and at her feet was a small pile of empty wallets that had no doubt been stolen.

 At first she appeared caught off guard, having not realized that there was a hero patrolling the area. Determined to settle this without help of your shift partner, you clenched your fists and evened out your breathing. “Surrender and no one has to get hurt. And by no one, I mean you.”

 She laughed, “And who's going to stop me? You? Please. Maybe if you were a little higher in ranking I’d be scared.” She pocketed the cash and took off the thorny bullwhip that was attached to her utility belt.

 Of course, villains loved to get under your skin by undermining your status. You wish you could say that you were immune to it but you weren’t. Coming in number eleven time and time again really ate at you. Your self worth had begun to take a huge hit, and perhaps that was why you allowed yourself to hesitate even slightly.

 The villain flicked her wrist and the leather whip shot out. It wrapped around your wrist, the small spikes impaling the soft skin there. She yanked backward, forcing you to stumble forward. You managed to keep yourself from falling as you regained your balance.

 You attempted to resist, trying to grab onto the part not around your wrist. The thorns however kept you from getting a good enough hold to free yourself. When the villain was close enough you saw her clench her first and you immediately prepared yourself for a punch.

 Instead of swinging, she opened her hand back up with her palm facing skyward. You could see a small amount of pink dust forming in the center of it. She inhaled sharply before blowing the powder into your face, forcing you to inhale it.

 You coughed, dazed and confused as she released her hold on you. You stumbled backwards, tripping and falling onto your backside as you heard a familiar voice yell from behind you. “What the fuck are you doing? Get your ass up!” Bakugou yelled as he ran towards the villain to support you.

 His voice sent a trill down your spinal column, resonating between your thighs. Since when did him shouting have any effect other than rage on you? “Ground Zero,” You called out with a wavering voice. “Be careful, she-”

 Before you could finish, the villain was blowing another round of pink dust into Bakugou’s face. His face twitched around his ocipital bones before he let out a loud sneeze. You could hear the high pitched laughter of the villain as she threw down a pink smoke bomb to get away, and you quickly realized that more of the mysterious substance had been packed inside of it.

 You attempted to cover your mouth and nose with your sleeve, however it was too late. You had inhaled too much. As your blurred vision slowly clarified, you could feel an intense heat pooling within the pit of your stomach as you watched Bakugou attempt to catch his breath.

 How have you never noticed how truly handsome the twenty-two year old was until now? The bulging biceps of his arms flexing as he tried to dispel the smoke from around him. His lean, slender neck and broad shoulders. You still hated him, that hadn’t stopped, but something was suddenly drawing you to him at the same time. Your eyes widened as the realizing hit you.

 You wanted to fuck him.

 The same thought seemed to run through the number one hero’s head at the exact same time. His tongue moved over his lips, wetting them as he took in your figure as you remained seated on the ground. Blood dripped from the shallow cuts on your wrist and onto the ground, forgotten by both of you in the moment.

 He stormed over to you, shoulders tense as he ripped off his grenade shaped gauntlets. He grabbed you by your uncut wrist, wrenching you back up onto your feet and pulling you flush against his hard body. “I’m gonna make you mine.” He growled dangerously into your ear.

 Something inside of you snapped completely as you grabbed him by the back of the head and forced him down for a hard and painful kiss. He crouched to grab the backs of your thighs, hoisting you upwards, the sheer amount of his strength turning you on even more.

 You wrapped your legs around his waist, core throbbing for him. Inside your chest your heart was racing and you were almost scared that wouldn’t be able to get enough of him. Bakugou bit at your lower lip, pulling it into his mouth to suck and nibble on as he forced your back against the nearby brick wall. The thought that the two of you were still very much in public (though in a dark alleyway) seemed to not even cross your minds. There just wasn’t time to go anywhere. You needed each other then and there.

 Bakugou had always thought you were a stuck up prude. You were a hot girl with a shitty attitude, always giving him a dirty look when he hadn’t even said two words to you. You argued any time you were scheduled to work at the same time, and your jealousy towards his status was glaringly obvious. Ultimately he wanted as much to do with you as you did with him.

 But seeing you on the ground, legs spread and chest heaving in your skin tight hero costume had him so incredibly hard that the thought of going home and taking care of his erection himself was the farthest thing from his mind. He wanted...no, needed you now. Right this instant without any hesitation.

 One of his large, strong hands groped at your clothed breast. He pinched at the hardening bud as he ground his cock against your covered pussy. You mewled desperately for him, needing something more than the gentle outside friction.

 You grabbed either side of his face to strengthen the kiss, making it even rougher as teeth and tongues clashed. After a moment you could taste the faint coppery taste of blood, but it was unclear which one of you were bleeding.

 While kissing him, you had hardly felt him ripping off parts of your costume. You had been too focused on his mouth to really notice. Only when the cold air hit your bare breasts did it sink in.

 Bakugou suddenly let go of your legs and you quickly placed them back on the ground to steady yourself. He grabbed you roughly by the waist and forced you to turn around, bending you over and pushing your face and chest against the rough brick of the building that had been behind you previously.

 “You’re going to take this cock like a good little hero, princess.” He said gruffly as you felt your spandex leggings being tugged down your thighs along with the thong you had been wearing. You heard the metallic clink of his belt as his middle finger pushed into your soaking core. “Look how fucking wet you are out here where everyone can see you. Who would have guessed you’re this fucking filthy.”

 Your knees shook as you grappled against the wall in order to keep yourself standing. His long finger pumping in and out at a high speed, moving with the natural curvature of your walls. You could barely hear the sound of his uniform pants dropping over the wet smacks of his knuckles against your skin.

 Bakugou was preparing his cock with his free hand, spreading his precum over his head and shaft as extra lubricant. Suddenly he removed his finger from your aching cunt, making you whine for something- anything- to be inserted back inside of you.

 “What a fucking slut.” He murmured under his breath, his disgusted tone lighting your entire body on fire with want.

 You felt the thick head of his penis press against your entrance. He hesitated, almost as if he wanted to torture you longer only to realize that he simply couldn’t hold out any more. His hands grabbed onto your hips as he forced his mushroomed tip and large shaft into your soft pussy.

 Bakugou let out a possessive growl before smacking your ass hard. He drove you further into the brick as he began to snap his hips back and forth, forcing you so hard into the wall that you were cut by the sharpness of the stone. You cried out in a sweet mixture of pleasure and pain, unable to determine where one ended and another began.

 His nails were digging into the flesh of your hips, nearly drawing blood (and definitely bruising) as he slammed into you over and over. He felt positively feral, unable to stop himself. If you were to cry and scream and tell him no, he knew he would not have been able to quit. Whatever the villain put into his system had a strong hold. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was very thankful that you had been so willing. The wetness of your pussy was evidence of that.

 He relished your taunt walls choking his dick as it continued to ram in and out at a jackhammer pace. You could do nothing but moan, drool slipping down your chin and onto your chest. His abusive cock had you at your peak in no time at all, eyes rolling back as you shook violently with our orgasm.

 Bakugou continued on for another half minute before releasing a large load inside of you, filling your hole up with the white gooey liquid. Almost instantly the two of you seemed to snap out of whatever spell the villain has placed over you, and suddenly the gravity of the situation was upon you both.

 He pulled out and pulled his pants up, “Shit, are you okay?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned which was...strange. You had never heard him take that tone of voice before.

 You pulled away from the wall, sinking to your knees in the process as you tried to collect yourself. The sheer intensity of your orgasm still made it difficult to think straight. Did you really just get fucked by Bakugou? The Bakugou Katsuki? You attempted to collect the remains of your costume as you sat on the hard pavement.

 “Y/N.” He said, his voice soft with worry.

 “I’m fine.” You managed to say, somewhat thankful that he was concerned about you. You managed to get yourself decent for the public once more before looking up at him, “Can you, uh...help me up?”

 He held out his hand for you and you grabbed it, allowing him to pull you up with relative ease. You had to hold onto him to keep yourself upright, still feeling completely wrecked by him. Your face was alight with embarrassment, wishing that you didn’t have to appear so weak in front of him. You were supposed to be a pro-hero and here you were shaking like a newborn fawn.

 “I’m taking you back to the station.” He said, a bit of gruffness returning to his voice. “You’re bleeding.”

 You nodded before stealing your facial expression, not wanting him to see you looking like such an idiot. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

 He scoffed, anger flaring, “why the fuck would I tell anyone?! Come on, lightweight.” He began to pull you back towards headquarters.

Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist || Bingo requests open!

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[iliumheightnights]

We Have A Jedi [10] | Peter Parker x M!Stark!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars and Marvel

Pairing: Tony Stark x Son!Reader, Peter Parker x Male!Reader

Summary: (M/N) faces the man that’s been playing games with him. The results will set him on a course he never thought of.

A/N: Boy oh boy. I’ve been wanting to write for so long. Of course when I thought I had time to write I was called back into work. So now that my schedule has calmed down more, let’s see how much work I can get out. ...

Kuat, 1 year later.

(M/N) stood on the bridge of the lightbringer looking over the rings of the shipyards. It had been pretty close to a year since he and Janai had left earth and his father. He hadn’t stopped thinking of him and the other avengers, his mother told him to put them aside but he couldn’t. 

“I can tell you have something on your mind.” He turned around to see Sheyo walking up to him. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head at her. “No. It’s just a distraction, I need to sort it out.” She nodded at that. “You know I’m here for you (M/N), no matter what.” She whispered to him. “Even if it’s against the code. You’re my best friend.” He let out a chuckle. “So Scandalous Sheyo.” She playfully slapped his arm. “Stop it!...it’s true though. Just know that (M/N).” He looked back out the window. “Thank you Sheyo it means a lot.”

Like a cold wind, (M/N) shivered. He brought a hand up to his head. A small pain throughout. “Do you feel that?” Sheyo asked him. “It’s like...it’s like…” (M/N) looked back outside the window. “Like a ripple through the force.” Suddenly three large Imperial Star destroyers jumped out of hyperspace, followed by another three. The alarms started blaring. The Star Destroyers began to fire down on the ships protecting the ring. “Shields up! All pilots to their fighters! Protect the Shipyards with your life!” The captain called out.

All around them the crew ran around to their stations. The captain stood giving his orders to the bridge command. Sheyo stood next to (M/N) both watching the invading force. “So your vision was right, they somehow snuck their way here.” The two watched as their fighters launched from the ship and began their counter assault. Just then Janai and Master Dia arrived on the bridge. “Status?” Janai asked, her command voice showing. “Six Imperial Star Destroyers. Three to sectors 34-36, another three to 67-69. They’ve cut off the Hyperspace Lanes  for us, We have enough ships to hold them off...but I’ll be honest. It doesn’t look good.” The captain spoke to her. The cold feeling got stronger. Returning to the window, (M/N)  looked across the battle and witnessed a small light of blue appear and began to open up. It was just like the portal back in New York. “Heads up. He’s here.” Through the portal, a massive cruiser started to come through. Larger than the other star destroyers. “What...how is it doing that? Is it new hyperspace technology?” The captain asked. “We’ll get to the answers later, for now we have to get aboard that ship. Come (M/N) it’s time.” (M/N) turned from the window and walked off the bridge with his mother, Sheyo and Master Dina. 

“Are you ready for this? I know you’ve been training for this but...it’s always different when the time comes.” She gives him a quick glance, a worried expression on her face. “I’m ready. Don’t worry about me master, just stay focused.” With that he walked past her a bit towards the hangar. Entering the hangar, the four of them met with three other jedi knights in front of a shuttle. The group of jedi gathered around a holographic table. “We’re all here today to defeat an enemy of the republic and defend Kuat.” Janai started her speech. (M/N) listened, but knew what was to happen. He needed to defeat Kren and retake the infinity stone. “This right here is our Strike Team. You’ve all been chosen for your talent and skills. Each of us will be challenged when we board that cruiser. Let it be clear, there is no option, we either capture Kren or kill him. He cannot escape.” She quickly went through a strategy of how they’d go through the cruiser. (M/N) paid attention but he already knew what he needed to do, face Kren. “Alright, everyone to the shuttle. Let’s end this.”

The Jedi task force, seven in total, boarded the shuttle. On board Sheyo Sat next to (M/N), Janai opposite them. (M/N) could feel the tension in the shuttle, the jedi might have been taught to let go of their emotions...but that’s easier said than done. The sound of roaring engines and the rough jolt of launching signaled to the party that the shuttle had launched. The mission had begun. Every now and then, the shuttle would jolt from explosions outside. They didn’t have any windows to look out of but they could tell that the battle was large and a heavy firefight was being waged. (M/N) could feel the fear, the anger, the sadness all sorts of different emotions from everyone on the battlefield. He thought of his friends, his family, Kren. He knew he had to face him and end him once and for all.

The relatively silent shuttle ride soon came to an end, it was about time (M/N) had thought. The pilot had informed them they were about to pass into the enemy hangar. The entire strike team stood at once and prepared themselves. “This is it. Everyone remember the plan and the ultimate goal, find Kren and stop him.” Janai called out. The sound of blaster fire hitting the shuttle could be heard and we knew it was time. “Go! Go! Go!” The strike team jumped out of the shuttle lightsabers ignited. Fighting alongside seven jedi was a lot different than with the regular squad, instead of one person with a lightsaber and the force, everyone had them. The team was easily able to cut through the enemy forces and capture the hangar.

“No sith yet, but I would expect to see them soon. Definitely as we get closer to the bridge.” (M/N) said.

“I agree. But I must say I expected to see maybe one or two here. We should be careful.” Master Dia said. “Alright, let’s continue on. Everyone keep moving, we need to be quick and careful.” 

The team had left the hangar and began rushing down the corridors of the destroyer. Janai was in the lead of course, (M/N) and Sheyo taking up the back to stop any followers. The halls of the destroyer seemed so...cold and desolate, he wondered how anyone was able to walk through these halls and stand tall. Most of the offensive had come from the forefront so Janai and the other jedi had already taken care of them before they could reach the other two. As they continued to run down the hall had started to fall behind a bit, not by a lot...but enough for the blast doors to cut them off from the rest of their group. “Karabast.” (M/N) Pushed his lightsabers into the door and tried to cut his way through. “Hold on! I’ll cut us a path through!” Suddenly a blaster bolt hit the door. “No time! We got company!” Sheyo called out. (M/N) retook his sabers and helped Sheyo block the incoming fire. Pressing down onto his communicator he called to his group. “We got cut off. Taking heavy fire, will find another way forward, you all keep to the plan!” His mother's voice went through the comms but he didn’t hear as he pulled Sheyo down another hallway. “This way come on!” The two ran down the halls, deflecting bolts when they could. “Well...this is a fine mess we’ve fallen into!” Sheyo called out with a laugh. “Shut up Master Kenobi!” (M/N) answered with a laugh of his own. It was nice, that even in a time of crisis and uncertainty he still could laugh with his friend.

(M/N) couldn’t help but laugh as he ran through the destroyer. The hallways reminded him of the helicarrier back on earth. His father had shown him around it the day after they met, it was pretty incredible if he could say so. This was like the dark version of that, it felt just desolate and deprived of happiness, except for the wicked, sinister kind. They passed a few halls which clearly were prison wards, they could feel the essence of the poor tortured souls left behind. 

There was static that came through their comms. “(M/N)! There was a change of plans...again. We couldn’t make it to the bridge right away, so we’ve made it to the engine room. We’re placing detonators to make the ship explode. You get to the bridge and We’ll meet you two there. May the force be-” The comms cut out again. “What’s with the comms? They come and they go. Think it’s Kren?” Sheyo asked. (M/N) nodded. “More than likely, probably to play a game with us. That means...we’re more than likely walking into a trap.” Sheyo chuckled. “Good thing we’re great at springing traps!”

The closer the two of them got to the bridge, the heavier the resistance was. The hallways began to be filled with more and more imperial troopers. This must have been the reason why the hangar wasn’t that well defended. The two shot back the blaster fire on the imperial troops and cut their way to the bridge. “Have I ever told you how cool I think your lightsabers are!? I’m jealous you have two of them now!” Sheyo called out over the fighting. 

“You gotta hurry up! You’re missing all the fun of having two Sheyo!” 

“Yeah yeah. Maybe I’ll have a double bladed one and I’ll be stronger than you!”

“You wish!”

After more fighting and playful banter, the two of them arrived at the blast doors of the bridge. They both could feel a strong force presence on the other side of the door. The familiar presence of the dark side was strong...but there was also something else. Something more powerful...the infinity stone. The grip on his lightsabers tightened. “You ready? We don’t have any back up...it’s just us.” He asked to Sheyo. “Always.”

The door slid open and the two of them walked in. To their surprise the bridge had pretty much been abandoned. The stations and computers laid abandoned, no sign of a crew...except for one. “Well well...If it isn’t my apprentice. Long have I waited for you to arrive. Now here you are. Watch as I destroy your precious fleet and bring glory to my empire.” At that moment (M/N) ignited his lightsabers and moved into a fighting stance. “I won’t let that happen.” Sheyo followed in her own stance. “So be it.”

(M/N) was the first to launch himself at the sith. His lightsabers swinging against the Chiss’ lightsaber. Sheyo came in from the side and tried to catch the dark lord off guard. Kren had definitely gotten stronger since the last time they had met, but so had (M/N). The entire time during the fight, he focused on his training from his mother...but also from the time he had spent with his father and the avengers. Having Sheyo beside him made him feel like it was finally an even fight

“I see you have trained for this. No matter, I’ll still be victorious and after I kill your friend I WILL make you kneel to me!” Kren shouted and went for a strike.

Sheyo was able to block and deflect his attack back onto him. “Oops. Sorry guess you’ll have to find a new life goal!”

The two continued to push Kren back. It was obvious that the sith had been too overconfident and had underestimated the pair. The longer the fighting continued on the more angry he became and the less coordinated he was. His swings became less accurate and his stance more lazy. It was working, they were getting close.

But just as the battle seemed to be turning in their favor, it changed just like that. Suddenly the ship rocked. Even during this (M/N) still swung at Kren, he wasn’t about to let the chance slip away from him. Then an explosion sent the three of them flying, knocking Sheyo out. (M/N) quickly got up, Kren was struggling to his feet. Looking out the bridge windows, (M/N) could see the imperial star destroyers had turned and were now firing on Kren’s ship. Sith betrayal at it’s finest. “Traitors! All of them! I’ll deal with them...soon enough.” Kren said, pulling out the infinity stone. “For now I must bid you farewell. We’ll see each other again, the force wills it.” With that, he opened a portal and walked into it. “Oh no you don’t!” He wasn’t about to let this man leave again...at least not with the stone. Using the force he called the stone to him. The sith had passed through the portal but his arm with the stone was still through it on the bridge. Once the hand was through the portal he could close it and be gone, (M/N) couldn’t let that happen. It was like a game of tug of war, who would win. In the end, (M/N) was the victor as the stone flew out of Kren’s hand and into his. With the stone out of his grasp, the portal shut, severing the part of Kren’s arm that was still on the bridge. While the chiss may have escaped again, he didn’t escape with the stone...or his arm.

