#to give her opponent third degree burns

[ultimate-snek]

Hebichi, her blood literally boiling, about to stab herself: this’ll hurt you more then it hurts me :))

The guy she’s fighting: D:

[whumpster-fire]

Comin' in hot with some Wings Of Fire takes. Have only read the first arc so far so might be getting some things wrong because of stuff in later arcs but whatever.

I saw a YouTube video of Would You Rather memes for the series and one of them was something like "Would you rather be a Firescales or a red egg Mudwing" and the results weren't unanimously the latter so I have to point this out: Peril is legitimately disabled. Like, her condition is good in two specific situations: a fight to the death or if you need something melted, but otherwise her powers are actively detrimental to her quality of life because she can't turn them down enough to safely touch any flammable materials or other dragons. She can't sleep on a soft bed. She can't read from a scroll. Presumably she'd have to be very careful around grass or trees. She is clingy with Clay because he's literally the only person who can touch her without getting third degree burns. Even without Scarlett's abuse her condition would be incredibly isolating and traumatic to grow up with. It's basically the equivalent of if a rainwing had a disorder that caused them to constantly sweat venom out of their scales.

Speaking of Scarlett's abuse, uhh... not that putting any dragon in a gladiatorial arena isn't gambling with their life, but there's something extra cruel and evil about putting a Firescales in a gladiatorial arena because, like. There was no way for Peril to safely spar or playfight with other dragonets. Did she even have any training other than watching other dragons fight and maybe getting whacked with a long stick before she was thrown into a death match for the first time? And the only things she's actually immune to are breath weapons, and possibly Sandwing/Rainwing venom if her body heat just cooks it into uselessness. For claws / teeth / seawing tails / sandwing tail barbs her only defense is that nobody can hit her without getting hurt themselves and her opponents all know it because she's almost exclusively fighting dragons who've already watched her burn someone to death. But a dragon lashing out in panic or trying to escape being grabbed could still have easily killed or maimed her even if they only got one hit in before their brain registered the pain. Like, the injury Flame got from Viper. I have to wonder if Peril being Scarlett's unstoppable champion was really the plan from the beginning or if she originally put her in against a prisoner she really hated with the expectation that her opponent would probably kill her but then either die of their injuries slowly and painfully afterward or be guaranteed to lose their next fight?

Also if Peril was ever injured to the point of needing medical attention, did anyone even have a plan for how to safely move her? Let alone bandage or dress a wound or splint a fracture or stitch a torn wing membrane?

Other topic: Coral is not a good queen or a good parent, I'm sorry. Trauma over having her daughters repeatedly killed aside she had most of the dragons around her walking on eggshells because they could be murdered or imprisoned for failing, disobeying, or displeasing her. That is not a mark of a good leader. Maybe she was better before all the trauma but not at the time of Arc 1. Also Orca challenging her literally as soon as she was old enough and setting that statue trap going "You're going to rule forever, aren't you, Mother? You should thank me. No one can stop you now." is... giving me really, really bad vibes that something drove that child past the breaking point and even if she thought she could win the challenge she was ready to die rather than live under Coral's rule / parenting any longer. Also I'm convinced that the statue was not meant to kill Orca's own eggs assuming she won her fight, because if she wanted to do that she could have easily put it in the hatchery while she was queen under the pretext of "I want to make sure the first thing my children see is my face even if I'm unable to be there for their hatching." That thing was a Dead Dragon's Switch that I bet she either planned to deactivate if she won or programmed to have a different function if she won, like actually guarding the hatchery.

I really don't want to go here with speculation but given that Coral was canonically planning to marry Anemone off to a much older creep of a dragon... are we sure that this is the only time Coral did this? Because I'm just saying, I'm struggling to think of things that would make a 7 year old dragonet feel like she has to overthrow her mother or die trying RIGHT NOW and also create a machine programmed to murder any future sisters if she fails, and this fits horribly, skin-crawlingly well. Having a deadline to escape an arranged marriage that's set to happen very soon after her seventh birthday would give Orca a reason she absolutely could not wait another few years to challenge her mother, and believing that her mother who didn't believe her and refused to listen was dumb enough to make the same mistakes again with a future daughter would be a motive to turn from "protective of her siblings" to wanting her future sisters dead.

[em-writes-stuff]

flufftober + whumptober day 12

prompts: fire and ice + "I haven't slept in days, but who's counting" + insomnia

341 words

characters: isadora "scratch" harper, silas gable

warnings: cursing

~

Scratch watches the fight with wide eyes. Sparks fly as the smaller competitor ducks underneath the larger. They move with her as she commands the room to watch her. The audience obeys, eyes locking on her raised arms and at the smoke billowing out from her. 

“She’s fire-skinned,” Silas whispers to Scratch. He leans in close to her. “Better hope she doesn’t win. No offense, but you don’t look that fireproof.” 

Scratch pushes him away and turns her attention back to the fight. It sushes him and looks at the other fighter. He’s a lot bigger than his opponent, but it doesn’t matter much when you can’t put a finger on her without a third-degree burn. 

He side-steps a pillar of flame and he locks onto something behind his adversary. Quickly, without giving her enough time to react, he shoots out a blast of cold air, freezing his combatant’s feet to the ground. He cheers in triumph, raising his hands above his head. 

Silas leans over again and sighs, “I hope they knock each other out again, like they did last time. Then you’d win by default.” 

She keeps her eyes trained on the fight and leans over, “Were you really going to try to keep me out of this?” 

Silas blinks and nods, “Yeah.” 

“Why?”

He turns to her, brows creased in disbelief. “Really? Look at that! You’d be dead within the week.” 

“You don’t know that.” Scratch rebuts. “I’m tougher than I look, you know.” 

He glances it over and chuckles disbelievingly. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, turning away from him. 

“I spent…three days trying to find somewhere to keep you safe from my brother dragging you into this, you know?” Silas whispers. “I haven’t slept since we got that fucking letter because I had a horrible time with the fights and didn’t want anyone to go through that.” 

Scratch turns to him and bites her cheek, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” he snaps. “There’s no getting out of it now, you might as well look forward to it.” 

[pyreshe]

spidervillain livvy lore:

she's from peter b's universe (dont @ me abt the number I'm stupid) and her father died in an attack. livvy was there, peter saved her first and said smth like "its going to be okay," trying to soothe this terrified child. but. he's a little too late for vincent and livvy never ever forgets.

as far as she's concerned? he lied. he lied to her face and is the reason her father has died and that she ended up in the system. that anger festers and becomes genuine vicious hatred.

her powers get outed in this verse during the incident when she burns down a foster home. she's almost taken to juvie or a facility for mutants/metas but another s.piderman villain finds her first.

they take her under their wing, help her evade the law, and they nurture that hatred she has for spiderma.n.

she's like "people want to call me a monster? I'll show you a fucking monster-"

a few years later, she starts openly wreaking havoc with a near single-minded goal of killing spiderm.an

peter always, always, always pulls his punches with her and cant bring himself to fight her in earnest. she's a child. a hurt and upset child. this makes her a genuinely dangerous opponent bc livvy has no such reservations. she's shooting to kill and has put him in the ICU before.

she tells him the same thing every time they fight. if he can name her father and apologize for getting him killed, then she'll stop.

but peter has had too many "almosts" too many people he fell just short of saving. he doesn't know who livvy is talking about and that eats him up inside.

one such incident where she almost kills him is after she finds out about mayday. this is also when she finally tells him her father's name. its the angriest he's ever seen her. she gives him third degree burns and tells him that vincent soto had a daughter too. he asks if vincent would have wanted this life for her and livvy says "vincent isn't here, is he?"

she doesn't have a real villain name, but the media keeps trying to give her one. each attempt is very, very stupid. the latest one is "candle queen". one day she's going to reduce the daily bugle building to a heap of smoldering ash.

peter b briefly encounters miles' livvy in his universe and does a double take. he almost didn't recognize her not covered in ash and going for his throat. this livvy is very sweet and gentle and miles doesn't really understand why peter is looking at her like that.

the rogue's monthly "fuck spiderma.n" brunch and livvy is there with a juice box and one of them is like "how old are you?" "I'm eleven!" "oh good! she's fucking eleven!"

[theknittingshadow]

A Shadow’s Scattered Thoughts

Part 2 of my reaction to “Journey to the West”

I’m at Chapter 35

TW: murder, genocide, abuse

-Okay so Zhu Bajie seems to defer to and respect Wukong quite a bit at first BUT this changes quickly.

-Wukong called him out when he talked about finding a nice home to take shelter in for the night going “you just want to go back to your cushy married life!” I don’t this was true. Old Monkey is getting a bit ahead of himself. Seems like Bajie gets defensive for a REAL long time after this.

-There’s a lot of instances where Bajie wants to give up and go home, actually. It’s kind of nice to see someone who struggles like this. Changing one’s habits can be HARD.

-On that note, Wukong’s supposed habit of going straight for murder isn’t…really….there. Sure, he’s itching for a fight but he’ll gladly let bygones be bygones if the person in the wrong tries to make amends.

-Introducing Sha Wujing! I like him! He’s very chill and already pretty disciplined, humble, and kind. Even Tripitaka notices this straight off and nicknames him “Sha Monk.”

-Oh Oh Oh! They are all monks now! Every single one of them has a shaved head, even WUKONG! Wow, that is an image.

-The fight between Wujing and Bajie when they first meet is actually pretty interesting. Wukong can’t go underwater, he can only part the water or turn into a fish so Bajie has to step up. He’s very willing!