The ship continued to rock from the fire it was taking. “(M/N) come in! What’s going on!?” His comms roar to life, his mother. “Master! The ship is being attacked by the other Imperial, typical betrayal.” “We can’t get to you! The way has been blocked.” His mother sounded worried. He wasn’t going to lie...he was starting to get worried too.

“We’ll be alright. You all get back to the shuttle and get out of here!”

“What about you?”

“I think I know another way out of here! Now go!”

His mother didn’t respond for a while. “May the force be with you-” The comms cut out.

He turned back to Sheyo, who had begun to stir. “(M/N)- what happened? Did we win?” He shook his head. “Not how I was hoping, but enough. Now...we need to get out of here. Can you stand?” She tried to stand, but only let out a pained grunt. “No...my leg hurts. I need to see a medic soon.” The bridge shook. “Well first we have to get out of here. Here, hold on.” (M/N) wrapped his hand around Sheyo’s shoulders and focused on the infinity stone. He thought of escape, thought of getting out of there. Soon he felt the stone power up and soon he and Sheyo were engulfed in blue. When the blue light stopped and dispersed they were not on the ship’s bridge, they weren’t even back on the lightbringer. (M/N) quickly recognized the sounds of the city and building structures. “What happened? Where are we?” Sheyo asked. (M/N) smirked knowing where the stone had brought him. “Earth. We’re on Earth.” 

Home. The stone had brought him home.

[leather-and-laces]

Stevie A. Nicks Biography × History Predating Stardust Crusaders

NOTE - This bio is a HUGE Work in Progress. Certain things may change, and other bits may seem rushed.

)▬▬ BASIC INFO ▬▬(

• Name: Stevie Annah Nicks

• Nicknames and Aliases: Anna, Savannah

• Species: Human

• Powers: Stand- Isis [Egyptian Goddess Stand]

• Alignment: True Neutral

• Date of Birth: December 13th

• Gender: Female

• Hometown: Tokyo, Japan

• Relatives: Unnamed Father [DECEASED; Died from Brain Cancer], Unnamed Mother [DECEASED; Murdered]

• Occupation: Shipping Company Owner [Former], Gambler [Currently]

• Equipment: Sewing Scissors and Thread

• Status: Alive

▪︎ Part 3 - Age : 33

▪︎ Part 4 - Age : 45

▪︎ Part 5 - Age : 47

▪︎ Part 6 - 56

• Stand Name - Isis

• Stand Power - Red String Manipulation: User can create, shape and manipulate the red string of fate, an invisible conceptual string that bonds souls together. They can create an limitless amount of red strings and extend them at any distance and the strings never tear apart, as it is practically indestructible. They can make the red strings become visible and touchable for others, and also choose to apply changes to anyone’s soul, and as well control the relationship of those bonded by the strings, or even completely remove their bond.

▪︎ Stand Stats

Power - D [Not “Attack” wise; This is catered to the effectiveness of Isis]

Speed - B

Range - A

Durability - D

Precision - A

Potential - B

▬▬ PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION ▬▬

• Height: 5’9’’

• Weight: 162 LBs

• Body Shape: Hourglass

• Natural Hair Color: Platinum Blonde

• Dyed Hair Color: N/A

• Eye Color: Blue

• Ethnicity: Japanese American

• Skin Tone: Porcelain

*TOLD IN FIRST PERSON POV ONLY FIR THIS PART.*

▬▬ Back Story ▬▬

My father was a respectable man. A archeologist. And I, a archeologists’ eldest daughter and heir of his company, his golden girl. He not only owned a shipping company, he was a close relative of a museum curator, and also cared for the museum in Alaska– where we were often stayed at in the summer. As his heir, I was expected to learn much and so, I had my own private tutor once I was able to be home schooled.

When summer came to pass, we went back Tokyo. In Tokyo, I saw paintings in an art exhibit. I fell in love with their design, and took up the hobby of painting. I practiced and practiced, giving father and mother small gifts every once in awhile. He made it clear that I should not interact with the outside world all too often, as he believed it’d distract me from my studies after mother had passed away from a hate related crime; I was mixed between Japanese and American, bad blood from the second world war still remained. I, unknowst to him, was using this as a means of coping with grief, with trauma that had sparked my abilities; I always wished to alter the past, to manipulate Fate itself [though I hadn’t known it was fate at that time] to save my mothers life. I was about 6 at the time I first noticed my abilities. All the same, my father would oftentimes sneak out my supplies, leaving my projects vastly unfinished.

He did however, notice I had begun training my eye for the paint right after passing through the store on multiple occasions, and dreading with his daughter would whip up next. I could see things you wouldn’t believe; Red strings connected to every little thing with little dates etched into them, peoples lives… For as long as I could remember, I could see everything of this nature just dangling freely for me and only me to observe. I treasured these moments the most, this innocence in my abilities. Most of my paintings reflected things I saw in people’s lives.

I can remember everything so vividly down to an exact date and exact time in which my marriage that lasted a month or so, was quick to fall apart. I had just gotten into the gambling scene heavily at 24 years old and, undoubtedly so, I had made friends as well as enemies. It was no secret I was a rich mans daughter and heir that simply had too much time and cash on their hands to blow it all so I became a center of attention. My true gambling addiction began to grow from the time I was 16, as my tutor had accumulated a massive debt, and was the man responsible for sparking my true talent. Gambling. What few had tried approaching me in hopes of romantic interest, did so in groups, only interested in my cash or my body; Everyone except for him, or so I thought.

He was charming, handsome even, and he was like a god in my eyes for he made me feel special and loved… So when he proposed, I thought nothing of it and accepted him into my heart immediately. He was eager and I was nervous.

The chapel was empty on my side, save for my old tutor and an old colleague of my fathers, so his friends had spread out evenly.

My body, it was on the floor and it was oh so limp. I could feel it, suffocation as blood clogged every airway possible. So limp, yet I mustered the strength to say one name in hope someone-anyone-would overhear, no matter how faint or weak I sounded.

“Ricardo…?”

“No one is going to find your body, my sweet.”

With that, that Italian bastard left me to die, gagging on my blood. And the fool had the audacity to step over me as I was in the process of dying in my own pool of blood on the floor in the bedroom, blood slipping between my fingers from the wounds peppering my stomach and face from the bat he used to beat me with. Before leaving through the door, he stoked a flame to a scented candle given to us on our wedding… and smiled down at me “Thanks for the inhe…..”

I can remember blacking out and, somehow, by some miracle, I was alive; My ribs were cracked, left hand fractured and I had various damage to my face from the bat which he had chosen to bludgeon me with but… I was alive. It stirred something in me, like I had cheated the inevitable when in actuality a friend of his hand stopped by to drop off a box of camping supplies…

He planned to break my bones and stuff me in a trunk to better hide me in the nearby woods easier.

)▬▬ Stardust Crusaders Biography ▬▬(

A single mother turned thrill seeker, the longtime gamblers travels had landed her in Egypt; She felt seemingly drawn in, called to even, in a casino up in Cario. As a matter of fact, her exploits in gambling her brought her to make an acquaintance of the Elder D'Arby brother. The pair were rivals in the beginning; Stevie aiming to collect his thread of life, and he aiming to collect her soul, the pair would often play various card games together. It was always rather intense, but there was no success in their battles for either party, oftentimes ending in a draw.

These games together brought the pair closer, additionally, causing the duo to pair up to play games against people of interest. This also sparked the interest of Lord DIO, particularly her abilities, involving the alteration of fate on a human soul with the exception of the past; Her abilities complimented the Elder D'Arbys abilities rather well. He offered her money for her efforts, but she merely stated that she was interested in the thrills that accompanied her gambling habits, in exchange that she gets her children tended to with no involvement in this lifestyle she leads. She would oftentimes accompany the Elder D'Arby for his gambling exploits, even if she herself do not play games with him at all times, she ended up using her abilities to compliment his abilities with the soul.

She ended up, eventually, having her fair run in with the Crusaders shortly after the defeat of the Elder D'Arby. With her employ to DIO and the defeat of her friend, she challenged them to her own game of fate, before she was defeated. In a last ditch effort, she attempted to utilize her threads to grab herself a hostage for she knew her failure would ultimately lead to her potential demise. However, Star Platinum was fast, making short work of the woman and shattering all ten of her fingers, rendering her stand completely useless as she has no mobility in her hands. Her fate is ambiguous after this last encounter, but she is to be credited for helping place Anubis on that familiar path in which Chaka acquired the famous sword. Her role is minor in the Glory Gods, and ultimately, apart from complimenting the Elder D'Arbys abilities or her alteration of fate bound to a soul, she has little impact on the grand scheme of things.

She lives her life in shame as much as isolation, having been unable to raise her months old daughter properly, she had to send her child away to a relative in America until her hands recovered from their previous injuries caused by Jotaros encounter.

[gunmetal-magnus]

And what if I can’t?  What if I’m not worthy of my ideals?

As I stare out my apartment window and watch the drizzling sky, I’m drawn to the subtle gradient of yellow.  Clouds coasting through the sky, gray yet without dismay.  And the sun?  The sun will live to break another day, that I am confident in.  I only wish I were so confident in myself.

....

Life is strange.  Mine in particular looks like it might be going in a good direction.  I’ve been getting interviews for jobs and as someone who’s spent their fair share of time hopelessly unemployed and depressed, not knowing what to do with themselves (besides salsaing with suicide ideation), I should be elated about any progress.  I wish I could say that I am or even that I was but that wouldn’t be accurate.  The truth is that I’m a harrowing hailstorm of things - surprisedsleepybusycuriousthankfuloptimisticexposedhorrifiedcriticalnervousanxiousinsecurepressuredtired - it’s all a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?

Knocking on the looming doors of success, I find myself feeling the crushing weight of my expectations.  The walls are a deafening white with not a texture or pattern in sight.  If you try to touch them they ripple like water.  There are no windows for me to peer through.  Fog creeps around me like a cheetah stalking its prey.  It’s so thick you could choke on it.  Success is...scary.

I know I know, that sounds a ridiculous thing to say, shouldn’t I be more afraid of failing?  Welllll...no.  You see, the weight I mentioned earlier was not merely crushing, it was also comforting.  Over time failure became familiar and eventually, my friend.  I got used to failure as the status quo, smothered in its cosy embrace and the threat of change, of combing out of this embrace into the chilling embrace of uncertainty, of becoming someone worthy of their success - it’s unfamiliar, it’s scary.  But just what is so comforting about not achieving your goals - about not getting what you really want?  For me it’s because of one paralyzing question: And what if I can’t?  What if I’m not worthy of my ideals?

“But…I’m…I’m just a soldier, I-I’m not worthy.”

It’s a terrifying prospect that I could give something my all and find that I just couldn’t do it.  I don’t want to be saying “I did my best and it wasn’t good enough,” because what I may mean is “I wasn’t good enough.  I don’t have the power.”  But that’s exactly the point!  I do have the power and if that is true then I have to come to terms with my responsibility to that power - that it’s up to me to use that power because when you can do the things that you can do...and then the bad things happen...they happen because of you.  I don’t want that burden so it’s easier to cast it off and reinvent the narrative by claiming powerlessness.  It’s easier to identify as a fraud and be done with it, to say to myself “men like me should’ve never dared to believe.”

Haha…paradoxically in our journey to discover our own power we discover just how little power we hold, that our only power is in ourselves.  Time and how bound we are to what we know at present, our surrounding circumstances, and the fact that we’re only people who can only do people things - these serve to remind us that the power of what we control and free will are only so vast.  It’s strange - you are responsible for how you use your power but not the outcome because you’re not omnipotent.  Bad things don’t always happen because of you.  Sometimes they just happen.  Sometimes things in general...just happen.

Let’s say I achieve success, what then?  The pressure to maintain is immense and to exceed - it’s even more so.  Who perpetuates this pressure?  For many of us it’s society but the greater threat lies within the darkness of our own hearts.  The societal gaze is nothing without validation and that validation comes from our self-worth and how grossly entangely that is with achieving success.  There is an expectation of linearity and escalation in progress, if you get good grades you’re expected to keep getting good grades and then some, so it’s shocking and disappointing when you don't.  People wonder how that could’ve happened, you wonder how it could’ve happened, you start to doubt yourself...should you though?  Writer and retired athlete Christopher Bergland challenges the expectation of linearity in success and explained in a conversation with his daughter, “I learned as an athlete that in order to succeed and become the best that I could be, I had to fail again and again—but always keep trying. Inevitably, every time I raised the bar, and took on a new athletic challenge, I would have to fail first in order to ultimately succeed and break a record." He embraced failure as part of the ebb and flow, it was part of success.  To him, failure was no reason for doubt.  So why should it be for me?  I don’t know, because life’s not that simple I suppose?  Identifying as unworthy and fraudulent, these are not easy to shake.  Negative self-identity manifests itself in habitual self-sabotage.  Worrying about how we align with our perceptions of ourselves, procrastination via instant gratification distractions like Instagram scrolling and going back on our promises such as taking that drink we know we shouldn’t become commonplace - habitual and they will take habitual work to undo them.

Even so, is this really just about the burden of ideals?  Perhaps not.  Susanne Babbel writes in her article “Fear of Success'' that the physiological reactions to trauma and excitement over success are similar - too similar. “When we experience a traumatic event — such as a car accident or a school bullying incident — our body associates the fear we experience with the same physiological feelings we get while excited.”  Heart tensions, shortness of breath, quivering and more - they are triggered in me by both stimuli and my body cares not for the messenger, only the message and that message is “be afraid.”  

if I’m responding to excitement as if it were trauma, the question is what is my trauma?  

…

Babbel mentions that throughout our lives, we may be made to feel less than, “many of us — especially if we've been subject to verbal abuse — have been told we were losers our whole lives, in one way or another. We have internalized that feedback and feel that we don't deserve success.”  I knew someone who made me feel like this, I called her my mum.  I spent a lifetime being told by her in one way or another that I wasn’t good enough.  I remember being dragged into the unlit attic by her for losing a crayon as a child, I remember being shouted at for getting some mediocre grades in junior high school - being told that I better do better, I remember being told that she had given up hope on me - I remember, all of it.  We don’t talk anymore - except we do.  I internalised her voice and I made it my own, I began to identify with failure.  I have an excerpt from an old journal entry that illustrates this identity crisis all too well.

                                                                                                                               5.11.20

“Sometimes I really wonder

If it’s better

To be a 

Fuckup

Than a Success

Without

The Interesting Mess.

...Why do I have to compromise the things that make me who I am to be happy?...Why can’t I have my misery?...I hate doing the right thing...Maybe I like being a failure, a mess, a no man’s man.”

By this time I had long since left home but you can’t outrun your demons, only challenge them.  I have only begun to unravel this voice due the therapy I have recently completed and am fighting this battle every day.  Sometimes I lose and they gain territory.  Other times I manage to reclaim it and even add more.  It’s an endless battle.

And yet, the voice of Failure clings to me like some foul smog.  Since he doesn’t want to let me try and fall, he’ll say, “It’s comfortable here.  Flounder into the fondue of failure, it’s what you know - it suits you.  What precisely is so wrong with failure in the first place?”

…

It’s a good question.  In an ideal world, the answer may be, “nothing in particular,” because I don’t need to succeed to be valid - do the people you love need to be successful for you to love them?  I should hope not.  However, it is not so simple for me to love myself.  Failure will cost me something more than money and a career.  The price of failure is stagnation, embracing the non-linearity of progress and I hate that.  I’m grossly impatient and want to move forward with my life, not wallow in the depths of Misery Mires.  I’ve been stuck here all my life and I’ve just begun the journey out of here.  Failure, as far as I’m concerned, you don’t suit me as well as you think.  I must change sometime because I don’t want to die in the claws of the demons from which I was born.

I can’t stay in my comfort zone.  Yet I can - I’d even quite like to.  Why?  Because...because...deep down I’m still reconciling with the idea that I’m worthy, that I’m worthy of living a life worth living, that I can be what I say I am without fear that it’s all a lie and always will be.  The only way for me to challenge such a belief is to fly in the face of it - to say that “I am worthy” and to act like I mean it, whatever that means - I don’t quite know yet.  My therapist and I agreed that this would be a long road and that ideals are nothing without practice.  I guess all I can do now is drive…

“If you aren’t worthy, you’ll keep trying until you are.”   In order for me to be worthy of my ideals, I first need to believe that I even have a shot.  Beyond that, I need to believe that I deserve to take it. Being worthy means recognising my power to change and the responsibility to act that  comes with that.  Simultaneously, my power is not all-controlling as I am only a person.  Success isn’t linear and failure is a part of that.  However the burden of trauma is heavy.  The self-sabatory habits I picked up from that will require me to reinvent my self-identity and in turn deconstruct those habits.   Lastly and perhaps most importantly, I need to be willing to give the process time.  Can I?  Haha! - s-sure, why not?

Perhaps one day I will find myself staring out into the sky - maybe it’s drizzling, maybe it’s not.  Maybe through an apartment window, maybe in a lush field as the gentle breeze brushes by.  The clouds are coasting by as they always have, slowly but surely.  What colour are they?  Who cares, I don’t even know what colour the sky will be.  Maybe it’s illuminated with a lovely peach pink that reaches out and touches the heart of my inner romantic.   Maybe it’s an apocalyptic red that leaves you weak in the knees - the possibilities are endless but it doesn’t matter - it doesn’t matter what may be.  What matters is what will be and 

I will be watching.

I’ll say I’m worthy and

I will mean it.

I don’t know yet know how

But I will

Because that’s what I’ve decided.

[vs-redemption]

Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch.21)

Chapter Twenty-One: The New Serum (HawksxGN!Reader)

A/N: Hello readers! First of all, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who is still reading/following this story! We’re nearing the end now, and I only anticipate a few more chapters. (Famous last words) Also, I’m sorry for the lack of Hawks in this one, but hopefully you are enjoying everything happening with the mad doctor!

Plot summary: You thought your hands were full as a regular quirk geneticist, but then you meet Hawks and things get even more exciting!