-Guys, the Bodhisattva Guan Yin literally told you guys to mention that you are escorting the Tang Monk to retrieve scriptures whenever you introduce yourselves. You could have avoided the WHOLE fight with Wujing if you did that.

-There are several opponents they face that are too strong for Wukong to take on alone. He easily fights them to a standstill, don’t get me wrong. Just, he rarely beats them with his sheer strength. Usually, he either has to use his wits, or get help from Guan Yin or someone. I thought he would be OP and mow down anyone in his way. I like this better though.

-There’s a whole thing where they visit a monastery or pagoda and the elder priest really wants Tripitaka’s fancy robe Buddha gave to Guan Yin to give to Tripitaka. They legit decide to trick the pilgrims into lending them the robe and try to burn them all, locking them in a room at night.

-Wukong, why did you go to the trouble of fetching a magic fire-proof blanket to protect the sleeping Tripitaka when you could have easily just carried him out or WOKE HIM UP?!

-There’s also the monastery with the immortal ginseng fruit. Trip, my guy, you’re hilarious. The fruit happens to resemble newborns and he freaks out thinking they really ARE newborns. The two monks there are like “he still has impure mortal eyes and can’t tell what these are”

-Again, Wukong, why must you jump through ALL OF THESE HOOPS?! SURELY THERE IS A SIMPLER SOLUTION?

-Guan Yin comes in clutch yet again. I like her. They even have a party together. Now all the pilgrims will live at least another 47,000 years, Trip included.

-Bajie keeps on doubting Wukong’s loyalty and intentions, thereby making Trip suspicious of Wukong and/or ruining Wukong’s plan to rescue them.

-The White Bone Spirit Arc hurt me guys.

-The Bone Spirit (LBD to Lego Monkie Kid fans) knows she can’t beat Wukong to eat Tripitaka so she decides to mess with them instead. Disguising herself three separate times, she approaches the Pilgrims. Wukong sees through her disguise, tries to kill her, she escapes the body before he can destroy her. Boom, dead body of what looks like an innocent person.

-Bajie uses the opportunity to throw shade at Wukong. Trip forgives him twice but the third time banishes Wukong.

-Wukong actually calls Trip out on his favoritism towards Bajie a few times. Good for him! I’m wondering if this might be a degree of xenophobia? Bajie has lived around humans recently and knows how to act like them. Wukong doesn’t.

-However, it could also be that, being only in his early to mid twenties, Trip is instinctively deferring to one of his elders in this situation. I’ve struggles with this too. When you are a very young adult put in charge of adults older than you, it feels weird and wrong at first. Since Bajie (and Wujing) were in the Celestila Realm during Wukong’s rage, I wonder if they are older than him?

-Conclusion, I am conflicted about Tripitaka. On one hand, he uses the tight fillet spell on Wukong despite him providing proof that the White Bone Spirit was, in fact, a yaogui. On the other hand, he’s a young, sheltered, inexperienced adult trying to lead a group of immortals thousands of years older than him. One of said immortals has a reputation for violence that frightens the other immortals.

-Huaguoshan was burned. My heart 😭

-Wukong is having a bad time here. Falsely accused, punished, banished only to find his home in shambles and over half his people killed.

-He’s a good king. In only a few days, he rallies his people, defeats a verifiable army of hunters, and uses the loot from said hunters to clothe and arm his people. Then, gathers all kinds of trees and plants and starts rebuilding Huaguoshan. I salute you, sir!

-Seriously, there was practically an army of hunters coming.

-Kui Mulang, the Yellow Robed Yaogui, comes up. Bajie is VERY confident in his ability to lead and protect the Pilgrims. Proceeds to get his tail handed to him.

-Ao Lie breaks out of horse form and DOES STUFF IN THIS CHAPTER. THIS IS HUGE!!!

-Kui Mulang is more violent towards his wife than I had been led to believe. When he suspected she sent a message back to her people, he nearly beat her. Wujing, bless his soul, convinced him otherwise and he dotes on his wife to make up for his outburst.

-Bajie has a time convincing Wukong to come back and help. Monkey’s shockingly happy to see him and cordial and everything despite their arguments.

-…they actually killed Mulang and the princess’s kids. What.

-People regularly refer to Tripitaka as handsome and well-mannered. I can’t help but this Tolkien elf vibes.

-The aforementioned leads to an interesting lesson on judging by appearances.

-Wukong and the others make amends. Not before he holds them accountable. Even Wujing has to admit to standing back and doing nothing.

-THE GOLD AND SILVER YAOGUI ARE HERE!!!!!!!!! They are both amusing and heartbreaking.

All of the characters are more complex than I initially expected. None are ever fully in the right all the time. Each have strengths and weaknesses, good and bad.

[get-shiggy-with-it]

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

[princeescaluswords]

Invisible Empathy Gaps

You know, as irritating as the majority of fandom can be, it can also be very, very enlightening.  Since many of the participants work from a position where they believe they can do as they please because they imagine that their actions have no real consequence, they tend to reveal things that in what they would consider a ‘real-world’ situation, they would take pains to hide.

Often, the problem when people like me talk about the phenomena of “minority pain being invisible” and “empathy gaps” is that they can seem very abstract to some people, who think it’s just about ‘liking’ someone.  They don’t want to think about racism, they want to enjoy what they want to enjoy.  But these phenomena do exist, and they can be shown.

Take Derek Hale.  Tyler Hoechlin is a very attractive white man and a fine actor, while Derek Hale as a character occupies a very popular niche in entertainment.  We frequently talk about his tragic backstory, but here’s the thing: all we know for the first ten episodes of the show is that his family died in the fire and we’re only told that.   We aren’t even shown how it was accomplished -- it’s still murky even three years after the show is over -- but we know bits and pieces. Sheriff Stilinski slowly puts it together that the murder victims were possible Hale arsonists.  We learn that Kate seduced and raped Derek to accomplish it.  But we don’t see even a brief scene of the fire until it’s burned into Scott’s brain in Episode 10.

Yet, that’s all that seems necessary.  Fandom instantly wanted to fold Derek to their breasts on the strength of these bits and pieces.  The point is we had no idea of the pre-fire relationship between Talia and Derek or Peter and Derek until Season 3; we have no idea of the relationship between Derek and Laura ever.  But the sympathy was immediate and overwhelming.  The cry goes: Derek Hale deserves nice things!

Compare that to fandom’s response to what Scott goes through in Season 1.  We watch the horror on his face as claws grow out of his fingers in the bathtub.  We watch him wake up in the middle of the woods with no idea how he got there and then chased by a deformed monstrosity.   We watch him struggle with the idea that he might have killed Allison and then he might have killed Garrison in the third episode.  We watch him pinned to the gymnasium floor by Peter in Night School.  We watch him writhing on the ground while memories of being burned alive get stuffed into his head.  We watch him coughing up black blood, dying in the middle of the woods.  We watch him see Allison, the girl he loves, react in horror to his transformation.

And what does fandom respond with?  He’s stubborn.  He’s sexually obsessed.  He should be grateful for the Bite.   Unlike Derek, we’re not told what happened to him; we see it happening before our very eyes.  The fandom’s reaction to the first season is finding the nearest white boy with which to sympathize: compare their reaction to Scott being exposed to their reaction to Stiles scared in the McCall Hallway after the moon-crazed werewolf he just taunted screams at him.

Empathy gap?  What empathy gap?

And it’s not just once.  Let’s take Season 5.   

By that season, Scott has been criticized thoroughly by the fandom to the point of nausea about his willingness to give people like Jackson and Deucalion second chances.  He’s been scolded for not dealing with Allison’s dark phase correctly and not executing Gerard on sight.  He’s been mocked for trying to save everyone and failing and castigated for getting others to do his killing for him (which he never did).  He counts Derek -- who beat him, manipulated him, and lied to him repeatedly -- as a mentor and a brother; he has hope for Peter; he trusts the mercenary Braeden; and he doesn’t share fandom’s racist distrust of Deaton.  But the moment Stiles is overwhelmed by fear that his self-defense killing of Donovan will be answered by his losing Scott’s friendship, the fandom went into a paroxysm of tear-laden empathy, even though we never ever saw Scott hate someone before, even to the people who threatened his family and tortured him.

No one criticized Stiles for letting his emotions overwhelm his common sense, no one put him to blame for not telling just Scott or anyone.   They recognized the power of the event and the way Stiles was handling it as a product of previous trauma (mostly the death of Claudia and the nogitsune possession).

And yet, at the exact same time, Scott mishandled the imbalance between Kira and her inner fox spirit.  Unlike Stiles’s hallucinatory possibilities, we actually see Kira’s fox spirit attempt to execute a downed opponent, operate independently of Kira, and speak through Kira’s mouth (because Kira doesn’t know Japanese).  Of course, Scott remembers being tortured and losing Allison at the hands of a fox wearing a loved one’s face.  Scott (and the audience) isn’t dealing with an imagined scenario.  It’s actually happened before and happening before our eyes.  

But the fandom literally believed that Scott concealing his fears from Kira (and the fox spirit inside of her) was a terribly shitty thing to do, even while Stiles was busy lying to the entire pack at the same time.   

Empathy gap?  What empathy gap?

The fandom demonstrably heightens their sympathy toward white male characters while simultaneously dismissing or just missing sympathy toward minority characters.   Talia and Laura have been painted as suspect in order to heighten sympathy for Derek and/or Peter even though there is scant information that they did anything wrong (Talia was supposedly a tyrant though no one even hints at that; Laura neglected and abandoned Peter even though Peter never even suggests it).   The Sheriff’s fraught relationship with alcohol has been turned into child neglect, child abuse, and outright alcoholism even though Stiles rejected that idea explicitly.  There’s not a single scene which even implies that Stiles had to take care of himself in the aftermath of his mother’s death.  