Warnings:  

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

Tag List: @gayforkeigo @marshmallow-witch @redflannel @toyo-shiro @elsasshole @astronomyturtle @iambashfulperson

Next Chapter : Chapter Guide

“Don’t you feel guilty helping me when your boyfriend is a hero?” Shigaraki’s piercing red glare follows you as you move around the lab underneath Jaku Hospital, constantly keeping you on edge and fearful for your life. You hadn’t anticipated having him as a regular visitor after the first encounter, but thankfully you were getting better at keeping your composure in high stress situations. Over the past few days you’d run dozens of tests and simulations using Shigaraki’s blood, and you knew you were getting closer to the day when you’d actually have to do the real procedure on the villain. You weren’t sure which possible outcome of the experiment you feared worse.

If things went well and you managed to transfer All For One’s quirk, Shigaraki would be even more powerful than before. Would there even be anybody strong enough to take him down at that point? How many people would be hurt or killed thanks to your assistance? The other scenario was if the experiment failed and Shigaraki died or his DNA became too mutated for him to function normally. That would most likely get you a target on your back with the League of Villains. But, for all you knew, they might be planning to kill you just as soon as this was all over anyway.

“I’ve hardly seen my boyfriend in weeks, except in passing,” you respond to the villain as flatly as you can while gesturing for his arm so you could take another vial of his blood. You wished Dr. Garaki would get the samples for himself, but he was currently in the second lab doing status checks on all his terrifying high end nomus. “The hero commission has kept Hawks very busy lately.”

“The hero commission, huh?” Shigaraki narrows his eyes at you before thrusting out his arm. He hated all the poking and prodding you’d been doing to his body, but knew it was the only way for him to eventually get the ultimate power he so desperately craved. That didn’t stop him from whining and complaining like a child sometimes though. “A perfect example of why I hate heroes.”

“What do you mean?” You ask as you fill up a syringe with his blood. It thankfully only took a few seconds. The less direct contact you had with the villain the better.

“They spend all their time risking their lives for other people,” Shigaraki explains as you put a bandage over the spot on his arm where you’d poked him with the needle. He started scratching at the dry, flaking skin on his neck with the chipped nails of his free hand. You’d noticed him doing this whenever he got himself agitated over something. It was a disturbing habit that you wish he’d try to control. “None of the heroes give a second thought to how they’re neglecting their families and loved ones.”

“Hmm,” you ponder over his words as you prepare a sample of the doctor’s newest concoction that he hoped would seamlessly bind Shigaraki’s DNA with All For One’s. Using the deductions of your quirk, you’d decided to start playing around with polarity of the villain’s DNA molecules. The goal was to trick the nucleotides from the two samples into bonding together more cohesively even though they were naturally non-polar.

“Perhaps there’s some truth to that,” you admit calmly, wondering if he really cared about the families of heroes when he didn’t seem to have any issue with disintegrating entire cities full of people. “And let me tell you, as a scientist, I understand your desire to want everyone to fit into perfect categories that follow the same sets of rules. There are always going to be outliers though. Some people can fit comfortably into multiple categories while others, frustratingly, seem to be in a category of their own.” You pause in your ramblings to look back at the villain who was glaring at you with enough intensity to give you chills. You force yourself to let out a small laugh before turning back to the slides you were working on. “Even though I don’t see Hawks that often right now,” you shrug, “I think he’d be there for me if I really needed him.”

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Shigaraki had an eerie smirk on his face and it was a relief to see that it seemed he had no clue about how much you actually did know.

“There are definitely secrets about myself I’m keeping from him,” you gesture between yourself and the villain to show your meaning, even though it was a lie. “So you’re probably right about that.”

Thankfully you weren’t forced to have any more small talk with Shigaraki because the doctor finally came back through the creepy hidden tunnel, looking more or less satisfied with the progress of his nomus. You knew he wished they’d move toward completion at a faster pace, but the way he was manipulating DNA was already unstable enough without trying to rush the process.

“Did you test the new serum?” he asks once he finishes locking up the secret entrance.

“Not yet,” you tell him. “I was just about to.” He comes over and watches you push the slide with Shigaraki’s blood underneath the nearest microscope before adding a small drop of the new serum to the sample. You activate your quirk and press your face against the eyepiece to observe the results in as much detail as possible. Slowly, you watched as the two DNA samples fused together. You were used to this part by now, even though it still blew your mind sometimes. The difference this time was that the merged chromosomes looked completely normal, unlike the bulky mutated ones that made up the nomus.

“I can’t believe it,” you mumble to yourself, both out of awe and fear.

“Did it work?” Shigaraki asks impatiently.

“Wait,” you shush him more aggressively than you probably should have, but the chromosomes on the slide had suddenly begun to dissolve and break apart. Before you could deliver that bad news, the broken DNA inexplicably began to reform. “Something is happening.” You continue watching for a moment as the chromosomes break and repair themselves in a constant loop. You back away from the microscope to look at the doctor, your mind already working to figure out the secret behind the phenomenon. “It worked… sort of.”

“What do you mean sort of?!” Shigaraki sounded annoyed but the doctor remained calm.

“What happened?” he asks.

“The samples blended perfectly this time,” you explain, “but it’s still unstable. The DNA is simultaneously destroying and repairing itself. Take a look.” The doctor pulls over a stool so that he can reach the microscope to peer into the lens. What he sees makes him smile and bounce on his feet with excitement. He backs away from the microscope and hops off the stool.

“I know exactly why this is happening,” Dr. Garaki was beaming. “Good news Shigaraki! I don’t think you’ll have to wait much longer now.”

As usual, you had a lot of objections, but it was pointless to try and talk him into slowing down. Shigaraki wanted his power as soon as possible, and the doctor wasn’t going to make him wait any longer than absolutely necessary. Even if it was dangerous to use the leader of the villains as the first test subject, you knew they would do it anyway.

“It’s because the DNA was able to fuse perfectly,” the doctor turns his attention to you, “All For One’s regeneration quirk must have been activated. I anticipate that this sample will continue to try and fix itself until it finds a way to stabilize.”

The mere possibility of that being true astonished you. If the doctor wasn’t a madman who planned to turn an already dangerous villain into an unstoppable force of evil, he could do so much good with the discovery you both had just made. There were so many people who suffered with self-destructive quirks that would benefit from a serum like this. You wondered if Shigaraki’s skin problems would be alleviated after the procedure.

With a regenerating serum, so many exciting possibilities had just opened up. It was just too bad that you were stuck in such a messed up situation. You’d told the doctor that you weren’t going to judge him for helping the League of Vilains with the information you gathered, but you hadn’t expected him to have you work with Shigaraki directly. It worried you that you would be forced to go through with this insane idea soon. The silver lining was that, like the nomus, Shigaraki’s procedure would probably take quite a while to complete. You had no idea exactly how long it would take for All For One’s DNA to integrate with Shigaraki’s completely, but you had to imagine rewiring someone’s genes took time. It most likely was going to be excruciating for the villain as well. You wondered if he’d even survive if his DNA was going to be destroying and repairing itself over and over again.

“What are you thinking?” Dr. Garaki’s question pulls you out of your thoughts.

“I’m thinking we can check on the progress of this sample tomorrow,” you tell him almost robotically. You couldn’t let the implications of what you were doing affect you now. You had to continue to play the morally neutral scientist. “We can try to calculate the rate of repair to see if the regeneration is even working the way you think it is. Once we know that much, we’ll probably be able to predict just how long the procedure will take to complete.”

“Good idea!” the doctor claps his hands once. “Let’s start recording as much data as we can now with your quirk so we can come up with an accurate timeline later.”

The two of you set to work while Shigaraki watches and complains about there being nothing to do. You envied him of having the luxury of his biggest concern at the moment being his boredom. There were so many worries occupying your mind at present that being bored was far from being possible. You were already dreading having to inform Hawks of everything that had happened that day. If the Hero Commission didn’t find a way to put a stop to the villains before Shigaraki’s procedure was completed, there would be no limit to the amount of destruction he’d be able to cause.

[chalabrun]

why i ship the thing: jiramada 1/2

Alright, to begin, I understand that both characters might look like the oddest crackship in the world. Except, I don't define it that way. If anything, I solidly label them as a rarepair. Why's that, you ask? Simple: Jiraiya and Madara's conflict defined the whole of Shippuden. Are you looking at me sideways, completely confused as to why I'm saying this? Good! 

Read on and see what I see what I mean. 

The Prophecy: What made Jiraiya & Madara clash

As I state below, while their disciples are the ones who square off with each other, Jiraiya and Madara's dynamic is best exemplified by the prophecy that Gamabunta gave him before he ever even met Nagato.

Ch. 376, when Gamabunta first imparted the Prophecy to Jiraiya that would go on to shape the rest of his life.

Ch. 372, Jiraiya first discovered that Nagato possesses the Rinnegan. He reflects on what he was told about the Child of Prophecy.

Ch. 606, where Madara's awakening of his Rinnegan is recalled, thereby beginning the Prophecy at all.

As we can see with these panels, the Prophecy is what begun Jiraiya and Madara's unknowing clash, that would lead them both to shape their own and each other's disciples, even if the way Madara acquired his could be more described as pawns, they still followed Madara's philosophies through him or Obito masquerading as him that would go on to shape the entire conflict of Shippuden. But, how did these disciples of theirs clash and intersect?

Chasing Parallels: The clash & intersection of their disciples

I genuinely think one of the most compelling cases for this ship is the fact that their disciples not only define the protagonists and antagonists of the story, but directly correlate with the prophecy was given by Gamabunta to Jiraiya that saw Madara himself as the antagonist. That is, the prophecy of the Child of Prophecy.

Let's take into account the students that Jiraiya had, first of all, who were labeled the child of prophecy:

Nagato

Minato Namikaze

Naruto Uzumaki

Conversely, we also have to factor Madara's own disciples, definitely including those Obito took on in Madara's name:

Nagato

Obito Uchiha

Sasuke Uchiha

Alright, but what are these three in relation to the Children of Prophecy? Where do the parallels and intersecting between Jiraiya and Madara's disciples begin?

Nagato: 

What we know from the point above is the fact that discovering the Rinnegan in Nagato was what impelled Jiraiya to take on the Ame Orphans in the first place. Three years that would prove instrumental to the plot, that would shape Nagato's worldview as influenced by Jiraiya himself. But, how did Nagato get those Rinnegan in the first place?

Ch. 606

Those eyes? They're Madara's, implanted at birth intentionally in order to keep them while Madara was waiting to be resurrected, and speculated by Minato.

Ch. 559, when Madara makes his first appearance.

Ch. 440, when Naruto met his father during his fight with Pein.

Ch. 601, where Madara and Obito discuss Nagato's betrayal.

What would go on to occur is the fact that, not only did Madara's Rinnegan cement the bond Jiraiya had with the Ame trio, but also shape them - especially Nagato - significantly. That conflict would go on to further the story in ways it wouldn't have if Jiraiya had never taken on the Prophecy and become one of Madara's most enduring yet unknown antagonists. Just as Madara would become the unseen antagonist of Jiraiya's life and his ambition connected to the Prophecy.

Minato: 

Ch. 503, when Jiraiya speculated that Minato himself might be a Child of Prophecy, too.

Ch. 502, when Obito - posing as Madara - clashes with his old sensei.

In yet another encounter, Minato - who was Jiraiya's student before the Ame trio - faces off with his former student he believes is Madara, which is fitting as Madara was one of the only known people in existence known for being able to tame bijuu with his Sharingan. Let alone being able to make a summoning contract with the infamous demon fox himself. 

Ch. 371, which is also, coincidentally, the first image of Madara shown outside the statue at the Valley of the End ever seen in the manga.

Jiraiya, too, correctly guesses this hunch that Minato made but clearly couldn't convey to Jiraiya himself on account of being dead. But, like his master, Minato correctly presumes the person he's facing is Madara even if it's not Madara himself. But, well, we all know where that goes with Obito becoming "Madara", and all... 

Naruto:

Ch. 437, when Ma calls Naruto the Child of Prophecy for the first time, something likely gleaned from Gamamaru or Jiraiya.

As the main protagonist, it's only natural that Naruto would have the most clashes out of the three, especially compared to Nagato or Minato. But still, they are notable and extremely defining. Remember to keep in mind, Nagato's path as Jiraiya's student, as someone who was shaped by him and later Madara through Obito, his encounter with Naruto is the most significant because of how much Nagato was shaped prior by the Second Shinobi World War that Madara typified in his nihilistic philosophy, then Jiraiya, then again by Madara's views through Obito. This clash - not the battle for Konoha itself - is the closest we truly come to them bridging the gap due to how untouchable Madara is by Naruto's will, which calls for this example.

But, as the main protagonist, Naruto contends with Madara's philosophy more than just once. He does it twice, in fact.

Naruto and Nagato:

Ch. 444, at the beginning of Naruto's confrontation with Pein where the clash of Jiraiya and Madara's ideals truly shines.

Ch. 602

Remember, the core of Nagato's philosophy is a closer reflection of Madara's than it is even of Yahiko's, even if Yahiko did form part of Nagato's negative worldview before Jiraiya, Madara's completed it the best. 

Ch. 372

The panel that defines Yahiko's philosophy, juxtaposed to Madara's, as shown above.

Ch. 372

Continuing on, as seen with what Naruto begins with, it's exactly the same thing that Jiraiya imparted on to Nagato after he felt guilty for killing an Iwa-nin to protect Konan and Nagato.

Ch. 444

Ch. 446

Yet, despite all this disparity between them, there were times when both teachers agreed, even if it was at both extremes of this prophetic spectrum.

Ch. 446

Ch. 602

It's a strange agreement, to be sure, but Jiraiya and Madara wanted the same endgame for the world despite how twisted Madara's methodology would come to be. One that ultimately made both clash, even if it was never directly.

Ch. 447, where Nagato and Naruto come to a proverbial draw in their battle of wills, of their teacher's will versus what Madara would come to impart on Nagato indirectly.

Ch. 448

Ch. 448

Here, we come to the penultimate moment where Madara's hold over Nagato is shattered. The dissolution of his nihilism, the clash that would see Jiraiya win.

Ch. 448, the moment when Nagato provided the inspiration for Jiraiya's titular main character in The Tale of the Gutsy Shinobi, a book that was like the prediction of what was to come in much the same way Morgan Robertson's The Wreck of the Titan would predict the Titanic's demise over 14 years earlier (even if Gutsy Shinobi is a lot more hopeful!).

Ch. 448, where the prediction of Jiraiya's first book would come true through Naruto.

Ch. 448, in what seems to wrap up the prophecy... for now, at least.

Naruto and Obito:

It's during the Fourth Shinobi World War that Naruto and Obito - Minato's student, whom was Jiraiya's before that - finally clash with each other after Obito becomes the 10-Tails' jinchuuriki. Naruto and Obito were alike, once, before Madara broke Obito and conferred upon him his nihilism.

Ch. 653, where Obito outright admits to wanting to test Naruto, to pit Madara's (that he deludes himself into thinking is his own) nihilism against Jiraiya's teaching, that bolstered and matched Naruto's hope for peace in the world. A path that Jiraiya further inspired Naruto to take.

Ch. 653

Like Nagato before him, Naruto bears an uncanny number of similarities to Obito. And like Nagato, he was someone who believed and wanted peace in the world who was indirectly inspired by Minato to seek that peace through the same teachings that Jiraiya conferred. 

Ch. 653, where Naruto explains what it means to be Hokage the opposes Obito's, a definition that didn't come from out of the blue.

Ch. 159, where Jiraiya defines what it means to be Hokage that matches Naruto's, that transfigured Naruto's initial dream of wanting to become Hokage for the sake of acknowledgment to what it really is: a shinobi who walks before his comrades and protects them.

Ch. 653

And like Nagato before him, it was through Jiraiya's teachings that Naruto was able to pull Obito from Madara's darkness and fulfill yet another leg of the Prophecy. Another battle that Jiraiya spiritually won against Madara, even after his death.

Another Intersection: "Madara" & Sasuke

"As Sasuke was the reincarnation of Indra, his was a person with a destiny that was attached to the seal of Kaguya. From the SAge of Six Paths, he awakened the Rinnegan and the key to the seal…That was the evidence of Sasuke’s heartfelt [effort] and desire in wanting to rescue the world.

While jointly struggling for a long time, outstanding cooperation was shown for the children of prophecy. As expected, it was Naruto and Sasuke, similar to being half [of each other’s] bodies."

- Fourth Databook, Sasuke entry (Scan & Translation)

As written in the 4th databook, Sasuke, too, is considered a child of prophecy and makes this intersection equally relevant. While this isn't quite an example of Jiraiya and Madara's ideals pitted against each other, I think it belongs here.

Ch. 396, when "Madara" first takes Sasuke under his wing after his battle to the death with Itachi.

Ch. 397

And here, Tobi introduces himself as Madara, yet another complicated entanglement that would lead to Sasuke, a child of prophecy, also being indirectly manipulated by Madara.

Ch. 398

Even the cover chapter art for chapter 398 emphasizes the change that "Madara" makes in Sasuke, in influencing like he had Obito before him.

Now, it's rather pointless to summarize what's said, as it essentially boils down to "Madara" telling Sasuke about the truth of his brother, the Uchiha Clan Massacre, and his own backstory. Through chapters 396 to roughly 402, in telling Sasuke the truth - much in the way it had been revealed to Obito himself before him - was he changed. Not forever, but what was made apparent was that Sasuke became aligned with "Madara", his philosophy and aims, even if it wasn't to the same extreme as Obito. 

Ch. 402, when Team Hebi becomes Team Taka.

Ch. 626, during the flashback of Hashirama telling of his past with Madara.

And like Madara before him, Sasuke seems to come full circle and inherit the same role Madara had as antagonist, adopting Madara's will.

Ch. 371

All according to "Madara's" original plan.

SNS Parallels: Sasuke as Madara, Naruto as Jiraiya

Another major crux of this analysis, aside from the Prophecy and the intersection of their ideals and disciples, is that Sasuke is likened to Madara and Jiraiya to Naruto. In breaking tradition, Sasuke isn't like Orochimaru despite being groomed as a new vessel and Naruto to Hashirama, despite Orochimaru being Jiraiya's narrative parallel and Hashirama Asura's former transmigrant before Naruto.

Sasuke was never meant to be like Orochimaru

Something made abundantly clear was the fact that Sasuke was never meant to be the next Orochimaru. Sasuke himself drives this point brutally home. 

Ch. 344, when Sasuke breaks free of Orochimaru's control.

As we see here, Sasuke himself completely rejects the notion of being the next Orochimaru, both literally and figuratively, comparing himself to a fully-fledged hawk that the snake - Orochimaru - couldn't control. Before this, he tears apart Orochimaru's character, degrading them (though, I doubt that needs to be put here).