But when we have an actual alcoholic who literally confesses to endangering his child with his drinking and literally confesses to child abandonment and we see demonstrations of his neglect on the screen (”I’ll send a follow-up e-mail”), fandom falls all over itself to downplay that into a one-time event not worthy of sympathy.  

We can put that into the same category as Boyd’s sister Alicia or what happened between Mr. Tate and Malia that she ended up in Eichen House or Braeden’s post-murder-attempt relationship with Deucalion as things in which the fandom ... just ... seems ... uninterested.   As compared to, say, the burning question of who is Liam’s mom?

There’s a reason that people try to make the point that audiences tend to downplay and erase minority pain, sometimes to such a degree that you forget it actually happened.

BUT IT’S NOT RACISM.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are weird, “Water”

I was thinking about this he other day after my swimming class, and thought it would probably be an important observation for aliens in close proximity with humans. 

It turned out to be a nice, short little thing for you all :) 

The rec room aboard the U.N.S.S Harbinger was only partially full scattered here and there with an assortment of humans, a couple playing ping-pong against a single Drev opponent, having two more arms than you average human, while another group played pool or lounged around on the over-sized bean bags reading, drawing or listening to music.

Dr. Krill had only recently begun investigating the human activity known as “relaxation.” and so far he hadn’t made much progress. The Commander said he was too ‘neurotic’ for relaxation, whatever that meant, and Sunny pointed out that he ended to think to much to relax. Either way he was trying. Apparently it was acceptable to think during relaxation time, but not about one’s work. He wasn’t exactly sure who had made the rules about relaxation, but that seemed to be how it worked.

He leaned back a little further in the beanbag aware that he would not be able to get out on his own as sunken down as he was. He rubbed two of his upper limbs together as he stared at the ceiling.

From somewhere to his left  human purred contentedly, not really purring but more like a short hum, “Doing better than usual, Krill. Watcha thinkin ‘bout.” he chose to ignore the horrific grammar.

“I am thinking about writing a book.”

“Like another boring medical journal?” The human groaned

Krill sighed deeply, “Honestly, the way you talk always makes me forget that you’re supposed to be educated for a human.” 

“Ouch, and besides my degree was in aviation, I’m not a doctor. If it isn’t a medical journal, than what is it?” Krill tapped his hands together, or what would be considered hands by human standards, “I am thinking about writing a sort of…. Care manual for the proper upkeep of humans.”

That earned him a snort and a laugh, “Like a ‘how to train your dog manual’.” The human laughed, “Krill, we are people, not pets.” Krill glanced over at the human aware of an irony the human didn’t seem to have picked up on. Lounging on a couch head resting on one of Sunny’s armored legs as she absently stroked his hair attention fixed on the pages of a weapons catalog. The human closed his single eye contentedly as she continued to ‘pet’ him.

“Uh-huh.” Krill acknowledged smugly.

“Alright, oh great expert of humankind, tell me what the first chapter is going to be about.”

Krill tapped his chin, a habit that he had picked up from the humans, “I don’t know, I was actually thinking something more towards my area of expertise. Proper ways of soothing a sick human.”

The human opened his one green eye eyebrow raised, “Well I have to hear this.”

Krill waved his hand, another human gesture he had picked up, “Well I was thinking about the importance of water for humans. I mean think about it what do humans do when they are upset, tired, sick, or in pain.”

The human thought for a long moment, “Um ... sleep.”

“Before that?” 

“Uh, well, personally, a hot shower.”

“That’s it!” the human looked over at him curiously, “No other species I know of does that. Give a human the ability to soak themselves in warm water, and they will spend hours doing it. They do it for pain, sickness, stress, relaxation, social bonding. Literally everything. It doesn’t even have to be a LOT of hot water, just a shower or a shallow pool. Not to mention that you just love the use of water as a soothing agent in all generalities You consume hot water flavored with powder. You like to LOOK at water, tell me that humans don’t go to specific places to look at lakes or waterfalls or streams. You even put them in your buildings with fountains and things. Humans love water.”

THe human shrugged, “I mean yeah, probably because we are like 70% water ourselves plus warm water increases blood flow, AND if you get in the water than you can ignore gravity for a bit and relax. It isn’t a mystery.”

“Accept for the fact that humans also love the SOUND of water.” 

The human tapped his foot absently, “Ok, that’s fair…. I love space but….. Do I miss the sound of rain.”

“Exactly!” Krill exclaimed, “You like the sound of destructive storms, some of you even fall asleep to them. Doesn't that seem strange  how humans like falling asleep to the sound of the most powerful destructive forces on the planet. Waterfalls, the ocean, a storm, and all of them water themed. I'm thinking about advising other medical professionals o use these sounds in clinics to soothe humans .” 

Sunny had stopped stroking the human’s hair to turn the page of her catalogue, and in annoyance he prodded at one of her extra arms. With a roll of her eyes she began stroking his hair again returning back to her reading, “Not that I disagree with you, but based on that logic, humans also love fire. Think about it, we have to use fire to heat our water, we love lighting things on fire, we use it as a decoration, we keep it in our homes, and I would argue that there is nothing more soothing than the sound of a fire.”

“Yes but not to the degree of water.” Krill argued, “you wouldn’t much like the sound of a forest fire would you because that’s TOO much fire, but yet you insist on playing in the ocean which is the definition of TOO much water. Plus, despite your love of lighting your drinks on fire, you generally aren't supposed to ingest it.” 

The human gesticulated his hand’s wildly now invested in the conversation, “Ok fine, but how about air. We need air more than we need air. We breath it in, heat it up, move it around. I like the sound of wind against the outside of a house. We sit in rooms specifically built to heat up the air because it makes us feel good.”

“ok , but you don’t like it when a hurricane blows down your house.”

“I don’t like tsunamis either, or flooding. Everything on earth can be dangerous.” Th human pointed out.

Krill sunk a bit further into the beanbag. He was definitely going to need help getting up now. This would probably be a good source of restraints for some species seeing as you needed a fair amount of muscle and coordination to escape one of these death traps, “Your house burns down, blows over, or is hit by a rockslide and you are upset, but you can’t tell me that if the town floods you won't find some human canoeing down the street.”

The human shifted his head to the other side, allowing Sunny to pet him at a different angle, “I won’t deny it.”

Krill tried to sit up, and failed, “All I am saying is that humans love water. You even like it frozen, you play in it frozen, slide down mountains of the stuff, throw it at each other, put it in your drinks, strap knives to your feet and dance on it. Humans love water, and that needs to be acknowledged as something useful for non-human dealing with humans. Even that tiny piece of knowledge will help you understand how humans relax and pass their time.” 

The commander frowned thoughtfully, “I mean that’s one way to talk about ice skating, but back to your point, our earth is like two thirds water, it would be really inconvenient if we DIDN'T like it.”

“Do you dispute my logic?”

“No, I think you may be exaggerating though.”

Above him, Sunny snorted, not entirely an accurate approximation of the human vocalization, but it was close,” This coming from the man who routinely takes 40 minute showers.”

The human glowered up at her, “You were listening this whole time?”

She turned the page of her catalog, “bits and pieces, and I agree with the doctor.”

The human waved a hand at her, “Oh shut up and look at your guns.”  Sunny smiled and flipped another page.

To summarize my point, humans, having come from a world that is covered in nearly 2/3s water, it is the single most important elemental compound in all its forms and can be utilized in one way or another to sooth, please, or socialize with a human. As a doctor I highly recommend its use in the context of extra-medical therapies. 

[emrysarthurpendragon]

Whumptober day 3 | Alt: Comfort

Where am I?

 What happened to me?

 Arthur? Arthur, where are you?

 Am I dead? Maybe he killed me before I woke again? For our friendship’s sake?

 Merlin’s drifted back into darkness’s arms; he felt safe, for now.

* * *

 Arthur had been thinking. A lot. Near the fire, Merlin had been unconscious for the past hours and all the prince could focus on was how Merlin had magic. No. Not had, has. Gaius’s ward was still breathing, and this would not cease anytime soon. Not even with his … lies. Had Merlin been practising when they first met? Probably. This would explain all the weird incidents occurring when they ran after one another and how Arthur made a fool of himself. How powerful was his friend? He made an entire building fell into pieces. He made them transport without even being awake when it happened. That must be something! Even regarding wizards’ standards. Blue eyes fell on Lancelot. The knight had been keeping watch over Merlin since they arrived here. He tended to the serving boy’s wounds and never let them approach with weapons at hand’s reach. They all noticed healed scars on their friend’s body. Scars that faded long ago, but with terrible stories attached to them. He saw Merlin half-naked through the years. At least after they met, and the boy had no choice but change into dry clothing after their usual banters. Those were inflected to his manservant after he first came to the citadel. By whom? Noblemen bother by their strange friendship? Attackers? Whenever they were ambushed? No. Arthur snorted when he remembered Merlin cowering to avoid battle. Or was he? Strange things did happen when bandits or enemies of Camelot attack them. Branches fell with perfect timing on their opponents, saving their lives more than once. Was it Merlin? He needed to know. If not for his sake, for Merlin’s. If he were right, this could be proof enough all sorcerers were not filled by hatred and darkness. Merlin was the opposite. Kind. Good-hearted. Goofy. A weird sense of humour, which often involved making fun of his master. Selfless too. He sacrificed his own well-being for Arthur, working extra hours just so his amour would be clean for the next day, and then stumbling more than ever the next day. Still he saw nothing. There must have been signs. Hints toward Merlin’s secret. With a heavy sigh, Arthur stretched and walked to Lancelot. The man glared at him, gesturing to his sword and the prince left it a few steps behind before sitting next to both his knight and valet.

“How did you find out?” he asked after an uncomfortable silence. If Lancelot knew and said nothing, this must mean something.

“Remember the manticore’s quest? Merlin used magic to save me and kill that beast. I’ve known since then,” Lancelot said, smiling fondly at their sleeping friend. “Then, I started noticing things. Like how he protected us without getting credits for it.”

“And Emrys? He’s related to Merlin?”

“I…” Lancelot hesitated; Arthur knew the truth now. “Yes. Pretty much. That’s why Morgana questioned him. Merlin told me her power showed her future. In it, Emrys killed her during a terrible battle. Since then, she wanted to find out who he is and stop him at all costs.”

“I don’t understand. Percival said I’m supposed to work hand in hand with Emrys. Legend and destiny. If it’s true, where is Emrys now? Why doesn’t he show up and change my mind on magic?” they would not build that future if they were playing hide and seek together.

“That’s the trick. He’s already here. Hidden in plain view and going unnoticed among your people,” chuckled Lancelot, now noticing how close the others were. They started listening and Leon gasped, realisation filling his features.

“Merlin?” he asked in a low voice, his gaze unmoving while said boy breathed in and out. In and out. Unaware of his surroundings.

“What about Merlin?” Arthur asked, still oblivious. He just couldn’t imagine Gaius’s ward as a powerful being. Not even after what they witnessed earlier.

“Yes, Merlin He’s Emrys. He was born to protect you, Arthur. He would die to do so, if it means you stay alive.”

“But it’s stupid! Merlin can hurt himself with a spoon! If he were so powerful, he would be dead because he sneezes too hard and just blew his room up!” OK, kind of rude. Merlin was not so stupid. Or was he? “He can’t keep a secret. I would know. It’s not…”

“Merlin’s more than that. Just … talk with him. Give him a chance,” Lancelot asked.

 With the betrayal still burning him third degree, Arthur wanted to say no. The conflict feelings sent him various messages. Forgive or kill. Understanding or hatred. Decide never felt so difficult before. The prince he used to be when they met, his father’s puppet, roared with anger and wanted to deliver Merlin to the flames. His new self, the one with strong feelings for his servant stood proudly, facing whoever may hurt the brunet. He needed to listen. To understand Merlin’s side of the story. So he waited … night turns into daylight. Another afternoon started and night fell again when Merlin awoke. After their talk the previous day, Lancelot had relaxed enough to sleep. Arthur took first watch and noticed Merlin’s eyes fluttering open.

“Rise and shine,” the prince mocked his serving boy’s usual greeting. “How are you feeling? You … you scared us.” You scared me. I thought I’d lost you. Don’t ever do that to me again.

“I … what…” then it hit him. Arthur knew the exact moment Merlin remembered what happened and what he’d done. Merlin went into full panic attack mode and Arthur’s body reacted before he could think. His arms locked around Merlin’s waist and he whispered words he never thought he would say. Especially to a sorcerer.

“Shh … it’s okay, Merlin. You’re fine. You saved us,” he murmured, gently brushing a strand of black hair. Merlin jumped at the touch and Arthur felt a pang of worry. This man could be the death of him. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m still alive…” Merlin whispered, dumbfound. Why had Arthur did not kill him? He had plenty of time if he had been out all that time. Wait. Arthur was hugging him. He watched him with worried eyes and something else … was it … no. Not love. Arthur loves no one more than his own person; a royal prat. “I was supposed to die!” the warlock suddenly gasped, watching around them with fright. Why was he…? He made a choice. He picked his life as a sacrifice to the goddess. He had to give up everything, just so Arthur may have a long and peaceful life, with a queen and lots of kids running in the castle. But here he was, breathing and … his mind free of Morgana’s spell. Free of whatever had bothered him for the last few weeks. Even when he walked and hang himself in an oak tree. Well, mostly. He still heard the voices in his mind, whispering tempting words behind an obsidian wall. They will come back, eventually.

“Merlin. Merlin focus,” ordered Arthur. “Good. Breathe in, breathe out … I know you’re scared. Listen to me. I won’t kill you. I’m hurt. I’m furious even. You lied to me … you kept secrets from me.”

“I’m sorry, I did not…”

“I know. You had to. Merlin I…” Arthur inhaled, unsure. If someone had told him this day would come, he’d laughed at the man face. “I guess I need to thank you … for what you did. You protected me, us, Camelot. You got hurt and never asked for recognition. Instead, I acted like a…”

“A prat?” Merlin joked.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

An angel pass, two, three and an entire van. Arthur knew he just shocked his servant. He never thanked him or anyone outside his knights before. Could one go into shock after such a change in their lives? After all, as a prince, people mostly kissed the floor he walked on and are grateful for his existence. Not the other way … oh … right … his head may pass the doors if he continues. His thought came to a halt when he heard Merlin’s soft voice, while their friends snore loudly around the camp.

“I’m dead. I’m sure of it now…” chuckled the younger man, raising a hand to brush over Arthur’s warm skin. If he hides it well, the once and future king felt a shiver ran down his spine. When he spoke, his voice sounds tight and uncertain. “Why would you? Tell me, Merlin.” The warlock still gently caressed his skin and they both blushed, even if no one noticed.

“Arthur never thanked anyone. Not even in my wild dreams. Ergo, I’m dead and I’m thankful…” under his fingers, Uther’s son froze. What for? “Arthur?”

“Don’t say those words. I’m your king and I ban you from dying. You’re not allowed to leave me. Not ever.”

“You can’t, I died already. I wouldn’t do that if I were still alive…” Merlin mumbled, sitting awkwardly. His hand still stroking his prince cheek. Their eyes met and suddenly, the world around them felt silent. Event the knights stopped their snores. King and vagabonds stared at each other’s for an eternity or mere seconds. Merlin’s inner voice tried to stop him, yelling something about him still alive or whatever … but he did not listen. He knew better. Arthur had to kill him, with the ban of magic still standing. He may regret it later, the morning after … but for now, the warlock stopped fighting his inner demons. He leaned toward his prince, the one who was still holding him against a strong body and their lips met for the first time. A warm feeling grew in them both. Arthur was stunned but deeper the kiss. He had desired that man for a long time now. Not since day one, no. They hated each other’s when they met; the feeling turned into something else. Respect. Love. Care. He wanted Merlin to feel it all and when wet tears fell over Merlin’s cheeks, the prince pulled back and gently chase them his thumbs.

“I need to show you something, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, not letting go of the sorcerer as he gently slapped the back of his head.

“Ouch! It hurts!” protested Merlin, his eyes widening when he realised when he just said … and did. Did he just … had he … no he … oh. Arthur followed his train of thoughts all along and snorted when Merlin yelped, mortified. Trembling fingers before his lips, Merlin shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t … it’s the spell, I guess… I…” Arthur stopped the rambling, forcing his friend to meet his eyes again.

“Don’t apologise. I’m glad you did it … even if you thought this world was an illusion. And I don’t want a world without you. Not now. Not ever. Understood?” with only silence for an answer, the prince continued: “I like you the way you are. Magic or not. Clumsy or not. Brave or coward. It doesn’t matter, OK? By the end of the day, you’re still the same old Merlin. Now that I know the truth, I can help you protect your secret, especially from my father.”

“You… You accept my magic?” Merlin asked, still confused at the mere prospect of being free of any secrets.

“Lancelot talked me out my prejudices.” Arthur admitted. Remembering Lancelot words about how magic was not different from any weapons. Just like a person can either help or kill someone with a sword, the same thing works for magic’s users and as a king, his duty was to bring equal justice in the kingdom. Murder with weapons or magics were both leading to a death sentence. The others shall live free of fear. “Now I see clearly and I promise you this: once I am king, I’ll lift the ban of magic.”

[maryeellison]

Exactly How Does Horticulture Soothe Stress?