Ch. 345

And as the chapter proves, the only way Sasuke could ever be like Orochimaru is through becoming their next host, which doesn't happen.

Ch. 346, where Sasuke is the one who is the victor and absorbs Orochimaru, overpowering them.

Simply put, where the generational parallels go, the very narrative refutes the notion that Sasuke is like Orochimaru, at all. Aside from being the level-headed geniuses of their generation, they're nothing alike and cease to ever be such a consideration. (Not that I think it's a bad thing. The fact that Orochimaru exists outside of the generational parallelism Kishimoto locked many of the characters in enhances the poignancy of their character, not diminished it, especially as such a fascinating antagonist acting of their own accord - not destiny or fate - in Part 1.)

In fact, this goes beyond just Sasuke absorbing and destroying Orochimaru. There's another noteworthy comparison to be made. Now, as I'll state below, Team 7 was meant to be the Neo-Sannin the next generation. However, the text again blows a hole in that assertion. 

Ch. 477, when Garuda first makes his debut as Sasuke's secondary summon.

As we all know, Sasuke is the only known character in the whole of Naruto with not only one, but two summons. Now, in a previous meta I've written, something that is vital to understand that is that the Sannin's summons are extremely important motifs for their characters. Not only does it tie them in to their folkloric counterparts inspired by the Tale of the Gallant Jiraiya, but it also defines many of their techniques and aesthetics (such as Jiraiya being a Toad Sage or Orochimaru's serpentine affinities and ninjutsu). However, as inheritors of their motif, Team 7 also inherited their summoning contracts with their respective sage regions, especially with specific summons (Aoda the snake for Sasuke, and Gamakichi the toad for Naruto). Again, though, a wrench is completely tossed in this motif with the introduction of Sasuke's second summon, the hawk known as Garuda. 

What's important about Garuda's inclusion and the fact that it makes Sasuke the only known person with two unique summoning contracts in the Naruto universe is the fact that Garuda's appearance correlates with this period in Sasuke's development where he moves away from being in Orochimaru's shadow to spreading his wing and becoming a hawk, closer and closer to being the next Madara, the true person he was meant to excel past.

Madara's entry, Third Databook.

Another noteworthy fact, too, is that Madara is connected to hawks through his hobby of falcontry. While it might not seem like much, with his own brother's connection to crows, it establishes a link between Sasuke and Madara that fleshes out a connection to hawks. The same hawk motif Sasuke would become better associated with, as much as Madara is, too, in many fanworks. 

Sasuke as the next Madara

However, there is one character that Sasuke is compared and considered the next iteration of, and that's Madara himself. 

Ch. 309, Kurama and Sasuke meet for the first time.

As it likely doesn't need to be said, as Kurama had once been Madara's unwilling thrall, even before the plot with Asura and Indra transmigrants, Sasuke was likened to Madara. But, it's not the only time this comparison is made.

Ch. 620, where Hashirama - Madara's childhood best friend - outright calls Sasuke out as possibly being the next Madara.

While I don't quite know the chapter, Orochimaru - the one who didn't turn out to be Sasuke's parallel - outright compares Sasuke to Madara.

Another unknown, but here, Tobirama - another lifelong enemy of Madara - further emphasizes Sasuke as being like Madara.

With Sasuke not being like Orochimaru, and admitted to being like Madara by the Sannin themselves, the verdict is clear: Sasuke is identically similar to Madara - as confirmed by his contemporaries and enemies alike. Hell, even Hashirama likens him to his younger brother, Izuna.

The verdict? Sasuke is like Madara, hands down.

Ch. 657, when Madara notes Sasuke's straight tomoe pattern in his EMS.

Unknown chapter, but Madara again notes the bond between him and Sasuke goes beyond blood.

Naruto being like Jiraiya

Ch. 245, during Naruto and Sakura's reunion, which means Tsunade and Jiraiya's as well after 2.5-3 years.

As I've affirmed above pretty exhaustively, Naruto's philosophy and ideals mirror Jiraiya's almost exactly. To the point that Tsunade, Jiraiya's long-time friend and fellow cellmate, sees Naruto as being almost exactly like him.

Ch. 430, during Naruto's return to face off against Pein

As we can see with Naruto's arrival to the battlefield of Pein's invasion, one of the first things on Tsunade's mind is how Naruto seems to manifest the very will and dreams of his predecessors by protecting Konoha - seeing the backs of Minato, Jiraiya's student, and Jiraiya's, too.

Again, an unknown chapter.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm willing to concede that, yes, Naruto has been likened to Hashirama before. While official material like this exemplifies it, I think it's important to keep in mind that Naruto being likened to the Sannin as Neo-Sannin has been around longer than the transmigrant plotbunny ever has. Let alone comparisons between Naruto to Hashirama outside of the predestined reincarnation cycle.

Essentially, given the extensive parallels between Naruto, Jiraiya, and his students, it's clear that Naruto has more parallels and ideological similarities with Jiraiya than he does with Hashirama, despite being on the same reincarnation cycle as the Senju.

More than just that, event the significant goals he failed with best parallel between Jiraiya and Naruto than Hashirama and Naruto. 

Ch. 382, when Jiraiya reflects on all the major failures in his life.

Now, with this list of failures in mind, how do they parallel Naruto so precisely?

"Tsunade turned me down every time." = Sakura, similarly, turned Naruto down despite there being a false positive. Seeing as she's Tsunade's parallel, this is damning.

"I couldn't save my friend." = Naruto, too, wasn't enough to keep Sasuke from defecting for Orochimaru.

I failed to protect my student... and my teacher." = While Naruto didn't have any students by this time, he did lose Kakashi, initially, during Pein's assault.

With this in mind, it's impossible to think that Hashirama parallels Naruto more than Jiraiya, his counterpart as a Neo-Sannin and someone whose life circumstances were uncannily similar.

But, come what may...

Ch. 690

...Naruto and Sasuke are the ones who fulfill the Prophecy, together, following in the footsteps of those who came before them. Two men who either realized, or came to terms with their failure in trying to bring world peace.

Headcanon: Rinnegan evolving from the Sharingan

Ch. 671, when the Rinnegan are awakened

So, if one considers that the Rinnegan are an evolved form of Sharingan, that could mean that they could retain some characteristics. While I can't prove anything, this is a headcanon I've had of Madara's Rinnegan for quite some time.

Unknown chapter that divulges how Sasuke could see Itachi's memories after he was transplanted with his brother's eyes.

Now, with all this in mind, in regards to Jiramada since Nagato had Madara's eyes for ~29-30 years (from the time he awoke them (likely 6-9 y/o) to his death), what if the Rinnegan could retain memories like the Sharingan can? And since Nagato's Rinnegan were invoked for well over 3 decades, couldn't it mean that they could record memories like the Sharingan? And if Madara could access those memories of Nagato's once he got his own eyes back and both Jiraiya and Madara managed to survive the war? (Who doesn't love a good Everyone Lives AU?) Well... I imagine it might be angsty, to say the least.

Ways I ship the Thing

To put it expressly, while I've petered my way through the canon connection and intricacies of Madara and Jiraiya's dynamic, in what ways would I ship them?

Everyone Lives AU: Seeing a lot of characters died that people didn't want to die in Naruto, Jiraiya and Madara meeting this way could be compelling. 

Madara caused Jiraiya a lot of grief: If there's a compelling angle to any hero/villain ship, it's the fact that Madara was responsible for a lot of Jiraiya's pain and loss through the years. Not only would meeting the other be monumental, but Jiraiya discovering how deep Madara's villainy in his life went - especially with his loved ones and disciples - could be a perfect frame for a post-war meeting & AU.

"Madara" is really Madara: An AU where Madara was really Tobi the entire time could also yield some poignant villain/hero dynamics and struggles.

Purelands: Seeing as Madara and Jiraiya both die in canon, them working through their enmity and differences in an afterlife could also be the subject of fanfic.

Gen Swap: AU's where Jiraiya was alive in WSE/Founders' Era or Madara born in the Sannin's era is also a possibility. With four canon brothers, the Madara of such an AU in the latter scenario could've easily been someone like Izuna.

Redemption: Again, Madara was opposed to Jiraiya throughout the Prophecy. Post-war Madara having to be put under a survived!Jiraiya's jurisdiction could be sweet and complex as hell.

Honestly, regardless as to how this is approached, this entire meta is my ship manifesto; the reason why I ship such an unknown but deeply compelling couple. Not only is it a facet of the tried and true hero/villain shipping trope (or, enemies-to-lovers, enemies-friends-lovers), but the depth these two have in each other is any reason to ship them beyond just acknowledging their canon parallelism as masterminds and influencers on the manga's overarching plot, in Part II especially. 

(That, and the hair... Hairpair, anyone? Oh, and the fact that Jiraiya is considered Naruto's grandfather while Madara is - typically - jokingly referred to as Sasuke's (or another family figure) and is a common fandom gag, if not taken seriously.)

Basically, this ship is deep as hell and defined a lot of Shippuden's canon despite how little it's acknowledged. 

[brighteyes-darkhearts]

I read the Iliad, the project of a sun-drenched, blood-soaked semester in Florence. I loathed Achilles. What a stupid, selfish, dishonorable man. Homer originally called the epic The Wrath of Achilles, which is a far more appropriate title, all things considered. Sixteen thousand lines of dectilic hexameter to which thousands of people have devoted countless hours of life and countless jars of ink reading, translating, pondering; a civilization destroyed, innumerable lives lost, children left father-less, all because of one terribly petty man. The most terrible part of all of it, though, is that he is right, and successful.

Achilles strove for immortality, and he achieved it.

He died over two thousand years ago and everyone in modern Western civilization still knows his name. I hated him most because I knew , I know, his name, too, and because I see myself in him and him in myself. We all want a legacy; we all want immortality. Not in the sense that we fear the deaths of our bodies, though some of us certainly do, but rather in the sense that we fear the deaths of our names. They say we all experience two deaths: the first when our bodies cease their function, the second when our name falls from someone's lips for the last time, never to be spoken again, the memory wisps of smoke, uncatchable even if someone wanted to.

People would rather go to war and fight and kill and die instead of fulfilling some kind of peaceful pastoral idealism if such happiness means they will be forgotten.

Have you ever really considered the implications of that?

Have I? Has anyone?

To have or leave or create, cultivate, curate, a legacy, one needs to have a name. Sounds obvious, no?

A name is something everyone has, the second gift we're ever given, one longer lasting than our first gift of life. Names can be terribly old fashioned and boring, staunchly traditional, wildly new age, or if one is the child of a celebrity, they can be bizarre and unfortunate.

I never thought too much about my own name until recently, except in comparison to that of my twin sister, against whose monumental combination of syllables most others pale significantly. However, as my young adult self nears the expectations of marriage and motherhood, which many my age have already fulfilled, the concept of names has been on my mind with increasing frequency. On a superficial level, this consists of thoughts like "Could I marry someone whose last name doesn't sound good with my first," or "since my children will be saddled with my husband's last name, I get to pick their first and middle." I have been informed by my mother, however , that that is, in fact, not how the partnership of marriage works.

Marital disputes aside, as I thought about having to change my name for my eventual husband's, something I had always planned on doing when I got married, and something I had never considered much of an option, I found myself developing quite a resistance to it.

Why am I the one required to upend my identity, and not my husband? As previously referenced, isn't marriage supposed to be the ultimate collaboration, a team endeavor? Sure, I can keep my name, but then I designate myself as an "outsider," an "other," concepts that shape the very foundations of the human behavioral matrix. This, in turn, led me to the whole "why" question.

Names function to provide order to society, categorizing people in a clearer way than "hey, you" for everyone we meet. They also delineate strict patrilineal origin and hierarchical status within said society, often emerging from one's trade. I am referring, of course, only to men, because up until astonishingly recently, and sometimes still today, women were considered the property of men. Women would not own property or function independently from the man to whom they belonged.

The names of women, like the names of fields and houses, denote ownership.

Even then-names are a privilege, because they provide an avenue through which one can form an identity, through which one can be remembered. Throughout history, not everyone was considered important enough to warrant remembering. Enslaved people on plantations in the American south were not given last names of their own; they had to create them themselves or take on those of their owners, and with it, a clear signifier of their forced place in society. Considering the last names of Jewish Europeans both unnecessarily difficult and too clear a sign of the identities they sought to erase, Nazi Germany renamed millions of the Jews they killed or enslaved with unconsidered combinations of nouns and adjectives- Rosenberg, pink mountain, or Gardenschwarz, black garden. The immigration operatives of Ellis and Angel islands did the same to thousands of newcomers whose names they did not want to attempt to spell, so here, you take “Smith,” and you get “Jones.” Your connection to family history and national culture? You won’t need those here. Welcome to America.

Our names are the greatest gifts our parents can give us, planting us firmly within family lineages or tying us to historical figures and concepts; again, another moment in which the memory of another is re-embodied to continue its arduous trek towards immortality. We become our names as we mature, growing into or out of them. There were several options for my own name floating around before I was born, all of which seem entirely inappropriate and unfitting now, though occasionally I feel nostalgic for the Gracen I could have been but never was, a multiplicity of personalities never given the chance to realize themselves. Friends of mine whose names were mercilessly anglicized have slowly begun to reclaim them in their original, intended forms, building back conversation by conversation, introduction by introduction, the bridges back to who they are, who their parents named them to be, the cultures and histories from which they come.

Perhaps, in contemporary society, none so acutely feel the pain that names can bring than members of the trans community. Claiming their true name as an act of courage and authentic life in the cool sunlight of every morning and having to defend it in every hour that follows, having to suffer, too often in silence, the sting of a deadname used by those with no empathy or understanding or common sense in their hearts. Sometimes, the names our parents give us are simply wrong, and reclaiming our true names, those given from the deepest depths of truth at the core of our hearts, is the greatest gift we can give ourselves, and the utmost respect we can give to others.

Identity is a smoky concept to pin down concretely, but names are the first iteration of this idea, translating conceptuality into physical manifestation. It should come as no surprise, then, that our names are the first to go whenever someone seeks to dehumanize. Ayn Rand bestows upon all her characters a litany of numbers, distinct but uninspired, parts of a machine, easily replaced, insignificant.

Names are dangerous, because they allow for and support the construction of an individualized consciousness. There is no greater threat to oppression than a fully realized, highly actualized, wildly individualized consciousness. We most certainly cannot be the masters of our fate or the captains of our souls if we don't even know who we are.

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 81: Turning a Corner

Presenting the next installment of my on-going, nextgen, MHA fic! Earlier chapters can be found here

The instant Katsuki had asked to “borrow” Park for a bit, the Shiketsu students had erupted into chaos. Shida looked on the verge of panic, those extra limbs of hers twitching, while Tsuchikawa looked only slightly worried.  Shinji looked nervously between him and Park, but ultimately settled into a kind of hard look that mixed protectiveness of his classmate with a trust in Katsuki.

Smart kid.  Respectful too.  Always used his Sir’s around Katsuki.  Exuberant as his old man though, which meant he was best in small doses.

It wasn’t surprising that Tatsuma was the one who had a problem with it.  The giant girl stepped between Katsuki and Park protectively.  “With all due respect, sensei” she began, in the same way Katsuki had used countless times over the years, where no respect was actually intended, but the performative aspect of it was required, “I’m not sure I should allow you to be alone with my classmate.”

For fuck’s sake, what kind of monster did these kids think he was?  And sure, he’d spent more than enough time threatening to blow Villains apart, or shove their heads up their asses, or take out enough of their teeth that they’d be drinking from a straw the rest of their lives, but he wasn’t some psycho who’d explode at the drop of a hat!

Just because he was known for having a temper and this little brat had beat the shit out of his daughter was no reason to think he was going to enact some kind of brutal revenge!

“Sticking by your friend’s a good quality to have,” he said, holding Tatsuma’s gaze and not backing down in the slightest.  But neither did he put up any more of aggressive posture than he already was. He was here to build bridges, not burn them.  “Your classmates are lucky to have you looking out for them.  But I promise you, I’m not here to dish out punishment or anything like that.  I just want to talk.  We won’t even go far, in case you hear something that makes you want to come running.”

Tatsuma frowned, but dropped her challenging stance.  She looked over at Park, her eyes seeming to ask what do you want to do?

And that was the scary thing, wasn’t it?  Park hadn’t flinched, hadn’t budged.  She’s shown no fear whatsoever.  But she hadn’t shown any other kind of reaction either.  It was as though she was just resigned to whatever happened to her.  What the hell had they done to this girl?  Who the hell had done this to this girl?  Even with what he’d read in her file, it didn’t all add up to this.

“It will be fine,” Park said.  “There’s nothing he can do to me.”   That hasn’t already been done was left unsaid, but Katsuki heard it hanging in the air all the same.

He had worked with Heroes who fought traffickers and some of the worst scum the world had to offer, serial killers, rapists, and even cannibals.  Some of them managed to find the balance separate themselves from the job and live at least something like a normal life.  But some of them saw the worst and lost a part of themselves to it. Something inside them died.  You could see it in their eyes.

Park’s eyes were the same.

***

Park followed quietly behind Katsuki, stopping when he did once they got closer to one of the compound’s utility sheds. She remained stoic, almost uncaring, but there was an element of readiness.  He’d been on the receiving end of any number of lectures and chewing outs over the years. He knew what it looked like when you knew you were getting one of those.  This wasn’t it.

It was the kind of readiness where you were prepared to, at a moment’s notice, either physically defend yourself or hold yourself to a dignity that would not give your attacker satisfaction.  He had a brief flashback to being violently restrained and muzzled at his first Sports Festival.

“I am ready, seon seang nhim,” she stated in a neutral tone. She used the Korean phrase for “teacher,” which he vaguely recalled included not using the teacher’s name as it was considered disrespectful to show familiarity.

Katsuki frowned, briefly, but forced himself to keep a more professional expression.  As much as part of him wanted to tear into this kid for beating his daughter, that wasn’t something an adult did to a child.  It wasn’t something a teacher did either.  Katsuki would have to ask the damned hobo how he’d kept himself from killing kids like him.

“Okay,” he said, carefully. His anger rose up in him, like a threating to spill out like a bomb, but he forced it back down.  “I’m not going to lie to you.  I’m mad as hell.  And I’m not saying there wasn’t blame to go around.  But I want to hear your side of things first, before anything else.”

“There is nothing to tell,” Park explained plainly. “The arrogant one had us fight each other to demonstrate a lack of practical martial training as some sort of lesson in not becoming arrogant with our quirks. I treated it as I would any fight in the line of duty.” She tilted her head back at where Hokori and the other Shikestsu students still were. “By the instructor’s own logic, I acted accordingly. If anything, I exercised restraint.” She said all this was stone cold logic, but the expression on her face indicated she didn’t expect him to accept that logic.