One of my favorite tasks is working in my yard; it is additionally a vibrant place to meditate, frequently checked out by numerous winged and four-legged creatures. Remaining in nature, touching the dirt and producing a living landscape is recovery in such a way that resembles absolutely nothing else. The very scent of the dirt, the textures of the barks as well as foliage of eco-friendly plants, the aromatic blossoms, all are an artwork that is calming to the spirit. Horticulture is an imaginative job, done in magnificent 3-D. The pallette you need to collaborate with consists of textures, colors, shapes, appears and also scents. You can grow for wild animals, or for butterflies. Rain yards are a lovely method to deal with drainage from the roof covering, while reenergizing the local groundwater level as opposed to sending out rain down the city drain system. Provided, all this might not work for you if you don't like horticulture. Even if you like the concept of horticulture, as well as possibly have some experience or helped your mommy or grandma in the garden when you were a kid, it is necessary that it not be a task. The most convenient very first blunder is to take on as well much, as well as locate that as opposed to being a tension relief you are worried since the objectives you set are impractical. Rather than end up with a stressful obligation that has actually come to be overwhelming, it is much better to enjoy a potted plant or a single container garden on the patio area, or a hanging planter or 2 by the pathway to welcome you with their joyful color, than to stress out over a large yard that has gone to weeds due to absence of readily available time. Maintain it simple, begin small ... Or even, begin tiny, even indoors with a little terrarium, or a potted team of cactus. One plant that I think about crucial to keep in your home is an aloe plant. It is durable, does not mind indoors as lengthy as the moisture does not obtain as well low, and also is a wonderful medicinal herb for minor burns, scratches and also swellings. One more fun concept, especially if you enjoy to cook, is to keep a little home window natural herb yard. To find out more on expanding your very own kitchen herbs, look into the Organic Gardening website with a wonderful website on expanding herbs indoors. A yard is a way to connect with nature, to slow down as well as remain in the minute, and restore a sense of self in the sound as well as rush of the modern-day urban atmosphere. Leave the phone and various other noisemakers as well as disturbances inside. Obtain a break from computer displays, TELEVISION displays, hand-held gadget displays as well as unwind your gaze to take in a larger sight. If you've ever before experienced chastisement in school from indulging in the easy satisfaction of looking out the home window at gorgeous clouds, you understand what I suggest. My thing is all-natural locations remediation; I am a member of a not-for-profit group that is functioning to set aside all-natural areas for wild animals environment. We restore these locations as close as possible to their pre-settlement problem, with native plants as well as tidy waterways. Naturally, as soon as the native plant neighborhood returns, the wild animals shows up in wealth. You might take pleasure in producing an ecological community in your yard that not just features indigenous plants, yet will certainly bring in wild animals such as jeopardized butterflies, dragonflies, and birds. The National Wild animals Federation site has excellent info on exactly how to produce wildlife environment in your yard or community. Again, be sensible as well as take points in tiny bites; this is a process. If nothing else, nature motivates us to reduce, take our time to appreciate. Take on too much and also we soon fall into stress and also stress and anxiety over approximate, ultimately unsatisfying objectives that we have established for ourselves. You recognize what Pogo stated, "We have actually satisfied the opponent as well as he is us". If you stay in an apartment or condo as well as don't have yard area, you may want to take into consideration participating with the local neighborhood yard - or begin one. The regional neighborhood or community yard can also provide, if you desire, an opportunity to appreciate the benefit of social interaction. Gardening supplies a sense of accomplishment - that is, if we've not overwhelmed ourselves with too much to look after. Not only that, but there is fantastic satisfaction in growing our own vegetables, fruits and fresh herbs. There is no fruit or veggie in the grocery store, nonetheless much money is paid, that will certainly compare with your home-grown, lovingly looked after veggie. Regardless of that it might be a straightforward container-grown cherry tomato. For a fantastic article on the very best tomatoes for container expanding, take a look at what Colleen Vanderlinden needs to state, based upon her individual experience. There is even a motion called "geo-sense" horticulture coming out of Europe. The concept is to make home gardens to give stress and anxiety relief. The practice has deep origins, according to a post by Dr. Leonard P. Perry, Expansion Professor at the College of Vermont. The ancient yards of terrific worlds of Egypt, Persia and also China were designed to bring nature into their city atmospheres. Dr. Perry's article has concepts to include into your yard to make it a setting - a small environment - that is designed for tranquility. In typical Japan, the yard was an expression of Zen ideology. In a post on the Japanese Garden internet site, Dr. Koichi Kawana discusses the philosophy behind typical Japanese yard design. The Valuable Gardener web site is another excellent internet site explains the conventional Japanese Garden, and its underlying Zen approach. The yard, whether it is a huge plot or a simple mini ecosystem in a container, embodies numerous points; spiritual philosophy, connectedness with nature, a living imaginative development, being grounded with our hands literally in the dirt, expanding and also offering ourselves and also liked ones with our very own exceptional food. All these things are the bounty that nature supplies - openly provided, asking for simply a little touch of loving hands. If you appreciate horticulture, tell us about your experiences, and also whether or not you find gardening to be loosening up. Do you discover it an obstacle to discover the moment you wish to work in the yard? Have you been challenged by trying to do excessive? Just how do you balance the satisfaction with the job required to keep your garden healthy? Are you an "au natural" garden enthusiast, or do you favor a neat and also organized layout? Does it appear to bring you closer to nature, or perhaps to an introspective, spiritual experience? A number of us that consider horticulture organically, appear to have images of bearded human warriors who will dedicate their entire life to working on their veggie yards. This maybe a fantastic method for somebody to live, but for the ordinary person, this possibly rather difficult. Especially when you work in the factors such as having job, and having a home mortgage to pay off. When you grow food, several see it as an ability, simply put the tend to linked it with either a lot of work, or a type of art. Suppose there was a technique that was very easy to utilize, as well as gives those who lead a hectic life, an opportunity to expand vegetables in their yard. Alternate horticulture, may simply be the option to those that may not have the moment to expand a veggie garden. This is a practical, contemporary method of making as well as creating a vegetable story. There are a few changes that you will need to make in order to utilize this gardening approach. These approaches will ultimately alter the means you do your gardening and also grow your vegetables. The method alternative horticulture is various is for one, you will need to grow a great deal more plants right into your yard to fill the rooms. The 2nd component is, you will certainly never ever have to collect any dirt. The third component is, you will need to boost your degree of composting that you will make use of in your garden, because composting is a vital part in making this type of gardening work. Once you take on these approaches, you will certainly start to discover remarkable changes within your yard. One of these adjustments that you will certainly discover is that the garden will start to take a type of its own. Your weeds will stop appearing as well as ruin your garden, and also your plants will certainly start to live for a lot longer. Your plants will certainly likewise call for less water, thanks to transforming your garden into an alternative gardening system, as well as you will probably be collecting practically everyday of the year. Knowing exactly how this works, is all based on science, and also the technique utilized as by environmentalist. What you will certainly discover, when implementing the strategies made use of for this style of horticulture is that utilizing scientific research in your technique of building and also producing plants, is the best way to create as well as grow plants. This method has actually been adopted by producing a community that is comprised of plants that are edible. This plants that are now in this environment will react and act in the same way as it carries out in its own all-natural environment. As soon as you begin alternative gardening, you will certainly notice that there is extremely little job to do in your place. You will certainly be doing little work to preserve your garden, as your plants are getting all the products as well as nutrients that it requires, as a result of the way you have set up your plants. You will likewise become even more of a viewer than a gardener, as the veggie garden is doing all the help you.

[the-gayest-dump]

A half-orc and his ax. Chapter 1: Welcome to Warwick.

   It’s been a year since the death of the battleborn tribe. Ox was now 21 and had been living off of the land just as his mother had taught him. Kill and take only what you need, use every piece of your kill, never kill the women or children, and always replace what you take when you can. 

   The half-orc was seven feet of muscular and scarred gray skin now wearing an iron helmet that covered his entire head but his eyes and jaw. The helmet had a cut on the left side from where Ox had knocked the former wearer down but it still served its purpose. He chose not to wear a shirt so he could move easier and show his enemies that this was not his first battle. The only thing that covered his back was his father’s ax that fit into a holster that slung through his arms like a travelers’ backpack and let the ax stay on his back. The ax had a dark green blade with blades on both the left and right side so its owner could cut in any direction necessary and a long handle for two hands. Third-degree burns went around his arms and several scars from cuts too deep to heal covered his chest and back. He knew the story and face of every scar and who caused it for he was proud to have fought a worthy opponent. His pants were made of simple brown wool that reached his black leather boots that were from his father.

   The brute had been surviving well off of the land but he could not do everything himself. He was a warrior, not a medic or priest. He knew of simple remedies using the medicine the local flora provided but the wounds he was receiving were beginning to be too big for a novice healer to handle. He knew a town was nearby his camp for he set it up there on purpose to protect them if bandits ever attempted to raid them but Ox was not sure what would await him inside those gates. He was raised to know that all living beings are strong in their own way but what would they think of a battle-scarred warrior walking into their town? He had never been in a town and for all he knew he was a completely new creature that no one had ever seen before. How would they react to not only a warrior but a half-orc warrior? He decided to take a day to introduce himself to the town and hopefully make some allies.

   It was a bright and sunny day when Ox prepared for his journey into the city. It had rained the night before but now not a single cloud lingered. Ox put out his campfire after finishing the boar he had caught the day before and set out towards the town. A ten-foot-tall wall made out of cobblestone surrounded the town from basic intruders such as wildlife and bandits with no tools. Archers filled small towers every few feet to keep a lookout and provide support to fighting guards. Ox approached the large oak gate where he saw merchants enter frequently when two spears crossed together and blocked his path. He looked at the two guards wondering what they were doing as this had never happened for the merchants.

“You ain’t from around here big guy. State your business.” Stated the guard to his left. They were both outfitted in iron armor that covered their entire bodies with a single slit to see through on the helmets. The voice sounded deep and wise as an old veteran warrior.

“Business?” 

“Why do you wish to enter?” Clarified the other. This voice sounded lighter and calmer than the other. 

“Ox lives near town.” He said pointing to where he had set up camp for the night. “Ox wants to meet people and see how Ox can help.”

The guards looked at each other as if comparing notes with their eyes to tell if the other trusted him or not. 

“If work is what you’re looking for there’s a notice board in the central plaza. Don’t cause any trouble and there won’t be any trouble. Got it?” 

“Plaza?”

The left guard sighed as the right clarified again “Big open area in the center of down. Keep going forward from this gate and you’ll see it. Welcome to Warwick”

Ox nodded as the guards removed their spears and the gate opened. As he entered he could hear the guards whisper

“Not too bright that one is he?” Said the man that was to his left.

“Like you can talk. Last night you couldn’t remember your husband’s name and you’ve been together for 5 years now.” replied the girl.

“That’s different. You know how I am with too much mead. That ones completely sober and doesn’t seem to know how a pronoun works!”

“Yeah, and Joseph is a hard name to remember, right old man?”

“This is why we never talk on duty.”

   Not the best but certainly not the worst way Ox had been greeted before. Inside the gates, the town had simple worn down dirt paths showing the most common routes to all of the homes and stores which were made primarily of wood with strong oak doors. Pine and oak trees could be seen surrounding the outside walls and signs jotted out of every building that was not a home telling what they were. Most of these words Ox had never seen before. Temple? Witches cauldron? Leatherworkers? He would have to explore these after finding the notice board. The streets were almost empty aside from smaller vendors shouting for attention. 

   Following the guards’ directions, Ox found the notice board that seemed to be made of parchment more than wood with several notices covering older ones. Most of the notices were from the town guards about festival times or public notices with some bounties here and there. Some notices, despite being hidden underneath several others, caught the brute’s eye. One said “Please save our little girl” and showed a crude drawing of a half-elf girl that looked to be in her teens and immediately beside it “WANTED: Alasar “Deaths Hand” Yanthor. Dead or alive”. With another drawing showing a middle-aged….creature that was certainly not any race he had ever seen. Scales covered the man’s face as if he was an overgrown lizard with a large maniacal smile showing that sharp carnivorous teeth filled his mouth while piercing eyes seemed to scream “Catch me if you can”. Both were posted near the same date but had been on the board for weeks. Ox took both of them off the board and followed the address listed if interested. 

   The directions brought Ox to a two-story building made of cobblestone with a sign coming out of the wall that said “Armory”. An area next to the door had been cut out to let citizens watch the guards train or talk to the person at the desk inside the armory. A girl with dark brown hair raised into a small ponytail was currently behind the desk wearing the same armor as the gate guards but had taken off the helmet for comfort and visibility. She was mumbling to herself as Ox approached saying “Can’t believe those fuckers gave me desk duty again. You break ONE man’s arm and-.” She stopped when she noticed Ox standing awkwardly beside the desk waiting for her to finish as not to be rude. With a very noticeable fake cheery voice, she introduced herself 

“Well hello there!” The fake cheer annoyed Ox more than it should have but he let her continue “My name is Opal and I’ll be answering any questions you have today.” She finished with a smile that seemed like it physically hurt her to put on as the warrior put the notices down in front of her 

“Where find family and bastard?” He explained pointing at the daughter and bandit respectively.

“First of all let me speak on behalf of the city of Warwick by thanking you for-”

“Stop.” Ox interrupted.

“Stop?”

“No fake voice, no smile. Ox will not tell others. Just be self.” He tried giving a reassuring smile that just seemed weird to her but she got the point. 

“Oh thank Marisol I hate putting on that persona for the people!” she exclaimed in a much lower and natural-sounding voice. “I shouldn’t have to sound like a merchant trying to sell some garbage she paid too much for and has to make a profit to people. I’m a guard! I’m supposed to sound tough to show people they’re safe!” she sighed and collected herself before continuing 

“Sorry. Long day. Anyway, the Gray household is next to the leatherworkers. They can tell you about the kidnapping and this-” She stopped upon seeing the wanted poster and leaned back in her wooden chair to get a better look at the new person in town. “I haven’t seen you here before” she stated looking at the ax and scars on Ox “You’re clearly no trainee with that many stories to tell on you. What’s your game? Bounty hunter? Sellsword? A knight that lost his armor?” 

Ox looked more and more confused with each suggestion. Were these clan names? The last one seemed too long to be a clan but that was all he could think of.

“Battleborn” he replied hoping he guessed correctly.

“The fuck is a battleborn? That the name of your group?”

“Clan.”

“What’s your code of arms?” 

Instead of answering he tried to change the subject so more strange words wouldn’t come out of her mouth “Why does angry one care?”

“These are high-level bounties you’re picking up here. Both related to each other and I don’t want to send some newbie to his death. This isn’t some kid who ran away from home and made a band of idiots serve him. This is a dragonborn who’ll roast you without any pleasantries.”

“Dragonborn?”

“Person with a high amount of dragon in their blood. Not a direct descendant but enough to gain some benefits from his bloodline. Elemental breath of whatever their ancestor likes, sharp claws, natural scales, and usually a massive ego.”

“Ox can take scaley man down a size. Where is bastard?”

“Alright. Don’t come crying to me when those burns on your arm start adding up. If you go out the north gate and follow the road you’ll see an old fort. That’s where he is and presumably where he’s keeping the girl. Come back here with his head and the girl as proof and you’ll get some gold for your trouble. Don’t come back and I’ll mention how strange you look in some stories at the tavern.” 

“Thank you. Ox will be back tomorrow”

“I look forward to it.”

   Finding the Gray household wasn’t as easy as the armory since all houses were nearly identical in structure and materials but eventually Ox found the correct house and lightly knocked on the door. He had to crouch down so his face could be seen through the door since this town was obviously not built for anyone above 6ft tall. A small woman with dark wrinkly skin and medium length straight gray hair answered the door as she was talking to someone 

“I promise I’ll remember the peaches this time dear I’ve even written it on my- AHHH!” She let out a horrid scream upon seeing Ox in her doorway and he grabbed his ax and looked for who had frightened her. She slammed the door as he continued searching and she screamed “Guard! Guards how the hell did a bandit get in the city!?” 

Not finding anyone that matched her description and all nearby eyes being on Ox he finally realized he was the ‘bandit’ in question and knocked on the door again “Ox is not a bandit. Ox wants to help wi-”

“You can help yourself to a big slice of burn in hell! Was taking our daughter not enough for you fuckers!? You want to come and finish us off now!?” 

Since the house was close to the gate one of the guards for it came rushing over to the disturbance “Hey there again big guy. Find everything alright? Sorry about my friend. He’s just cranky all the time.”

Ox wondered how she could be so calm when someone was calling for her to take off his head but nodded and showed her the notices he had taken.

“Can’t wait to see those done. Oh and don’t worry about Mrs. Gray. She scares easily. Having her think you’re a bandit that got a hold of guard armor is practically a part of your initiation here. Sorry for not warning you about her”

“Ox is sorry to scare her. Can scared one please calm down?” He said sounding sad for disturbing this woman.

“Yeah hold on.” the guard went up and knocked loudly on the door and screamed in “Mrs. Gray there’s no bandits for the thousandth time this month! This here is a new person who wants to help ya find your daughter and kill Alasar!” 

“Well, why didn’t he speak up or at least put on a damn shirt!? Not right walking around civilized folk like you just crawled out of a cave!” she said as she opened the door again. Ox looked at himself and thought ‘Ox not from cave…..’ as she invited him to crouch inside. 

   The home was rather small with the kitchen and living room only separated by kitchen counters and three closed doors along the walls. The living room had a few chairs and a table with a bottom compartment that held various tools for hobbies such as sewing and woodworking kits. Ox took a seat as he waited for details.

“Honey! Another one wants to disappoint us today!” Mrs. Gray called out. Another elderly woman with a lighter skin tone and hair kept in a bun came out “I told you time and time again if you keep talking like that no one’s going to ever volunteer again.” She looked at Ox with a smile and held out her hand “Stella Gray. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Ox. Ox knows-” 

“Yeah, you know everything we put on that notice. She was taken late at night while trying to find local ingredients to cook with when bandits nabbed her. Guards told you where the fort is. Now get going” 

   Stella silently glared at her partner before she corrected herself with a sigh “Look. I’m sorry. You’re probably a swell fellow and you’re very skilled and offering to help from the bottom of your heart but I’m just tired. Our little girl has been gone for weeks and every week some brave young adventuring type swears on their life they’ll get Sylis back and the next day either their corpse turns up at the gate or they come back with a bunch of excuses about how tough they are and they couldn’t do anything and blah, blah, blah.” She put her head in her hands and sighed again as Stella continued

“Sylis isn’t our daughter through blood as you can probably tell from the picture. We found her lost in the woods outside town and tried to find her parents. The guards found them but not in any kind of state a little girl should be hearing her parents are in. We tried finding someone to take her in since we thought ourselves too old to be caring for younglings but no one would have her and treat her right. We don’t know why bandits would take her of all people from this town. We’re not wealthy by any means so we can’t pay any ransom even if we did receive one.”

“Ox will not bore wise ones with Ox’s skills since wise ones have heard skills before but Ox will try to bring little one home safe and take bastards head with.”

“Well, we look forward to it if you can. I wish I could offer you more information or something to help you but that’s all we know. May Marisol light your way.” They both waved goodbye to Ox as he left the city gates and once again heard the guards talking behind him.

“You think he’s gonna make it?”

“You ever seen someone that big before old man? He can definitely take Alasar one on one but I don’t know about his entire camp.”

“50 gold says we find his corpse at the gate next shift”

“You really wanna lose your gold that bad? Deal.”

‘At least someone believes in Ox’ he thought. They will know that Ox does not break promises, especially concerning the death of bandits, in due time.