Park’s description of Boost-Rush as “the arrogant one” nearly had Katsuki laughing.  If that wasn’t the truth!

“You get you’re a student, right?” he asked. He was trying not to be sarcastic, but some of that bled through. “There’s giving your all in training and there’s going all out in the field.  And even with that, there’s proportionality of a threat.”

His own words came back to haunt him again, ringing in his ears.  HE WON’T DIE IF HE DODGES!

That wasn’t who he was anymore.  Not most days, anyway.  He pushed that particularly unsettling memory down.  “Is that how you do your training at Shiketsu?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “No, I learned that by simply surviving in the neighborhood my parents were dumped in when they fled the Humanist bigots back home. They didn’t realize they would be even less welcome here. Some were very explicit in their disdain of our presence.”

She was speaking calmly, but there was the barest hint of a murderous rage in her eyes, simmering and growing steadily, the lid barely holding it back.

Katsuki knew all about rage. His is irrational, a fire that flares up like one of his explosions and takes out everything that’s nearby.  It’s a flashfire anger, lashing out at whatever upsets him, whatever perceived wrongs the universe or some specific individual has committed against him.  It’s rarely as justified as he’d like to pretend it is.

On his good days, he’s tamed his.  He learned to use it, fueling his actions in battle.  Outside of that, the worst he usually gets these days is yelling. There’s times, like earlier with Boost-Rush, where he did lose his control, and unleashed his anger on someone through violence.  But it’s not like before, not like when he was a child, where would sometimes vent his anger on Izuku for perceived slight of challenging his status as “top dog.”

He hadn’t been a rich kid, like Glasses or Ponytail or IcyHot.  But he’d been remarkably well off as a kid.  Nice neighborhood, never had to worry about anything.  The struggles this kid or others like her had faced, he couldn’t have begun to imagine.  And add being an immigrant on top of that…

“You had to fight just to survive,” he said.  It wasn’t a question.

She stared at him for a moment, then lifted her shirt slightly above her waist. This revealed the scar of a deep gash.

“That was at the hands of Japanese motorcyclists who objected to a “chon” being in their neighborhood.” She turned and exposed her lower back, which revealed a series of jagged scars. “A Zainichi gang leader ran barbed wire over my back for “drawing the Japanese back on us.”

She then kicked off her shoe, leaned down and took the sock off, revealing her little toe was missing. “And that was some of my own “countrymen,” gangsters who wanted me to join them for “solidarity.” I refused. They beat me, then cut that off as a reminder not to be a “race traitor.” And none of that accounts for the casual racism and hate from the “polite aspects” of society. A police force that doesn’t care unless the public outside knows about it, along with no pros to look after my people when this country offered “sanctuary” to us, so yes, Teacher,” she said in Japanese this time, but without the implication of respect. “I have.”

With great effort, Katsuki kept himself under control as Park went through her litany of injuries and injustices.  She was no older than Katsumi or the others, but in terms of life experience, may as well have already been an adult Pro-Hero for all the horrors she had seen.  No wonder she was so ready to strike out during simple training exercises.  The school of hard knocks had nothing on her.

It made his blood boil. Kids should get to be kids, not have to worry about gangs and their neighbors threatening their lives and bodies.   He knew that things had improved some in the last few years, but the Hero Public Safety Commission was still playing a light hand with making inroads to minority neighborhoods.  The really good Heroes went wherever they were needed, but they still played it light with actual Agencies.  That this shit was still happening and no one was really doing anything about it..!

“You got dealt a shit hand,” he growled.  “A kid, no, a woman your age, shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that.  But you survived and showed them you’re tougher than anybody who tried to kick you down.”

He gestured around, broadly. “Most of the kids here, they grew up with pretty cushy lives.”  He thought of Katsumi, when Eijiro had been beaten within an inch of his life.  Of Sato and his kid, when they’d lost his wife. Of Izumi’s infected with a debilitating influence as a means to hurt her grandfather.  Of the small, but still somehow too great a number of close calls, when Villains had tried to cross lines and come after their families.  Of the myriad others who had to worry about whether or not mom or dad was coming home.  

“Not always easy.  And not without their own tragedies.  But you’re operating from a whole different perspective.  Not one they’d understand easily, and not one you’re obligated to explain to them.”

Katsuki continued.  ���I was an angry kid too.  Ready to take on anything and everything that pissed me off. I had legitimate issues that were driving my anger.  But I didn’t have real reasons for being angry. I invented them, lies I told myself about why it was okay to be so anger.  But you, you have real reasons.  And don’t let people tell you otherwise.”

He looked her straight in the eye.  “But you’ve got to use that anger.  Direct it at the right people.  And the people at this camp aren’t it.  Everybody’s here to get better.  Everybody’s here because they want to be a Hero and help people.”   He frowned.  “And yeah, my kid was ready to pick a fight with your classmate.  Or you.  She knows she screwed up.”  

It was a good thing he couldn’t share the details of this conversation with Katsumi.  She’d have been pissed at him for admitting that, even if it was the truth.  Or at least, an approximation of it.  She knew it was a bad decision.  Whether or not she’d internalized it as a screw up was a different question.

“I can’t change what happened to you, personally, or to your people or neighborhood.  My job’s to help put you on the best path to being a Hero. And I can’t do that if you’re treating your fellow students or instructors like they’re the enemy.”

He’d managed to get through that without yelling once.  Impressive. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age

She hadn’t gone to put her sock back on. Instead she’d listened to all of what he had to say. It was obvious she’d been expecting a variety of directions for this conversation to go: an angry lecture, threats, self-righteous condemnation, head-in-the-dirt denial, but hadn’t been prepared for acceptance or validation. Especially given his reputation for a short fuse and quick judgements. She’d paid attention to all of it, but had made no movements, nods, or sounds to indicate her stance.

When he finished, Park was quiet for a long time. Unknowingly she had begun to hold her cross in her hand, a thumb rubbing across the metal.

“I..I know, but..it’s so hard.” There was the tiniest of breaks in her voice, but she composed herself. She reached down to put her sock back on, probably distract herself from her conflicting feelings.  “I’m used to seeing enemies on all sides.”

“It is,” he agreed. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Walking around with all that anger, even with plenty of therapy, it’s something I deal with every damn day. It’s something I’ve got to constantly be aware of, be on guard against.  I find healthy outlets.  Or, at least, mostly healthy ones.”

He thought back to some of the conversations he’d had with Eijiro over the years, questioning whether he was a good enough person to deserve love and family.  Of long talks with Izuku, about all the wrongs he’d done to him.  Of the making amends part of his therapy and the long time he’d spent grappling with realizing he’d been chasing after a goal without ever truly understanding what it meant.

“There’s days I don’t do that good of a job,” he said, finally.  “The internet’s full of clips from times I lost it.  But I don’t stop trying.”

Park had long since put her sock and shoe back on and was once more listening. She had resumed fiddling with her cross, but not quite as frantically as before.

“Outlets.” She spoke the word with a familiarity that indicated she had heard it multiple times before now. “My parents have tried to find such things for me. A friend of my father’s instructed me in Yongmudo since I was small. Such things have been known to instill discipline, peace of mind, and perhaps even an “outlet.” In truth it just gave me a means to start fighting back. I “want” peace, Teacher, but to strike at those who wronged you...feels very good.” She squeezed the cross, hard enough that he saw her knuckles turn white. She chuckled bitterly.  “Probably what drew them to me to begin with.”

“Them?” he asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.  Was someone using Park?  It only took him a few seconds to connect the dots.  He may have been a brawler at heart, but not for nothing did he have an investigative record second only to Tintin’s.  “The Commission.  Dammit, I thought Hawks had all those programs shut down!”

Park gave him a confused look. “I’m not sure what you mean, but yes, your Hero Commission. I had been rounded up more than once by police for getting in fights with local thugs, but nothing on my record. So I thought anyway. One day a Japanese man in a suit knocks on our door and asks to speak with me. He knows who I am, apparently from the police, and asks me “How would you like to take them down legally?”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “Of course I knew these were the bastards who left us without Heroes to protect us. The same ones who unleashed Ignition on Chinese civilians. All the same, they were also the only ones who could arrange Pro protection in the future. I love my family, my community...if it meant working with them, then I would do it. Our neighborhood is poor, purposely nondescript, no way for the big schools to notice. So they arranged for my name to end up on Shiketsu’s radar.”

She shook her head, a rue smile actually crossing her lips. She said some words in Korean, caught herself, then said, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’ve only ever told my parents and Chie.”

“It must be my winning bedside manner,” he said, putting on a small smile of his own.  He was still going to give that bird-brained Deputy Commissioner a piece of his mind, even if the programs didn’t sound quite the same. It was still predatory as hell.  

“But that’s a good goal,” he said.  “Sounds like you’re doing it for the right reasons.”  Maybe a little revenge, but it still sounded to his ears like she wanted to help, to make a difference, more than she wanted to hurt.   She was sticking up for people who didn’t have anyone else.  Izuku’d like that.  “So I’ll cut you a deal…  You’ve got my permission to walk away from anything here, anytime you get too mad to function.  But in exchange, you’ve got to talk to somebody after, and you’ve got to stop trying to beat the stuffing out of my students.”

Park looked visibly shocked, the first time her usual composure had completely cracked. She was clearly not used to Japanese people in authority being on her side. For the first time since the conversation had started, she finally seemed to show her age.

“Teacher,” she stops, realizing she was using Korean phrasing. “Sanada Sensei in Shiketsu has actually been trying to get me to see their counselor. I have refused every time.” She seemed to think for a moment. “Maybe I should reconsider that.”

At the mention of beating up his students, she closes her eyes. They seem to vibrate a bit, closing them had been a means of hiding intense emotions. A hand squeezed her cross tightly. There was the very smallest hint of wetness to her eyes, but it was brief. Park opened her eyes again.

“I can do that.”

***

Isamu gulped, not for the first time.  Aizawa-sensei made him nervous on a good day, when he was just being his usual brooding self at Class 1-A.  He made him even more nervous when he was giving him direct attention, like what was happening now.  Like several other students, he’d been pulled aside for one-on-one, individualized or small group training.

“You’re getting good with your Quirk,” Aizawa said, flatly.  “Your father must have taught you well.”  Was it just his imagination or was there a little more warmth in his voice when he said that?

“As best he could, Sensei,” Isamu said quickly.  “Though he never got good enough with it for Hero work.”  Why would he say that?!

Aizawa gave him a flat look, one eyebrow slightly raised.  “You really want to dance around this, kid?  I know you know that I know.  Maybe not everything, but enough.  Your parents were pains in my ass, but they did good work.  Especially the Sky Egg.”

This wasn’t a surprise. But it was a surprise to be talking about it so openly.  Sure, he was the kid of a couple of Vigilantes, not Heroes like just about everyone else here.  And sure, Aizawa had worked with his parents multiple times, as had Midnight.  So it wasn’t like he really thought he was hiding anything.  At least not from them.   Deku had figured it out too.  And there were probably more people he hadn’t figured out.  But he hadn’t told any of his friends.  He trusted them, didn’t think it would come back to bite him in the ass.  It was just… something known but not talked about.

“Ah, thank you, Sensei.” That seemed like the proper response. And he didn’t even incur another round of foot in mouth disease.  “I’ll tell him you said that.”

Aizawa gave him a look. “You’ll do no such thing.”

Isamu gulped.

“All of which means I’ve got a pretty good idea of what your Quirk’s capable of,” Aizawa went on. “Yours is like his.  Almost identical, but subtly different if you know what you’re looking for.  I’m surprised Deku didn’t figure it out, honestly. But since you think you’ve got an identical Quirk, you’re limiting yourself.  He figured out ways to use his propulsion offensively and even for short bursts to launch himself, but you’ve already mastered all those tricks.  I’ve even see you firing repulsion blasts without having to brace yourself.  You don’t actually need three points of contact.  And I’ve seen you launch yourself during training too and steer yourself once you’re in the air.  So I want you to try something.”

There was, perhaps, a slightly maniac look in his teacher’s eyes.  “You’re going to fly.”

Isamu gulped yet again and his eyes went wide.  “Sensei?” He definitely couldn’t fly.  He could use a repulsion burst to launch himself and steer a little in the air, even keep himself from too bad of a landing, but he definitely couldn’t fly.   Could he?

Dad has said that he’d been able to slide through the air as a baby.  He’d even been able to recover something like it with boosts through the air. But that was really just not falling, not flying.  Wasn’t it?

He managed a nod. “Okay,” he said.  “I’ll try it.  What do I need to do?”

“Unfortunately,” Aizawa said, “I’m not allowed to just push you off the roof of the compound.  Sink or swim tactics work wonders.”

That was a joke, right? He had to be joking about that! Someone tell him Aizawa was joking!

His teacher’s expression betrayed no hint of emotion.  “So instead, what I want you to do is concentrate your power on pushing against the ground under your feet and the air under your hands.  You’ll need steady output from all four limbs to control it.”

Right.  He could do that.  He could do that.  He could probably do that.  He could possibly do that.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on his Quirk.  Just like when he was sliding along.  Energy out from his feet, energy out from his hands.   Steady, smooth, power.  

Nope!  Not steady!  Too much power flared from his feet and launched him into the air.  Cursed laws of physics!  Isamu cut his Quirk, but it was like trying to stop a bullet after it had already left the gun.  His arms and legs flailed uselessly as he launched skyward, until gravity began to reassert itself and drag him back down. Aizawa wouldn’t just let him go splat, would he?

Boy, was that a stupid question.  

So he had to save himself!

He scrunched up his eyes and concentrated on his Quirk again.   Steady, consistent, power.

Isamu felt the energy flow from all his limbs again, the pressure fairly equal.  Quickly, he realized he wasn’t falling.  His eyes snapped open.  His was only a few feet off the ground, but he was holding himself up in the air, unsteadily.  Trails of blue-white energy from all his limbs filled the air.  He kept his hands pointed carefully down, using them for stabilizing bursts while his feet provided the thrust.  

“Whoa!”  It was extremely unsteady.  His head was already beginning to hurt from concentrating so hard.  But he was doing it!  

And just as easily as it had come about, his concentration wavered and his power faded.  He hit the ground with a soft thump, landing on his butt. Isamu looked up to see Aizawa standing over him, offering a hand up, but also smirking knowingly.  Isamu took it.

“Good,” Aizawa said. “Keep practicing that.  I’ll send Ground Zero over later if you’re still having trouble.  His explosive-powered flight is similar.”

He needed to get very good. Immediately.

And he really needed a conversation with his friends.

***

Kimiko was fuming. Lunch had ended and they hadn’t even been able to begin the big shipping operation!  Even worse, it was entirely possible they wouldn’t get to do it at all! She hadn’t been able to tell what anyone was saying, but it sure looked like Koda and Aoyama had had a major heart-to-heart.  And since it hadn’t ended with any slaps or either of them walking away in tears, it was probably good news!

Which was, in and of itself, a good thing.  Koda definitely deserved all the happiness in the world.  She was probably the sweetest person that Kimiko knew.  And Aoyama was… not exactly a friend, but someone she was definitely friendly with.  Even if he didn’t particularly like Takuma, he was good people under the fancy-pants attitude.  Plus he loved listening to gossip and always had the best dirt on foreign celebrities. If they got together, it was a good thing!

But she didn’t know!  And since she didn’t have her phone, she couldn’t even share her speculation!  There was major league gossip going on and not only couldn’t she share it, but she didn’t even know the full story!

What was the world coming to?!

So many of Class 1-A was dating now!  Midoriya was dating Sora Iida, Takuma was dating Tensei Iida, Mineta was dating Yoarashi, Shoji had his girlfriend Shiryoku from the Business Course, Kaminari was apparently dating Monoma (What?  What was the story there?!  Why didn’t she know any details?!), Haimawari was dating Tetsutetsu, Koda and Aoyama were a maybe, and she was dating Kenta!

So that left… Kirishima-Bakugo, Kocho, Tokoyami, and Shinso, right?  Todoroki wasn’t interested in romance or sex, her loss, but Kimiko could respect boundaries. Sometimes.  And she wasn’t even sure what kind of people Shinso was interested in. He was only about six months younger than most of them, but he sometimes seemed like a kid by comparison.

None of which was relevant to the task in front of her.  Namely, personal medical training with the Metabolic Hero: Bioshock!

“Eri, ah, Doc Clock, sent me over files on everything she’s been teaching you,” Bioshock explained. “Including all the scores from your practice tests.  She’s definitely proud of you.”

Kimiko felt a smile spread across her face.  She’d actually really been applying herself to her medical studies.  Schoolwork didn’t come easily to her, but this was definitely worth it.

“So, pop quiz,” Bioshock said.  “Best way to treat a broken arm in the field?”

This one was easy. “If there’s bleeding, use a sterile dressing to stop it.  If there’s no skin puncture, use my Quirk to assess the extent of the break.  After either one, immobilize, construct a splint if possible.  Once I’ve gotten them to safety, ice packs can help with the swelling.”

He nodded. “Good.  And what’s the most important thing to keep an eye out for when doing search and rescue?”

She knew this one!   “Structural stability and my own safety. Don’t want to make a problem worse and I can’t help anyone if I need someone to rescue me!”

Bioshock nodded again.  “Good,” he said.  “And where in the body would you find a squeedily spooch?”

Panic gripped Kimiko’s heart as she realized she didn’t know the answer to that.  Squeedily spooch… squeedily spooch... what the heck was a squeedily spooch?!

She frowned as she realized he was struggling not to laugh.  “Hey!  That’s not fair!”  Her arms waved wildly through the air as she voiced her displeasure.  He was a teacher, so she couldn’t actually hit him like she would Kenta or Takuma, but… “There’s no such thing as a squeedily spooch!  You can’t just make stuff up like that!  What the heck is wrong with you?!  WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!”

The Rookie held his composure for a moment longer, before breaking into laughter.  “Sorry, sorry,” he said.  “I shouldn’t laugh, but I just wanted to see what you’d do…   Which reminds me, actually, I’ve got a theory about your Quirk…”

He was cut off as a shrill alarm cut through the air.  Bioshock’s face instantly went serious as he looked around.

“Perimeter breach!  Perimeter breach!”  An electronic voice sounded in the space between alarms.

“Come with me,” Bioshock said.  He was clearly trying not to let his worry show. “I’ll get you to the compound…”

If I can was left unsaid.