[lauravanarendonkbaugh]

At some recent point we crossed into four-digit territory here and I didn't even notice. So in the way of celebration, here's an in-progress peek at Blood & Bond, #3 in the Shard of Elan series. ~~~ Mage Parma called a distracted permission to whoever knocked at her door as she sorted her newly purchased powders into their appropriate drawers. She was mildly surprised when she turned to see two Gerhn priests. “Well, I suppose this was inevitable.” She strode to her worktable and sat down, facing them. “What have you come to say?” She did not offer chairs, but they took them anyway. Both wore blue garments, marking them as significant members of the Gehrn hierarchy, but neither wore the layered robes of the high priest. Flamen Ande still lived, prisoner though he was. “I am Flamen Mennti, acting high priest of the Holy Order of the Gehrn. This is Flemen Gregorio.” “I see.” As she was not pleased to meet them, she did not feel obligated to say so. Flamen Mennti folded his hands. “I presume you are aware of our petitions regarding the trial of Flemen Ande.” “I am. The trial has been suspended once already, to allow mages to review the magic in the ritual—the ritual you did not provide us, I might mention, the one which destroyed the shield protecting the kingdom. The unworking of the shield could not have been accomplished with the actions originally described. Flamen Ande must have done other what what he said, and he must have had Ryuven blood to use, which suggests forethought and intent. This has made your petition to release him, shall we say, unrealistic.” Flamen Mennti shook his head. “That is not true. Flamen Ande would have followed the rituals exactly, both the annual rites and the purification of a new site—” Elysia turned up a palm, a gesture of self-evidence. “That is something you must discuss with Flamen Ande, not me.” “But we have come to talk with you,” he pressed. “We have written our petitions for the release of Flamen Ande, both to the crown and to the Great Circle.” “It is the White Mage who would receive such a letter,” she said. He had, she knew, and she had been grateful it had not been her responsibility. “We have not had a satisfactory answer.” That meant Ewan had not promised them the release of their high priest. “We have also sent several letters to you, the Silver Mage, but we have had no answer.” She had burned them. “The Great Circle does not have authority over legal affairs,” she said, mostly patiently. “Ande is a prisoner of the crown and charged with treason.” “But the mages of the Circle are well-respected and have great influence.” Mennti leaned forward. “You could speak for us.” Revulsion lanced through Elysia’s gut like a bolt of battle magic. “I could, but I will not,” she said flatly. “If that is what you have come to ask, then we are finished.” “We are not finished,” Flamen Gregorio said, speaking for the first time. His penetrating eyes were fixed on her. Mennti raised a hand. “Not yet. I believe Mage Parma may still wish to help us.” “Not likely,” Elysia said. “If reasonable talk will not persuade her, perhaps she can be persuaded in other ways.” Elysia did not like the tone this conversation was taking. “You have already heard that the Great Circle cannot interfere in a legal trial, and especially not one for treason. And you have been reminded that I do not wish to involve myself in this particular trial. Nor do I think that Mage Hazelrig, the elder, will be particularly anxious to help free the man whose actions nearly cost the life of his daughter, the younger Mage Hazelrig.” “That is why we have not approached him again,” Flamen Gregorio said, biting off the words as if they offended him. “And you think I will be a softer mark for your petition?” Elysia shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can accommodate you. Please close the door on your way out.” Gregorio shifted forward in his seat. “Mage Parma, are you familiar with the Gehrn order? Our history, our—” “If you mean to ask if I am aware of what you are and what you do, then yes, I am,” Elysia interrupted. “As it had never been previously important or interesting, I made time to look into it after your first message. I have read your history, both the alleged founding by Red Harper after he left Bloody-Neck Jacko and the truth that no such connection was ever claimed until two centuries after. I know how you prepare for an all-encompassing war, I even know how you practice the arts of war, to a degree.” She crossed her legs. “But you might recall that I, too, practice war, and not in philosophy but in fact, and not against slaves and prisoners in ceremonial fittings but against winged and magical opponents with proper armor and weapons. So if you mean to intimidate me, Flamen Gregorio, as your Third Tenet encourages in negotiations, you should be aware that what you attempt is both illegal and difficult.” “You cannot charge that we have come to intimidate you,” Flamen Mennti said quickly. “We have only knocked at your office door and asked for your help.” “And I have told you I cannot give it.” Elysia sat back in her chair and waved her hand in a half-hearted dismissal. “The door, if you please.” via Laura VanArendonk Baugh, author https://ift.tt/2csuue1

[drowning-in-dennor]

Match

It’s time for Henrik’s very first debate match, and he’s about to learn just how dangerous Stellan can be on the speaker’s podium.

(This is the second part to Prep, which you can read here.)

  The timer ticks to zero.

  The buzzer rings.

  “All right, everyone!” Feliciano jumps up from his seat. “Time’s up, and our eight lucky speakers are going to come out and start the first debate this year!”

  Staring down at his dull-looking notes, Henrik picks up his stationery and water bottle, following Stellan and sitting down at a row of chairs designated for the debaters.

  He looks around at his opponents - Ludwig and Feliciano in Opening Government, Vicente and Madeline in Opening Opposition, and Alfred and Arthur in Closing Opposition. I’m the only one newbie speaking today, Henrik thinks nervously, just great.

  The timekeeper, a committee member named Kiku, clears his throat and looks down at his notes. “Today, we’ll be debating on the motion, ‘This House Regrets the narrative of college as the main path to success’. Speeches are six minutes long, and points of information will be allowed after the first and before the last minutes of the debate. We now welcome the Prime Minister to begin the debate.”

  The quiet beeps of Kiku’s timer sound as Ludwig steps out to face his teammates, holding a small stack of cue cards in his hand. He nods at Kiku, who starts the timer.

  A small scrap of paper slides to Henrik. He picks it up, reading, “make some extensions on the main points in Ludwig’s speech. Don’t worry about the clashes - I’ll talk about those.”

  He looks at Stellan, already busy scrawling away in his notebook. Picking up his pen, Henrik looks at Ludwig, who switches to another cue card and continues speaking.

 A bell chimes. Five minutes left.

  Ludwig clears his throat. “There are many, many alternatives to college that provide students with an equally rewarding future, such as -”

  Henrik winces as Stellan elbows him sharply, giving him a look that clearly says, ‘write that down’. The nib of his pen scratching over the lines of his notebook, Henrik feels his hand cramp as he tries to record everything Ludwig says.

  “Trade school and vocational training, for example...”

  Stellan’s pen cap flies across the desk and across Henrik’s notebook. When Henrik looks over to his teammate, he sees him writing so quickly his pen’s a blur, the page filled with nigh-illegible points.

  By the time Ludwig’s done with his speech, Henrik’s entire page is filled with messily-written extensions, half-points and maybe-arguments and his head is spinning. 

  “We now invite the leader of the Opposition side to introduce their case.”

  The speaker steps out with lined paper in his hand, and at the corner of his eye, Henrik sees the girl in his team give him an encouraging thumbs-up.

  Beep. The timer starts again.

  He’s not as good as Ludwig, but Henrik can tell from how Ludwig and Feliciano exchange whispers that his words pack a punch. He hears Stellan flip to another page in his notebook, scribbling furiously as the speaker continues talking.

  Like before, Kiku presses the bell, signalling the first minute of the speech to be over.

  The speaker scans the bottom of his page. “Yielding high-income occupation in the STEM, medical and law fields, college -”

  “Point.”

  A chair scrapes next to him, and Henrik looks to see Stellan on his feet, pressing one hand on the desk and staring at the speaker. When he nods, Stellan asks, “according to that point, does that mean that the level of income is equivalent to that of success?”

  For a split second, the room is dead silent. Then the speaker’s calm façade returns, and he says, “well, a well-paying job will ensure better material life. Continuing with my point...”

  ‘Keep writing down Vicente’s points,’ Stellan’s next note reads, ‘make rebuttals if you can.’

  And once again, Henrik finds himself in a frenzy, keeping up with Vicente’s speech and grateful for how slowly he speaks. He sighs in relief as Kiku declares his time to be up, and Feliciano steps out.

  He picks up the third note as Stellan continues writing out rebuttals. ‘Feliciano’s a force to be reckoned with. Let me write down his points this time.’

  Looking at Feliciano, carefully placing sheets of colourful, highlighted paper on the desk, Henrik can’t see just how dangerous he can be.

  Then he speaks.

  It’s like being hit with a torrent, swirling and wild and uncontrollable, as Feliciano bursts into a wave of rebuttals, knocking down point after point like a sniper firing bullets. He waves his hands, sways from foot to foot, speaks with such ardour and passion that Henrik almost believes him. By the time the first minute is over, Feliciano’s rebutted almost all of Vicente’s case.

  All the while, Stellan’s writing, his gaze burning a hole through his notebook and his pen pressing so hard into the paper it’s a miracle it doesn’t tear. 

  Nobody dares to make a point of information, not with the rapid flow of Feliciano’s speech.

  When Feliciano returns to his seat, Opening Opposition is in stunned silence. The vice-leader of opposition is taking notes rapidly, before Kiku clears his throat and she steps out.

  A fourth note. ‘Give a point of information in Madeline’s speech.’

  And, for the fourth time, Henrik picks up his pen and prepares to be thrown into a flurry of copying and countering.

  He gives a silent prayer of thanks when Madeline starts her speech, finding it far slower and clearer than the past three speeches. Henrik listens, heart pounding in anticipation, as the bell chimes.

  “Let’s take street cleaners for example, most of whom did not go to university. They’re usually seen as having a lower social status than, say, those with a bachelor’s degree.”

  Henrik stands up, shaking slightly. “Er, point of information.”

  Madeline lowers her notepad slightly. “Yes?”

  “So, does that mean that success is measured by reputation?”

  Stellan gives him a nod of approval.

  “Thank you for your question.” Madeline waves for Henrik to sit down. “Regarding that, what I meant to say was...”

  He sighs in relief as he slumps back into his seat, still feeling the rush of adrenaline from speaking for the first time in the debate. 

  When Madeline finishes her speech, Kiku clears his throat. “The first half of the match has concluded. We now welcome the member of the government to begin his case.”