***

The second the alarms went off, the Rookies and teachers leapt into action, with a speed that would have impressed just about any Hero, forming a defensive circle around the U.A. students.    Uncle Kacchan set off small explosions on his palms, working himself up into the agitated state needed to sweat and use his power to its fullest.  Aizawa unraveled his capture cloth and lifted his goggles to cover his eyes.  Super-Ball dropped into a fighting stance, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet, his rubberized features set into grim determination.    

Ravenous unleashed several of his Binging Balls, the chomping spheroids floating about him like small planets orbiting the sun.  Small puffs of thrust flared from Boost-Rush’s arm pipes.  Bezoar dropped to all fours, his canon emerging from his mouth as he swept the tree line.  Aunt Mahoro pulled a small metal cylinder from her belt, which expanded into a staff.

Aunt Mahoro looked back, as though wanted to assure them that it was going to be okay.  She waved a hand in their direction and the world went a hazy green.  She had to have cast some kind of illusion over the twenty-odd students, probably making the training field look like they weren’t there at all.  Most of them had been on the main grounds, working on their Quirks.  The Shiketsu students, Ojiro, and about a dozen others had been elsewhere on the grounds, receiving their own training.

“We’ll stop or hold off whatever it is,” Toshi heard Aizawa say. Was he imaging it, or was his teacher’s voice shaking?  “You’ve all got full permission to use your Quirks to escape or fight off anything that tries to stop that escape.  The other Rookies are either on their way or protecting your classmates.

As it was, Toshi felt his heart racing in his chest.  A quick glance around revealed a sharp divide in reactions.  Some, like Kocho, along with members of Class 1-B like the bat-like Koumori and Kaniyashiki looked worried, but not overly frightened. They probably even wondered if this was just a test or one of Aizawa’s famous “logical ruses.”  It was absolutely a reasonable reaction to the presence of danger.  But they were all also Hero-students, quickly pushing past it to at least take up basic defensive stances, some of them calling up their Quirks.

The kids who had Hero parents reacted differently.  There was fear first.  They’d all been told the stories of what had happened during their parents’ first training camp.  The injuries. The kidnapping.  The fact that the League of Villains had nearly killed so many of them.  Would have killed so many of them, if not for a lot of luck.  Haimawari too, was reacting similarly.  His experiences between the Internship and the incident on I-Island had stirred up a great deal of courage in his friend, but also shown him how bad things could get very quickly.

This was supposed to have been a safe place.  The world was supposed to have been a safer place. The worst Villains had been faced and defeated.  And yes, it still needed Heroes, still needed people to stand up and say “I am here!” in the fight against evil.  But the past was not supposed to repeat like this.  

Their parents had fought hard so that their lives would not be as filled with trauma.

Already, the Nomu incident has put a lie to that.   Was it becoming even more of one?  Some of them had been tested in that, scarred, made afraid.  Some of them had been spared, aware of the terror but not a part of it.  

The fears of the past rose up to claim them.

But beneath the fear was grim determination.  Katsumi was already scowling, putting herself in front of Izumi.  Asuka had deployed Frog-Shadow and she and Haimawari had both put themselves around Shota.  The Twins looked ready to take off at a moment’s notice.  Tetsutetsu had transformed her arms to metal.  One by one, everyone was activating their Quirks. Even Kocho was extending her wings.

“I don’t need you to protect me, dammit!” Kaminari snapped, pushing Monoma so that she was standing shoulder to shoulder with him, instead of behind him.

Monoma himself looked very pale.  If Toshi didn’t know better, he’d swear the other boy was shaking. He didn’t have any of his support items with him, Toshi realized.  “I.. I was just trying to…”

“Look,” Kaminari said. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m a big girl.”

If ever there was a sign of how seriously his classmates were taking this, it was that Mineta did not make a joke about Kaminari’s statement.  Even Sero was quiet.  This was deadly serious.

“Do you think we are really under attack, Toshi?” Sora asked.

“Quit yapping, all of you!” Katsumi snapped, before he could answer.  Toshi recognized her body language.  Feet planted, knees slightly bent, arms out, fists clenched.  She was spoiling for a fight.  That was Katsumi all over.  Always spoiling for a fight.  After the beating she’d taken, he suspected she was looking for a target even more than usual.  He hoped and prayed that she had the good sense to recognize the odds were very good they were outmatched.

“This is bad,” Fukidashi whispered.  The animated girl’s face had gone blue and covered with hashlines.  “The background music’s getting really scary!”

***

For just a moment, Katsuki was fifteen again.  An arrogant, hot-headed kid with too much rage and an inferiority-superiority complex he won’t even begin to really unpack until he’s failed his Provisional License Exam, and won’t have finished unpacking until…  Well, it’s a work in progress.  But he’s back there, more than twenty-five years ago, thinking that Villains—murderers like Muscular and Dabi, master criminals like Mister Compress, deathrow inmates like Moonfish—don’t stand a chance against his barely trained ass.

He was wrong.  So wrong.  He was captured, perceived as a Villain, with All Might unable to properly fight because he was there.  And then he had to live with the shame of having to be rescued.  Of knowing that Izuku would stage a rescue for him, when he definitely wouldn’t have done the same.  He’d have let those Villains have the “worthless Deku.”

The knowledge of how much of a shit child he was still fills him with shame.

But here and now, even broken and bowed, he will not allow the same thing to happen to his daughter and her classmates.  He’d be cold and dead before he allowed that to happen.

“Just heard from the others,” Mahoro said.  “Sandblast and Locksmith are with the Shiketsu students.  Petal Princess and Lady Luminous are with the other students, and my brother and his student are hooking up with them.  Everyone’s accounted for.”

Boost-Rush tapped the side of his helmet.  “Getting data from the security feed…whatever it is, it’s coming up on us.  It’s managed to evade or disable our entire security system.”

“Any chance it’s a false alarm?” Fujii asked.  The rubberized Hero wasn’t joking.  It was a genuine statement.  “Nobody should know the students are here.”

“No one was supposed to know the first time either,” Aizawa snapped.  “Don’t let your guard down.”  Bakugo had to give the hobo credit.  Even in his mid-fifties, he still looked more than ready to kick anyone’s ass who trifled with his “kids.”

“Not a chance,” Mahoro said. “Hatsume and Shield designed all of it. But if it’s not an attack on them, it’s an attack on us Rookies.”

Either way, it wasn’t good.

There was a rustling in the grass of the tree line and suddenly, something emerged.  At first, he didn’t see anything, until he looked down.

“What the fuck?”

It was a… dog?  A Shiba Inu, if he was any judge.  

“What the fuck?”

Not just a dog, he realized. A dog wearing clothes.  It had on a dog-version of a Shiketsu uniform, complete with a peaked cap that its ears were poking through, and a backpack.

“What the fuck?”

The dog looked around and seemed to smile.  There was a strange, human intelligence to his eyes.  Eyes that finally fell on Bakugo, the other teachers, and the Rookies.

“Hi!” the dog said. “I’m Hachi Inuzaki from Shiketsu! Sorry I missed the bus!  It took me forever to get here!”

Katsuki felt like someone had just punched him in the face.  Aizawa, Fujii, and the Rookies were equally dumbfounded.

“What,” he said, “and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck?”

[astronomicalterror]

NOTE - This bio is a HUGE Work in Progress. Certain things may change, and other bits may seem rushed.

)▬▬ BASIC INFO ▬▬(

• Name: Stevie Annah Nicks

• Nicknames and Aliases: Anna, Savannah

• Species: Human

• Powers: Stand- Isis [Egyptian Goddess Stand]

• Alignment: True Neutral

• Date of Birth: December 13th

• Gender: Female

• Hometown: Tokyo, Japan

• Relatives: Unnamed Father [DECEASED; Died from Brain Cancer], Unnamed Mother [DECEASED; Murdered]

• Occupation: Shipping Company Owner [Former], Gambler [Currently]

• Equipment: Sewing Scissors and Thread

• Status: Alive

▪︎ Part 3 - Age : 33

▪︎ Part 4 - Age : 45

▪︎ Part 5 - Age : 47

▪︎ Part 6 - 56

• Stand Name - Isis

• Stand Power - Red String Manipulation: User can create, shape and manipulate the red string of fate, an invisible conceptual string that bonds souls together. They can create an limitless amount of red strings and extend them at any distance and the strings never tear apart, as it is practically indestructible. They can make the red strings become visible and touchable for others, and also choose to apply changes to anyone’s soul, and as well control the relationship of those bonded by the strings, or even completely remove their bond.

▪︎ Stand Stats

Power - D [Not “Attack” wise; This is catered to the effectiveness of Isis]

Speed - B

Range - A

Durability - D

Precision - A

Potential - B

▬▬ PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION ▬▬

• Height: 5’9’’

• Weight: 162 LBs

• Body Shape: Hourglass

• Natural Hair Color: Platinum Blonde

• Dyed Hair Color: N/A

• Eye Color: Blue

• Ethnicity: Japanese American

• Skin Tone: Porcelain

*TOLD IN FIRST PERSON POV ONLY FIR THIS PART.*

▬▬ Back Story ▬▬

My father was a respectable man. A archeologist. And I, a archeologists’ eldest daughter and heir of his company, his golden girl. He not only owned a shipping company, he was a close relative of a museum curator, and also cared for the museum in Alaska– where we were often stayed at in the summer. As his heir, I was expected to learn much and so, I had my own private tutor once I was able to be home schooled.

When summer came to pass, we went back Tokyo. In Tokyo, I saw paintings in an art exhibit. I fell in love with their design, and took up the hobby of painting. I practiced and practiced, giving father and mother small gifts every once in awhile. He made it clear that I should not interact with the outside world all too often, as he believed it'd distract me from my studies after mother had passed away from a hate related crime; I was mixed between Japanese and American, bad blood from the second world war still remained. I, unknowst to him, was using this as a means of coping with grief, with trauma that had sparked my abilities; I always wished to alter the past, to manipulate Fate itself [though I hadn't known it was fate at that time] to save my mothers life. I was about 6 at the time I first noticed my abilities. All the same, my father would oftentimes sneak out my supplies, leaving my projects vastly unfinished.

He did however, notice I had begun training my eye for the paint right after passing through the store on multiple occasions, and dreading with his daughter would whip up next. I could see things you wouldn’t believe; Red strings connected to every little thing with little dates etched into them, peoples lives… For as long as I could remember, I could see everything of this nature just dangling freely for me and only me to observe. I treasured these moments the most, this innocence in my abilities. Most of my paintings reflected things I saw in people's lives.

I can remember everything so vividly down to an exact date and exact time in which my marriage that lasted a month or so, was quick to fall apart. I had just gotten into the gambling scene heavily at 24 years old and, undoubtedly so, I had made friends as well as enemies. It was no secret I was a rich mans daughter and heir that simply had too much time and cash on their hands to blow it all so I became a center of attention. My true gambling addiction began to grow from the time I was 16, as my tutor had accumulated a massive debt, and was the man responsible for sparking my true talent. Gambling. What few had tried approaching me in hopes of romantic interest, did so in groups, only interested in my cash or my body; Everyone except for him, or so I thought.

He was charming, handsome even, and he was like a god in my eyes for he made me feel special and loved… So when he proposed, I thought nothing of it and accepted him into my heart immediately. He was eager and I was nervous.

The chapel was empty on my side, save for my old tutor and an old colleague of my fathers, so his friends had spread out evenly.

My body, it was on the floor and it was oh so limp. I could feel it, suffocation as blood clogged every airway possible. So limp, yet I mustered the strength to say one name in hope someone-anyone-would overhear, no matter how faint or weak I sounded.

"Ricardo...?"

“No one is going to find your body, my sweet.”

With that, that Italian bastard left me to die, gagging on my blood. And the fool had the audacity to step over me as I was in the process of dying in my own pool of blood on the floor in the bedroom, blood slipping between my fingers from the wounds peppering my stomach and face from the bat he used to beat me with. Before leaving through the door, he stoked a flame to a scented candle given to us on our wedding… and smiled down at me “Thanks for the inhe…..”

I can remember blacking out and, somehow, by some miracle, I was alive; My ribs were cracked, left hand fractured and I had various damage to my face from the bat which he had chosen to bludgeon me with but… I was alive. It stirred something in me, like I had cheated the inevitable when in actuality a friend of his hand stopped by to drop off a box of camping supplies…

He planned to break my bones and stuff me in a trunk to better hide me in the nearby woods easier.

)▬▬ Stardust Crusaders Biography ▬▬(

A single mother turned thrill seeker, the longtime gamblers travels had landed her in Egypt; She felt seemingly drawn in, called to even, in a casino up in Cario. As a matter of fact, her exploits in gambling her brought her to make an acquaintance of the Elder D'Arby brother. The pair were rivals in the beginning; Stevie aiming to collect his thread of life, and he aiming to collect her soul, the pair would often play various card games together. It was always rather intense, but there was no success in their battles for either party, oftentimes ending in a draw.

These games together brought the pair closer, additionally, causing the duo to pair up to play games against people of interest. This also sparked the interest of Lord DIO, particularly her abilities, involving the alteration of fate on a human soul with the exception of the past; Her abilities complimented the Elder D'Arbys abilities rather well. He offered her money for her efforts, but she merely stated that she was interested in the thrills that accompanied her gambling habits, in exchange that she gets her children tended to with no involvement in this lifestyle she leads. She would oftentimes accompany the Elder D'Arby for his gambling exploits, even if she herself do not play games with him at all times, she ended up using her abilities to compliment his abilities with the soul.

She ended up, eventually, having her fair run in with the Crusaders shortly after the defeat of the Elder D'Arby. With her employ to DIO and the defeat of her friend, she challenged them to her own game of fate, before she was defeated. In a last ditch effort, she attempted to utilize her threads to grab herself a hostage for she knew her failure would ultimately lead to her potential demise. However, Star Platinum was fast, making short work of the woman and shattering all ten of her fingers, rendering her stand completely useless as she has no mobility in her hands. Her fate is ambiguous after this last encounter, but she is to be credited for helping place Anubis on that familiar path in which Chaka acquired the famous sword. Her role is minor in the Glory Gods, and ultimately, apart from complimenting the Elder D'Arbys abilities or her alteration of fate bound to a soul, she has little impact on the grand scheme of things.

She lives her life in shame as much as isolation, having been unable to raise her months old daughter properly, she had to send her children away to a relative in America.

[balancingthewind]

6 | recovery

I applied for another job recently. Not because I don’t like the one I have, but simply the timing of finding of the particular job seemed synchronized to awarenesses recently opened and conversations had. The position was to be a peer support specialist at a local addiction recovery center.

They asked the question, “Are you in recovery? How did you get there? What is it like for you?” as a long-answer response prompt in the application. What is quoted below was my initial answer, which ultimately was edited down to about half the size of what appears here as was necessary for the character limit. I’ve added pictures here because I can. 

spoiler alert: I didn’t get the job.

“I suppose I can answer "yes" to this. There was never really a point in my time abusing substances where I recognized that I couldn't recover without help, but I suppose that recovering solo is still recovery all the same. 

From about 2012-2018 I dabbled daily with alcohol, psychedelics, and "party drugs" such as cocaine, MDMA, and other seratonin-impoverishing substances. Basically, myself and ten to fifteen other people at any given time could be found out of our minds at someone's house or the public park or anywhere at all. I stopped using my own will to influence my direction, and thus found myself as far as New York City, New Orleans, Montana, California, and most places in-between, driving my car with my dog and anyone else who wanted to be in it, on wild and all the same much-forgotten adventures.

My transition to "clean" was gradual. It kick-started when I found myself in Oregon on the tail end of a psychotic break, with no one I could trust, stripping for money and putting in every ounce of leg work to keep myself and my (toxic and incredibly traumatized) ketamine- and xanax-addicted epileptic partner alive. I wanted to believe we could help one another - this story is much too long for this response - but I caught him stealing from me, an inexcusable act. Only then did I drive five days home to Kentucky alone. 

Because of distance and circumstances, my exit from the “scene” had begun the summer prior when I left on aimless travels. I returned home during a period where some of the hardcore partiers had leveled-up to homecooked crack benders, of which I desired no part. I began to recognize that the lustre of community and “one love” had faded into a gruesome shadow, a mass grave.

I then found myself a partner who at least had a job and a home, but also lung cancer and a mean cocaine habit who put us in repeated proximity, close enough to be considered participation in the darkest corners of that massacred dream. I’m not sure what I expected, but never did I let myself get comfortable here.

A short time after my quiet exit from the well-intentioned mistake, I found a partner who had job, home, wasn't actively dying and didn't "mess with powders", but an alcohol addiction and religious trauma enough to extract all interest in spiritual endeavors. I didn't leave him until I was cheated on.

Eventually, I just got really sick of being around people with whom my bonds were based mostly in trauma and had no apparent interest in the journey to better health and a fulfilled life. I realized the inherent toxicity about a culture that encourages people to dissociate from their bodies, to be loose with their moral interpretations of actions while silently carrying the guilt.

It was an incredibly lonely transition. It was as though I once sat precariously atop a tall tree, overlooking the world, thinking I had found serenity, and when the storm finally came and knocked me from the peak, I quite naturally ran into many branches on the way down. All leaving bruises, all needing healing, but never will gravity need to pull me down that way again. They are staying in the tree, and I am staying where I belong, on the ground.

I still miss the camaraderie sometimes, the feeling that no one could ever take your perfect humanness from you and that not a thing else really matters, choosing to believe with all one’s might. But what I really wanted was to be strong, impermeable, and surrounded by those who supported my dreams and vision. And I'm stronger now. Now when I feel triggered, I at least try to sit with what I'm experiencing rather than burying the feeling under chemicals and noise quickly enough that they’re barely noticed.

I'm also lucky to now have the strongest support system in my personal history. My partner is stable, understands where I've been, and holds space for my experience while encouraging me to do better every day. My parents also continue to support me, and my boss meets me spiritually and always holds compassionate principles when I need her as a confidante and advisor. I am grateful to these people and feel that every person needs and deserves support from those with their best interest at heart.

I'm not sure what else to include here other than the fact that, the other day, I had the recognition to write this as a Facebook status:

"Manifestation of change:

I went from the person who people asked to help them find party drugs, to the person people ask to help them find healing resources.

If I can do it, you can too.”

That's actually why I found this listing. My mom was inspired to look into peer support jobs and, somewhat miraculously, found you. And here we are.”

[oneyanderegirl]

Secret Glances

Genre: One-shot, Hurt/Comfort Rating: T Sasuhina Month 2020 Theme: Day 5 (Secret Glances)

A/N: This turned out much longer and different than I thought. It feels nice to be writing again though, even if I am rusty. Part of my one-shot series for Sasuhina Month 2020. You can read the other parts by going on my profile and clicking the fanfiction tab. Hope you enjoy! Warnings: Mentions of death.  

The heat felt endless.

How long had she been up already? The sun was at its peak during this time of day, burning everything in its path, including herself. The sun felt as if it was burning her all too pale skin despite all the sunscreen she had put on just earlier before she went out. The sounds of cicadas could be heard merrily singing amongst the grass and trees. The birds that stayed hidden from view seemed to harmonize with them, creating a symphony of wild music that never seemed to end.  

It was summer.  

“ Hinata-chan, hurry up! You’re falling behind again!” Cried a voice.  

She could see long, platinum blonde hair swaying from a distance as the woman who had called out to her ran closer and closer. Before she knew it, the woman had already managed to grab a hold of her.

“ Ino-chan!” She yelled in surprise.

“ You haven’t gone out in forever with us! Don’t even think about trying to sneak out. Especially, not after what you promised us the other day. Let’s hurry up and catch up with the other girls before we get left too far behind.”

Hinata could feel the seriousness hidden behind those bright blue eyes of hers. She could only nod in response, which satisfied her friend. She could feel herself being dragged along as the two of them ran to catch up with the other girls that she had promised to spend the day with.

Summer.

It was her first summer without Neji.

Her cousin had died during the Fourth Great War less than a year ago. His funeral had been held during the end of Autumn. She could never forget that day. The day when the Hyuga had forced Hinata to give a speech in remembrance, despite still grieving for him. She couldn’t even cry during his funeral. A part of her couldn’t accept it. She couldn’t accept that one of her most important people had passed. Even as she witnessed his own corpse being lowered to the ground so that he could be buried and pass on in peace, Hinata still couldn’t accept it. He was a strong shinobi, one of the strongest in all the village.

Yet he had died.

He had died protecting her.

He had died because she was too weak. Had she been stronger, Neji never would have been killed. She had blamed herself ever since he had died. It didn’t matter what other people said, it was Hinata herself who had ultimately ended up killing him.  

But during these times, she would remember the words from a man that she had barely spoken to over the years. She remembered it was only a few days after the war when Hinata had decided to  visit him on a whim. She remembered the desperate helplessness she had felt when it seemed no one could truly understand the pain she felt in realizing the death of her cousin was real. It was only after speaking to him that she could finally find some relief and hope in the void that Neji had left behind in her soul.

That man was Sasuke Uchiha himself.

“ How do you deal with the pain of losing a loved one?” She quietly asked.

Sasuke kept staring out the window for what felt like an eternity before turning to face her. Although she kept her eyes on her hands, she could feel his aura as she felt his gaze. It made her feel small and insignificant. She wondered if he was angry at her for asking. Afterall, how could the death of one person compare to the death of an entire clan?

“ We move forward. We have to live. We have to strive to protect them. If we can’t protect their physical bodies, then the least we can do is protect their ideals. It doesn’t matter how much you cry or suffer, you have to live anyways. If you don’t, then it just means their deaths were in vain. Don’t waste the life they gave you.”

Hinata looked at Sasuke in surprise. She wasn’t expecting him to say so much to her. But she felt a sense of relief, as if a huge burden had been lifted from her shoulders. They weren’t words of sympathy or pity. There were no apologies nor were there empty condolences within the words he had spoken.

They were words from a person who understood her pain.

It had been their first conversation together since their childhood days, and it was the last conversation they had together before he had left the village for reasons that he wouldn’t disclose to anyone, other than his best friend, Naruto. Yet despite that, it was his words that had stuck with her the most. It was what had helped her get through Neji’s funeral, even though she had been forced to give a speech she did not want to give.

And it was his words that had woken her up.

Ever since that night, Hinata had devoted herself to training. Whether it was shinobi training, clan training, or her own personal studies, Hinata had decided to do it all if it meant that she would be able to fulfill Neji’s one wish. It would be her way of paying him back and making up for the sacrifice he had made with his life in order to protect hers.

The eradication of the Cursed Seal.

The Cursed Seal, which marked all Branch members within the Hyuga Clan, was a symbol used to indicate a lower status and acted as a chain that linked them to the Main House. It allowed the Main House to have absolute control over them, something that had caused Neji to develop hatred for her during their childhood days. It took many years for the two of them to mend their strained relationship. One of their goals that the two of them had decided upon when they had become closer to one another was to change the old customs within the clan.

The two of them were supposed to change the clan together. That had ended when he died, leaving Hinata by herself. But she had to keep moving forward. She had to keep their promise alive. So that was why she had decided to commit so hard in training. She wanted to have something to show for. She wouldn’t be able to face Neji otherwise. It was the only way.

However, in dedicating herself to fulfilling their wish, Hinata had neglected her friends.

“ Hey, you’re spacing out again.”

She felt a gentle shake as another one of her friends, Tenten this time, looked at her with concern. Tenten was the only other person who had felt the same pain, if not more so. Tenten had loved Neji. They were supposed to move out together once the war was over. But it was only an unfulfilled dream now.

“ Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind lately. I’m fine.”   Tenten shook her head in understanding. The other two, Sakura and Temari, who had been waiting for the three girls to come, beamed with joy once they saw everyone had finally arrived. They had planned to have a girls’ day together, something that was rare nowadays since everyone was busy with various jobs in their lives.

For Hinata, it was the first time she had gone out ever since Neji had died. She had spent countless months in seclusion, a result that came from constantly preoccupying herself with training. She was reluctant, but her sister, Hanabi, had forced her out of the house stating that she had to take a break every once and awhile. Normally, Hinata would have agreed.

However, she only saw it as a waste of time now.

Still, she decided that it was better to go along with everyone’s desire rather than try to force her way out. After all, she wasn’t intentionally trying to push away her friends. She was just trying to do all that she could do to make sure she could fulfill her dear cousin’s wish as soon as possible. But if her friends and sister wanted to see her once and awhile, then she would indulge it.

Before leaving with her friends, Hinata noticed a hawk soaring across the sky. It had headed towards the direction of the Hokage’s Office before disappearing into the distance. Before she could express outloud her curiosity, She could hear Tenten call out to her again. Tucking the thought away, she quickly joined the group before Ino could drag her again.

-----

By the time the girls had finished spending time together and left for the day, the sun had already begun to set. Despite this, the heat remained as scorching as it had midday. It did not help that it made her long, dark hair stick to her skin like hot sweltering glue. It made her feel uncomfortable. She wondered why her friends had picked such a hot day to see each other.

They had shopped and then ate an early dinner together. Although she had enjoyed their presence, Hinata felt that it was ultimately a waste of time. In her mind, it did not feel right to be wasting time leisurely like this. Not when there was still a goal to fulfill.  

She sighed.

Perhaps she really did need a break.

She looked up to the sky once more and noticed a hawk flying by again. It was the same one from earlier. Except this time it was flying towards the direction of Naruto’s house.  

Hinata quickly followed after it.

By the time she had reached Naruto’s home, the hawk had already disappeared. However, she could make out two figures. One was standing outside his windowsill with spiky blonde hair and cerulean eyes sporting orange pajamas, while the other stayed mostly hidden from view amongst the trees. She couldn’t quite make out the figure, but she knew they must have been important if they had made such an effort to stay hidden from view while the two of them were discussing something in private.

She was curious who Naruto was talking to, so Hinata stayed hidden as she watched from afar. Night had already come, so it made it even harder for her to see without the help of her dojutsu. She did not want to use the Byakugan though, in case they could sense her.

Suddenly, she felt the hidden figure turn towards her direction. Hinata tried to hide away, but it was too late.

A pair of obsidian eyes met her silvery ones.

For what felt like an eternity, they stared at each other. She wasn’t sure why he was here, but she could instantly recognize who he was. There was only one person in the world whose eyes were as dark as the moonless night.

Sasuke Uchiha.

His raven black hair had grown longer since the last time they met. It was difficult to make out, but she could tell that he wore a long black cape to hide his presence.

She was so surprised by his presence that she couldn’t help but murmur his name.

Just as she did, Sasuke quickly reverted his eyes back to Naruto. It seemed their friend hadn’t noticed their interaction with each other. They continued talking normally, although occasionally Sasuke would give her a quick glance before redirecting his attention back to Naruto.

Hinata knew she should have left as soon as she had been spotted by Sasuke. She knew whatever was transpiring between the two had nothing to do with her. She had a lot of things to do; there was training to be done at home.

Yet Hinata found herself unable to take a step.

She continued to stare at him. She continued to watch the man who had given her the words that she needed to hear when she felt as if the world did not understand the torment that she was going through. She continued to watch the man who was once considered an enemy, a monster that was born from the cycle of hatred acts for being born with the blood of the Uchiha clan.

Sasuke Uchiha was the man who had lost his entire family, a pain much greater than any eighteen year old boy should endure. He was the one who could understand her own grief and her own guilt. The only one who could give her the words she needed to hear once more, to confirm that the efforts she had painstakingly made throughout these months were good.

He was the one who she needed right now.

Hinata could see the two exchange their good-byes before Naruto closed his window for the night. As soon as he did, she tried to call out to Sasuke. She wanted to talk with him just once more before he left again. But just as soon as Naruto had left, Sasuke had already vanished from his spot as well.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp breeze pass through her. She could make out a black figure race past her. His eyes met hers again as they stared into each other before he finally disappeared into the forest.

A mere exchange of glances that lasted for only a second.

She didn’t feel satisfied with just that. Rather, she couldn’t feel satisfied. So using as much strength as she could, Hinata ran to follow him.

She ran and ran for what felt like ages. He was much too fast. She questioned whether he was really human. He was faster than any shinobi in the village, much faster than anyone she knew. When they had reached into an open field within the forest, Hinata was too tired to follow anymore. Instead, she yelled for him.

“ S-Sasuke-kun, please wait!” She screamed at the top of her lungs before finally collapsing onto her knees, hoping he would hear.

Before she could stand up again, she could feel a presence only a few inches away from where she kneeled on the grass.

“ What do you want?” His voice sounded much deeper than she had remembered. It felt blunt, yet held no malice nor annoyance. Rather he sounded distant like a stranger. Strangers that barely knew each other.  

In truth, Hinata wasn’t sure what she wanted from Sasuke. What was it that he provided that her friends couldn’t? She wasn’t the only one who had lost Neji. Tenten, Ino, Sakura, and Temari also lost him as well. He was their friend and comrade too. So why was it that Hinata continued to seek him out?

As soon as she had seen him, everything that she had done today had faded into oblivion. All the people she saw, all the conversations she had, had already faded into her memory. It was as if those things were insignificant compared to him. She wasn’t sure of the reasoning. She felt something unexplainable emerge within her. She didn’t know what to call these new emotions that had surfaced into her heart.

Perhaps it was because despite the others’ understanding and sympathy with losing Neji, none of them truly understood nor held the same level of relationship that Hinata had with her dear cousin. Neji may have been a friend, comrade, and lover for some of these people, but none of them had ever held the same familiarity that the two had with each other. He was more than just a cousin, he was her brother. He was her brother who had shared the same blood, the same training, and the same struggles experienced within the clan.  

Neji was the person who understood her the most.

And now here stood another man who also understood her. He understood her in a way that no one else could because he too had lost his brother as well. Perhaps it was because of this that Hinata wanted to see him. Perhaps it was why she so desperately seeked him out.

Because despite being merely acquaintances that were more like strangers, the two of them shared a unique connection that came from experiencing the death of a loved one. It was a connection that only the two of them could understand. Which was why Hinata had to try. She had to try to see him.

Even if it was just once more.

“ I...know this is a selfish request of mine, but...i-if it’s okay with you...I would like to see you again,” She asked between each breath.

Hinata slowly looked at the man towering before her. His cool expression gave away no emotion. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She wondered if it was a mistake to ask him. “ What good will that do? We aren’t friends, Hyuga. I have no interest in doing so either. I have my own things that I have to do. If you want to grieve then do so at your own expense. Don’t come to me to do it,”

She watched him turn his back towards her as he started getting ready to leave. A part of her knew he was right. She was being irrational again. They were not friends. They were essentially strangers. But then she remembered that day. She remembered his words. She remembered the relief, the release from her own guilt, even if it was only temporarily. She remembered the feeling that she had experienced when she found someone who had finally understood her. Yes, she was being irrational and selfish, but she felt so helpless and desperate that she had to try.

“ Please...Please, Sasuke-kun,” She whispered.

She begged him.  

She begged as tears started falling from her tired eyes.

But Sasuke was already gone. -----

Hinata wasn’t sure how she had managed to make it home. It was already four in the morning by the time she had arrived. To her surprise, neither her father nor the other clan members were there to berate her for coming home late. She was exhausted though, so she was glad for that. As soon as she had laid in bed, Hinata had fallen fast asleep.

She was still asleep when morning came. Even when the sun started to beam into her bedroom, Hinata still remained in bed. She felt mentally and physically exhausted from her exchange with Sasuke. It had been a mistake to ask him.

Until she heard a light tapping noise coming from her window.

Still feeling tired, Hinata groggily opened her window to see what had been making the noise. Staring back at her was a brown hawk with golden eyes. When she opened her window, the hawk flew to her desk. It dropped a small letter before resting in a space near the corner of the desk. After a few minutes of staring at the letter, Hinata finally grabbed it to read what was written inside.

If you want to talk, use the hawk as a messenger. I’ll be waiting. - Sasuke

That day, Hinata spent the whole day wondering in confusion what had transpired between them. She couldn’t understand the reasoning behind Sasuke’s actions. It was irrational though she wasn’t one to talk. However, it was only until nightfall, did she finally respond back to his letter.

Little did they both know, this would mark the beginning of what would become an abnormal relationship.

[virlath]

Theories on the Black City and what happens after the veil is destroyed

No traveler to the Fade can fail to spot the Black City. It is one of the few constants of that ever-changing place. No matter where one might be, the city is visible. (Always far off, for it seems that the only rule of geography in the Fade is that all points are equidistant from the Black City.)

The Chant teaches that the Black City was once the seat of the Maker, from whence He ruled the Fade, left empty when men turned away from Him. Dreamers do not go there, nor do spirits. Even the most powerful demons seem to avoid the place.

It was golden and beautiful once, so the story goes, until a group of powerful magister-lords from the Tevinter Imperium devised a means of breaking in. When they did so, their presence defiled the city, turning it black. (Which was, perhaps, the least of their worries.)

I’ve been pondering some of the foreshadowing/prophecies throughout the DA series recently, and I have some major crackpot theories on the Black city and Solas’ end-game that I just have to get out of my head.

Disclaimer: I always try to back up my speculation with evidence but a lot of this is personal conjecture. This post also contains spoilers from Tevinter Nights.

===

The foreshadowing

In light of everything that has happened so far, I think it’s widely accepted that Sandal’s prophecy was in fact referring to Solas and his plans.

One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see. 

As we know, the Black City is a constant landmark in the Fade. Consequently when the veil is destroyed, we can assume the Black City is what everyone will see, dreamer or non-dreamer alike.

The Black City and the aftermath of the veil’s destruction is further foreshadowed in the Tiniest Cave quest in DAI:

"Pulling back the curtain. Let the light in. Let it burn."

This sounds awfully familiar to the Chant of Light, which we can also use as foreshadowing.

At a touch, the gate swung wide, And the Light parted before them like a curtain Swept aside by nothing. Fearful to touch them. And none saw the black mark Spreading like a sore upon the shining gate Where mortal hand had lain. 

Solas tells us his plans involve restoring “the world of his time- the world of the elves”. If we subscribe to the theory that Arlathan was once the Black City (which I do and will further elaborate on), it stands to reason the Black City, one of the most important landmarks in the Fade, will be at the top of his agenda once the veil is destroyed.

The Black City = Arlathan

...at the center of the world stood the great city of Arlathan, a place of knowledge and debate, where the best of the ancient elves would go to trade knowledge, greet old friends, and settle disputes that had gone on for millennia.

According to Solas, Elvhenan was the elven empire and Arlathan was its greatest city. Arlathan was thought to have been sunk into the ground by Tevinter magisters after the creation of the veil, but no trace of it has ever been found until recent events in Tevinter Nights. I don’t think this is a coincidence. 

In fact, I presume pieces of Arlathan are only surfacing now because Solas' ritual to tear down the veil has already begun to take effect in the Fade.

In Trespasser, various codices reveal the ancient elves once defeated the “pillars of the earth” and rendered their “land” to the People:

"Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!"

It is also implied the elves took control of the titan’s workers and used them as slaves/minions while harvesting their bodies for materials. The below codex implies Elgar’nan even used the body of a titan to carve a statue of himself:

The pages of this book—memory?—describe a monument made in a single afternoon by a thousand-thousand toiling servants swarming over a lump of fallen stone as large as a collapsed mountain. By the end of the day, the stern figure of Elgar'nan stares down into a valley, carved out from the foothills of the rock. The slaves have disappeared. Light radiates from the eidolon's narrowed eyes and its open, snarling mouth.

"Hail Elgar'nan, first among the gods! Mark his victory eternal!"

I theorise it was the elves’ defeat and subjugation of the titans that truly allowed the elven empire to flourish. The elves took control of the titan’s workers (the first dwarves) and used them to build their statues, temples, and cities. 

The elves’ biggest and grandest city was Arlathan - a city carved from the body of a titan, floating above an underground sky deep underground. Arlathan was "the center of the world” because the elves willed it so. The city was ultimately a beacon of their pride and false divinity.

The pages of this book—memory?—describe an elf approaching a city of glass spires so deeply blue they ache. The city's outskirts are wrapped in lakes of mist, and figures stroll along the pearly, glowing strips as if they walked on solid ground. Groves of trees woven into enormous parks shelter elves in quiet hollows, while other elves walk below a river churning along an invisible shoal in the air.

The scene hums with quiet talk and contentment as the memory's maker reaches the city's gates, already thrown open wide.

“Imagine instead spires of crystal twining through the branches, palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. That is what was lost.” - Solas 

This is why Tamlen describes seeing the Black City underground in the eluvian - because Arlathan was originally “underground”- within a titan’s biosphere.

When the veil was created, Arlathan fractured and displaced due to its innate tie to the Fade, much like the Vir Dirthara we see in Trespasser. Despite this, the idea and will that formed its foundation(alongside a potential heart/lyrium spring which I’ll get to later) anchors it in the Fade as a constant landmark - a reflection of the evanuris’ pride.

Since the creation of the veil, no trace of Arlathan had been found in the waking world until a piece of the city was recently discovered by scholars in the Deep Roads in Tevinter Nights:

...Arlathan, the ancient elven capital, had not been destroyed by Tevinter, but by the strange magics that caused the rise of the Veil. ...

...Natural caves and the occasional support beam suddenly gave way to delicate elven carvings, the stone floor abruptly changing to mahogany hardwood. There was no doorway, no planning or joinery. It was as if a pocket had suddenly formed in the rock, replaced by the notion that shelves and reading desks should simply be there. They had turned a corner and stepped into an elven library. When Arlathan “fell,” a piece of it had “fallen” here.

- excerpt from Tevinter Nights, Genitivi Dies in the End

This lends credence to the idea that fragments of Arlathan and other ancient elven locations are still somewhere deep underground, or will soon manifest in the waking world as the Fade slowly joins together with reality. When Solas’ ritual completes, Arlathan will be free to manifest itself completely in its original location (presumably underneath Arlathan Forest).

The Fade version of Arlathan (ie. the Black City) has always remained inaccessible to all beings. I believe this is because Solas hijacked the city’s defenses and used it to imprison the evanuris. Theoretically this plan would work in his favour because the city would always be visible in the fade for him to keep a watchful eye on (thus corroborating legend in a way).

It is simple to say that the laws of nature do not apply in the Fade, but while traveling in the Fade is often confusing for mages, it is rarely so chaotic as to defy description. In fact, while the placement of items may seem random, those items usually operate as we would expect them to in the real world. A book opens to show pages, although the pages may be blank or lined with gibberish. A pen and inkwell let a user write, though the pen may write on its own, and the inkwell never runs dry. Those items that float usually hover at the relative height where they would have sat had the objects meant to support them existed—candles suspended in the air as though held by a phantom candlestick, for example.

Why are the laws of the Maker bent but not fully broken? Why does a book not turn into a dragon, or a statue explode into countless shards of energy? The answer, I believe, lies in the fact that the items we see in the Fade were most often made by the hands of men. A statue is a created thing. The mortal hands that shaped it gave it purpose, and it knows what it is meant to do. The objects that strain against the laws of nature are ironically those that are more natural themselves. Great stones, for example, hang in the sky. No hand has ever touched them, no mortal mind shaped them to purpose.

I suspect, though we may never know, that if dwarves dreamt and shaped the Fade with their own perceptions, the rocks would not float.

—From The Shape of the Fade by Enchanter Ephineas Aserathan

According to the codex above, the more natural an object is, the more it will defy “laws of nature” in the Fade. This is further evidence Arlathan is formed from organic material- the body of a titan. Furthermore, elves depended on lyrium for their magic as it was quite literally the foundation of their empire. Dagna also tells us the Fade and lyrium are linked. 

Because of these facts I infer there is a good possibility Arlathan was built around the very heart of a titan, or they built an endless lyrium spring within the city, acting as a pump/generator. The infinite flow of lyrium fuelled the magic that held the city aloft in the sky as a constant landmark, and that is what made it the “center of the world”. They used the light from the titan to illuminate the city, making it look golden by reflecting light off its gleaming, gilded walls.

“It shapes the Stone. It is the Stone. It sculpts the world within and without.”

The Fall mosaic from DAI also gives us some interesting information on dwarven craftwork, and is further evidence Arlathan was in fact built by the first dwarves.  

Here's something interesting, though. You've got a hint of pigment and leaf causing some sheen, but there's meant to be more. All of these were painted and repainted at some point, to match whatever lord's three-holer. But there's a type of finishing that you can do, a very fine and time-consuming pass that evens the surface. Do it right, you can get stone as smooth as glass. And that tower, and Beardy's skull, are meant to have it. And only a little is present on the others.

So, the first time this carving was wheeled out, it would have looked like Beardy was the target, so maybe he was first in the door? And the "light," it burns him and spreads to the others. And the polish or leaf would have caught light like a mirror and caused the viewer to squint. They'd have to look down or away, "joining" the magisters in their punishment. Makes them feel part of it.

In DAI, Solas remarks the Temple of Mythal was gilded head to toe purely to impress. Knowing the evanuris claimed divinity, I think it’s likely they used the ancient dwarves’ knowledge and their sheer numbers (thousand-thousand toiling servants) to sculpt their palaces and make them shine like metal. 

The statue above is a good representation of this in action. Notice the base? It’s rock...that eventually gives way to form a bronze like finish that is "smooth as glass”. The smoothness of the metal here is only paralleled to the gilded statues in the Temple of Mythal, all of which I believe were crafted by the dwarves.

===

The Black City, post-veil

One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.

While fragments of Arlathan might be currently scattered underground in the waking world, once the veil is destroyed I imagine the city will reform and manifest itself fully within the “sky” of a titan. I presume this would happen underneath Arlathan Forest.

Thus when the veil is destroyed, dreamers and non-dreamers alike would finally be able to see the Black City for themselves (that is, if they delve underground).

According to Avernus, the morally corrupt grey warden mage in DAO, the Black City holds the key to the blight:

There must be some way to refine the Joining. Isolate the true power that is found in darkspawn blood, and leave behind the evil that kills us...

In my dreams, I see the Black City, and I am drawn towards it. There is something there, an answer to what this taint is, this taint that we share with the darkspawn...

Tamlen was also tainted by the infamous eluvian in DAO, which somehow had a link to the Black City. His dialogue and the sound effects from the eluvian makes me think something incredibly powerful and malevolent resides within the city itself.

One of the most important things to know about the Black City is:

Dreamers do not go there, nor do spirits. Even the most powerful demons seem to avoid the place.

This correlates with Avernus’ notes on blight magic:

Blood magic comes from demons; they could counter every bit of lore I possess. But the darkspawn taint, that is alien to them. And it has power.

This effectively means that Solas- the big bad dread wolf with instant KO petrification powers, has a weakness just like the rest of the beings on Thedas, and that weakness is the blight.

Considering his lyrium idol is tainted and the Black City is ground zero for the taint, is Solas intentionally opening himself up to corruption to carry out his plans?

Let’s analyse that mural again:

The tree branch is reminiscent of the Vhenadahl, a symbol of Arlathan

The big circle motif represents the evanuris’ prisons within the Black City

The lyrium idol and the seven old gods (the semi circles) are the “two factor authentication” needed to unlock said prison

Solas is standing inside the Black City, and it looks like he’s either holding back the tide or about to open pandora’s box 

everything is on fire

This is where we set aside (most) evidence and let imagination take the reigns. :)

===

The end-game

Once Solas destroys the veil, I think he intends to destroy the Black City and everything within it.

This is what the mural is depicting - Solas, corrupted, alone, standing in fire in the Black City, about to blow the evanuris and himself to smithereens.

I don’t believe the Black City itself is the origin of the blight (another theory for another day) but I think the City itself is fostering the growth of red lyrium in the Fade in the form of an endless lyrium spring/generator within it, as I theorised earlier.

Through events that are currently unknown to us, somehow the Black City became ground zero for the taint as we currently know it. ( I have way more theories on this topic but alas this post is already rambly enough as it is)

This is why we see red lyrium everywhere in the Fade, particularly so in DAI because we are so much closer to the Black City than we have ever been.

Lyrium is a natural material that grows in the Fade, however I believe the Black City itself is corrupting and fostering the growth of red lyrium around it.

The theme of fire and light is interesting to analyse in this context because it is used in the teaser mural and the Chant many, many times as a metaphor for rebirth and cleansing.

Andraste gives Drakon his destiny I covered my face, fearful, But the Lady took my hands from my eyes, Saying, "Remember the fire. You must pass Through it alone to be forged anew. Look! Look upon the Light so you May lead others here through the darkness, Blade of the Faith!" 

Her touch was like fire that did not burn. And by Her touch, I was made pure again. 

The ninth sacred mountain upon which rests The moral dust of Our Lady ascended Whole into the heavens, to be given high honor In the Realm of Dreams forever. And around it, a chorus of spirits sang: "Whatsoever passes through the fire Is not lost, but made eternal; As air can never be broken nor crushed, The tempered soul is everlasting!"

By using fire to obliterate the Black City, Solas would destroy the false gods and the very system of power he loathes. But to do this, he has to do it alone (even his demon army can’t help him here), and he has to face the corruption and potentially taint himself in the process. Remember his greatest fear? Dying alone.

Tevinter Nights gives us some insight into how his plan would play out, in the form of Dumat’s Folly. 

Dumat’s Folly is supposedly a piece of the Black City itself. 

In Half Up Front, the real Dumat’s Folly is replaced by Solas’ agent with a similar artifact from the same time. The lesser replica is then used to blow up the Qunari’s Darvaarad, which was turned into a floating fortress after the events of Trespasser.

“It is an ingenious device. Not a piece of the Black City, like the true Dumat’s Folly, but taken from the same time. It draws magic into itself. Stores it, and then when it is full . . .” She clasped her hands together and then pulled them apart. The universal sign for something exploding. Yeah. Not good.

With the real Dumat’s Folly, I think Solas intends to use it as a catalyst to destroy the Black City for good. By pairing it with a rune and triggering it from within the city, the artifact would nullify the corruption (like Dagna’s rune for Samson’s armour) but the side-effect is, the city eventually explodes with all the built up energy.

It is possible that if Solas’ orb still existed, he might not need to go to all this trouble. After all, Imshael has knowledge of how to reverse red lyrium growth, and Mythal was seemingly able to nullify it for Andruil. 

But to halt the spread of red lyrium in the destructive state as it is now, destroying the source that is feeding the corruption is necessary.

But will everything go according to plan?

And I looked up and saw The seven gates of the Black City shatter, And darkness cloaked both realms.

There is foreshadowing in the Chantry that eludes to the gates of the City shattering. When you pair this with Eleni Zinovia’s prophecy...

"The prison is breached. I see the encroaching darkness. The... the shadow will consume all..." - Eleni Zinovia

Is this foreshadowing a darkness- an endless night, after the Black City’s destruction? Will Solas fail somehow, or will his plans induce a new blight? Will he destroy the City but free the false gods in the process? Is that why all the teaser images are set at night?

I’m not saying I want Solas to fail or anything, but I admit hearing from another primary source from ancient times would be a nice contrast to Solas and Mythal’s biased viewpoints. Also, if an endless night is on the cards this would be the perfect time for Lusacan/Falon’Din to make themselves known.

"Bring faith. Bring hope. Bring a dream of life." 

When the veil is destroyed, willpower would be needed more than ever if any survivors are to forge ahead. After all it is sheer will that shapes the fade and creation itself. 

"He'll remake the world to suit his desires. His chosen to reign."

If Solas plans to “remake the world” and give up his life for his cause, who are his chosen to reign? Will the veil’s destruction reveal more secrets from the ancient elves? And if Solas does indeed plan on destroying the Black City, does this align with Mythal’s vision? More things to ponder for another day!

[monstersdownthepath]

Deity: The Keeper of Masquerades

(Art by @celenewashere​!)

Lawful Evil Archfey of Clocks, Fear, and Surveillance

Domains: Darkness, Evil, Knowledge, Law Subdomains: Shadow, Fear, Espionage, Tyranny

A mire of mystery surrounds the entity known as the Keeper of Masquerades, a fog so thick that anyone attempting to learn about him can expect to be turned around and lost before they even finish following the first thread. Hundreds have sunk permanently into that mire, never to be seen again. Perhaps they found answers, but more likely than not they found nothing but their own ends. The Keeper seems very keen on keeping any and all information about himself hidden from everyone and everything. His name, if he has one, is unknown. His true form, if he has one, is unknown, the most anyone ever sees of him being the shadow-shrouded mannequin bodies he inhabits now and again. His past? He certainly has one, and it is the first verifiable fact of his existence; he was once member of Count Ranalc’s inner circle, a dutiful butler and notekeeper for the shadowy Eldest. Ever since the Count’s disappearance, the Keeper has apparently begun attending to the affairs of the land Ranalc left behind.

Despite his status as an Archfey, he has at times sat in on meetings among the Eldest--an honor that must normally be granted by one of the demigod Fey themselves, yet the Keeper does not seem to require permission--though he has no true say in their matters and holds very little sway over their actions. He is merely there to record and offer polite advice when asked, ostensibly assuring that the distant Count is kept up-to-date on all matters the Eldest still discuss and all goings-ons in the First World. He is subservient and obedient, and willingly offers his services to the Eldest, despite their role in removing Ranalc from power.

For those below the Eldest of the First World, however, the Keeper is an entity to be avoided at any cost. An enforcer of a terribly rigid and inflexible order; the second verifiable fact of his existence is that there is little he despises more than needless chaos.

The Keeper holds the unique position of bringing law to the lawless the First World, though the laws he upholds seem arbitrary to the whimsical inhabitants. He believes in ideas such as how time should always move forwards, never backwards and certainly never side-to-side, that gravity should always be aimed downwards, that point A should always lead to point B. Yes, he believes in a First World that more closely mirrors the rigidity of the Material Plane, seeing the Material as the perfect culmination of the God’s work and thus something to be imitated, rather than ignored for the sake of--eugh--freedom. 

Few things are more of an anathema for the Keeper than the concept of true freedom. The messiness and the wasted time that come from countless individuals merely lazing about in their own little worlds infuriates the shadowy being, to the point that the third verifiable fact of his existence is that there’s absolutely nothing he despises more than people wasting his time. The Keeper carries on his person a pocketwatch, a simple thing with no apparent magical power. When it is closed, he is speaking. When it is open, that is when you are allowed to speak, with him carefully measuring how much time you’re allotted. If it shuts in the middle of your sentence, you’d best end it right there, for continuing to speak after your allotted time will see the wrath of the Keeper visiting you. There is a morbid joke among fey that most are born with a reflex that quiets them upon hearing the soft, metallic click of the watch shutting, while mortal-folk have to learn the hard way.

The “Masquerades” that the Keeper keeps fourfold. The first and most publicly-known is the literal masquerade balls he holds at the borders of Ranalc’s realm, Nighthold, during which the invited disguise themselves entirely as they feast, frolic, and dance about for the amusement of the hidden host which, rumor says, dances among them. While most will make their own objectives upon being invited, the true purpose of these events is as much a mystery as the Keeper himself, with many believing them to be little more than a means for the Archfey to bring himself some levity. However, if it were simply a case of harmless fun, the invitations would not be so insistent.

“It’s a bad idea to go, but a worse one to decline” is the common saying when regarding the Keeper’s parties. Ignoring or, even worse, tossing out the invitations will see more of them appearing in more worrying and private locations, such as within the bathroom, within secret getaway rooms, within clothing, or even tucked inside the recipient‘s hand upon waking. It’s not known what happens to those who decline one too many times, though such beings are never seen again.

The second masquerade for which he is Keeper is the masquerade of safety (or privacy, as some would say) in the First World. In the stead of Count Ranalc, the Keeper oversees an army of Ankou and shadowy fey that is unrivaled in its size and spread, with rumors sometimes hyperbolizing that the Keeper has eyes all over the entirety of the infinite First World. This is not nearly the truth, but it is a lie he enjoys playing into. Whatever its true size, it gives the Keeper a significant enough reach to hold a knife to the throat of any fey that gets a bit too big for their britches, or one who starts antagonizing the rulers of the First World a bit too much.

Agents of one great Fey or another, even those of the Eldest or Archfey, may find themselves visited in the darkened hours by the servants of the Keeper to deliver polite cease and desist warnings. “Failure to heed these warnings can be costly to one’s estate,” quoth the Keeper, “And I will neither condemn nor curtail the actions of my associates in their pursuit of justice against those who threaten the balance of power.” While trickery, throne theft, and backstabbing are common pastimes of the ever-whimsical Fey hoping to stir the pot, most have learned that such acts are best done in the daylight, where the claws of the Keeper struggle to reach. At least then they get a head start.

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Obedience and Boons

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Not a single being has ever seen what the Keeper truly looks like (though if rumors are to be believed, many or all of the Eldest know; the Lantern King is the usual suspect). Even his most trusted Feysworn are spoken to entirely via his mannequin proxies if he deigns to meet them ‘in person’ at all, and those who’ve served him without failure or falter for their entire lives are still not allowed to set a single toe inside his shadowy lair, the Nevermoor. Barely a handful can truthfully claim to have done so much as step on the threshold of the Nevermoor, and just what secrets and treasures it may or may not contain is the third masquerade none but his chosen know the truths behind.

“Secret Police” is a polite way to describe the Feysworn who bow to the sinister mannequin. His fey minions are more comfortable in the dark, so it is his mortal minions within the First World walking among the general population during the daylight hours, enforcing his will and keeping the peace. Inquisitors are the most common breeds of adventurer to flock to the Keeper, though the investigative and attentive types of any class are welcome. Those with a knack for assuring the pecking order is disturbed as little as possible, and maniacal chaos and disruptive disorder are kept to a relative minimum. The Keeper prefers mortals who can deal with such messes both quickly and quietly. In return for their service, they earn certain freedoms both in and out of the First World, the sigil of the Keeper serving as something of both a badge of authority and a permit to excuse certain actions... though reckless abuse of this authority can earn one’s own disappearance.

The Keeper’s grip rarely expands into the Material Plane, as that is the realm of the Gods, not the Fey. Agents in the Material are typically delegated to settling matters of fey origin and little else, slapping at the hands of upstarts seeking to dig their wretched little nails into what does not belong to them. However, in a strange way it can be said that the Keeper cares for the Material, seeing it as the ultimate creation of the Gods and thus something to be preserved and protected. His grip falters, but his eyes still gaze with a curious mixture of fondness and envy. Threats to lands he has grown especially fond of are responded to with his aid, though rarely ever directly; as he is not ‘authorized’ to meddle in the Material, he does so entirely in secret, his Feysworn masquerading as members of other faiths if they display Divine magic at all.

Using the Fey Obedience feat, a worshiper of the Keeper gain s certain Boons upon reaching a certain amount of Hit Dice. These Boons are granted at 12HD, 16HD, and 20HD, though the Feysworn Prestige Class allows someone to achieve the Boons much, much sooner. The Keeper’s status as an Archfey means he grants very simple Boons; spell-like abilities that may each be cast 1/day.

Obedience: Pretend to meditate for an hour to a sound that is soft but repetitive and unrelenting, such as the ticking of a clock, dripping water, construction work, or a distant waterfall. During this time, keep one of your eyes open just a crack and listen closely, watching and listening to what everyone around you is doing. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to Sense Motive checks and saving throws against Fear effects.

Boon 1: Clairvoyance/Clairaudience

Boon 2: Symbol of Fear

Boon 3: Weird

The Keeper does not seek the power of the Eldest. He is happy with his own station and does not overreach. Overreaching is a result of greed, after all, and greed is what began the First War. His station is set, and he shall remain in it. So too shall he assure others remain in theirs.