  Sparing but a brief glance for Henrik, Stellan picks up his notebook and steps out to face the judges.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 196: Beastmode, Brainwashing, and Batrachian Bullshit

Previously on BnHA: Everyone said hi to their new brother Shinsou. Aizawa and Vlad announced the specifics of the day’s training exercise. Each class was split into 5 groups of 4 which will be pitted against each other one at a time. The goal of the exercise is for a team to successfully capture all 4 members of the opposing team and throw them into cute Rat Principal jail. Shinsou was randomly assigned to join one team each from class A and class B. He just so happened to be teamed up with class A’s first group, which also includes Kirishima, Kaminari, Kouda, and Tsuyu. They’re up against class B’s team of Shiozaki, Sabretooth Shishida, Tsuburaba, and some guy with a braid and a visor that reminds me of those Kanye glasses. The battle began and the 1-A kids pondered how best to sic Kaminari on the 1-B group. But before they could figure something out, Shishida -- who has a literal beastmode quirk -- and Tsuburaba came barreling at them in a surprise attack. They were just about to strike a finishing blow when Shinsou suddenly shouted something using Tsubu’s voice, revealing that the weird mask thing he’s been wearing is actually a voice changer, oh damn.

Today on BnHA: Shinsou uses his quirk on Shishida, but a quick-thinking Tsuburaba traps him inside a soundproof air box and then quickly snaps Shishi out of it. Shishi proceeds to slam Kaminari into a wall but gets himself zapped in the process. Tsuyu takes advantage of the chaos to snag Tsuburaba with her frog tongue and haul him off to jail. When Shishida lumbers after them, Kirishima and Kouda intervene, but Shishida uses his beastmode to fling Kirishima like 50 feet into the air, where he’s then captured by Shiozaki’s vines. Shishi grabs Kouda and takes off, giving B Team a 2-1 lead. The teams regroup, and Shinsou apologizes to Tsuyu and Kaminari for failing to capture Shishida more quickly. The other two reassure him and Kaminari declares his friendship, before Tsuyu announces that she has a new plan. Turns out that Kaminari fired his pointer disc thingy earlier and planted it on Shishida, which means that they can now track his location. We then cut to Team B and Shishida, who is sniffing around unawares trying to track the rest of Team A. Suddenly he announces that Tsuyu is heading towards them... and there are apparently three of her.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 222, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

awesome, a flashback explaining Shinsou’s quirk! I know some of this already because it was mentioned in response to my speculation about Izuku being AFO’s son and potentially having the AFO quirk. but it’s still cool to get to this point in canon

so basically, Shinsou just concentrates and thinks “brainwash that person” and then tries to get the target to respond, and if they do then he gains control over them and they’ll do whatever he says (unless they can snap out of it like Izuku did; it takes a “certain degree of force” to accomplish that)

and he says that although he’s never tried, he doesn’t think he would be concentrate enough to brainwash more than one person at a time

now that part I did not know, and it makes this fight much more interesting! because I assume he’s targeting Beastmode who is the biggest threat here. but it means that they still have to deal with Tsuburaba though

also doesn’t this contradict what we saw in the sports festival, though? he had multiple people brainwashed at once for sure there. “never tried it” my ass

(ETA: I think what this means is that he has to brainwash them one at a time. he can control multiple people at once, but if he were faced with four different un-brainwashed people and he tried to get them to all fall under his control simultaneously he wouldn’t be able to handle it, basically.)

and this is interesting too

so much for any fleeting hope that Shinsou could potentially serve as a truth serum character in Nemoto’s place. damn

wow he’s really getting detailed here

this is actually encouraging to me, because it means that Horikoshi is taking steps to add more checks and balances to Shinsou’s super OP quirk (making it so that he can’t just interrogate villains that easily for instance), which suggests that he’s getting ready to add him as a full time character. bring it on!

so flashback!Kaminari, who really isn’t as dumb as everyone always makes him out to be -- having the lowest test scores in a class full of geniuses is hardly anything to be ashamed of -- is saying that it must be tough now that everyone knows how Shinsou’s quirk works from the sports festival

and now flashback!Shinsou is pointing to his voice changer mask and explaining its purpose

...hold up, what? it loses its effectiveness? than what is the point

okay I just went and found Mangastream’s translation which makes much more sense, here it is

looks like I’m gonna have to go back and forth between these scanlations today. or maybe I’ll just stick with MS for now because this is the third issue the JBox translation has had in as many pages, so

(ETA: yeah, aside from this one panel I ended up just using MS for everything because it’s easier and I don’t have to worry as much about inaccuracies.)

that sounds like some bullshit as far as the explanation for how this thing changes his voice, but it’s The Future so I’ll roll with it lol

anyway so Kaminari is thoroughly impressed and says that with that he’s basically unbeatable

he’s not, though. as long as the opponent takes care not to respond to any voice, no matter who they think it is, they’re safe. though it does hamper their ability to communicate with each other

but anyways, I suppose situations like that are where the capture weapon comes in, though I imagine he’s still very much a novice. I seem to recall that it took Aizawa a number of years to master it himself, and Shinsou’s only had about six months

so flashback Shinsou is saying that whether the voice changer is strong or not depends on him

and as he says that, the flashback is ending and we’re cutting back to the present

and he’s unveiling the capture scarf! yessssss

-- uh oh

lol well that’s one effective way to shut him down

and now Tsubu is smacking Sabretooth upside the head to snap him out of the brainwashing

damn, class B. not bad

and now they know what’s what

but this must have given the other class A kids a few essential seconds to regroup, right? Kami where are you, let’s do this

why does this panel make it look like his attack is focused in his hand. the human stun gun method would work just as well in this case so long as you’re quick. though I get why you’d maybe want to keep your distance from Beastmode there

nooooooooo

MY BOY SACRIFICED HIMSELF

or Beastmode sacrificed himself. because he must have known what would happen if he touched him, but by doing so he took out class A’s queen in exchange for a measly pawn or knight or bishop or whatever you want to make him in this stupid chess metaphor I pulled out of my ass lol

(ETA: actually THEY’RE BOTH FINE SOMEHOW so never mind! April Fool’s, I guess.)

meanwhile Tsubu jumped off of his back just in time to avoid being stunned himself

Tsuyu you better take this guy out. he’s too good and you’ve still got Shiozaki and Braidvisor to deal with on top of that

oh thank god, he’s still in one piece. I know, it’s just a training exercise, but y’all know how brutal this school can be, and what with them having access to Recovery Girl, they’re probably cool with letting the kids take a fair amount of punishment before they’d actually consider stepping in

(ETA: listen, these supposedly responsible adults were apparently cool with everyone potentially burning to death two fights from now, so I feel like I was absolutely right to be concerned here.)

ahh, there we go!

yes Tsuyu yessss, you know I love it when characters actually listen to me lol

-- oh shit

YEAH WHAT GIVES

Kouda and Kirishima are stepping in to give Tsu some cover though!

I’m a little worried about Kouda but at least Kiri is in Unbreakable mode. sure hope his time limit on that has increased

oh snap!!

[theme from Ant-Man intensifies]

look who got over his fear of bugs! I’m so proud of you Kouda

HEY WHAT

THAT’S CHEATING

son of a bitch. I really ought to be rooting for class B here because they need to win at least two of the first three in order for this to play out the way I want it to with Bakugou and Deku’s matches both being do-or-die, everything-on-the-line. which means only one of the other 3 class A teams can win, and so I want that to be Momo lol

but it’s just so hard to go against that natural instinct to root for class A, man. these are my children, give me a break

anyway, Shishida says that Kiri is the only one who can pose a threat to his ability, and that’s why he’s...

...punting him into the sky oh good lord

KIRIIIII

oh snap he’s remembering their intel about Shiozaki coming at them from the left

and he’s looking to the left and AHHHHHH

JESUS CHRIST CLASS B I WAS HOPING TO GET A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP TONIGHT

and now Shishida is free to kick Kouda’s ass oh shit

Kami’s running over to try and save him, and he’s firing his disc weapon!

Shishi’s dodging but that’s okay since as we know, this is a two-stage attack

Tsuyu’s descending on Shishi from behind, but it seems like he’s aware of her presence

these guys have a counter for everything, goddamn

and now he’s bounding off with Kouda in tow

and just like that, the formerly outnumbered class B is now tied with class A in terms of available manpower

but class B actually has the advantage now because they’ve captured two of class A’s members whereas only one of their team was captured. meaning that if they just wait out the clock, they’ll win

so now class A has to go on the offensive, which is gonna be tough because Tsuyu is more suited to rescue operations than combat, and Shinsou is still just a novice. so they really only have Kami, and they’ll have to be very careful with how they use him because if he gets taken out they’re screwed

seems like the odds were in class B’s favor from the start for this battle. their team is all powerhouses, whereas this is arguably class A’s weakest team in terms of combat quirks. damn

why is he guarding the cells? once they’re captured they’re out. there’s no rescue element to this game as far as I recall, he should be out in the field with the others

lol meanwhile the captured Tsuburaba is trying to figure out whether he accidentally got to first base

the answer is no but good try kid

also who’s commentating. this definitely isn’t Aizawa or Vlad, or All Might either. the only other teacher there is Midnight, as far as I know, but this doesn’t quite sound like her either. did Mic skip out on his afternoon classes in order to come watch too. is there anyone left to actually teach school right now

now Tsuyu is busting through Shinsou’s air prison with a lead pipe

she says the air barriers are much stronger than they were back at the sports festival when Bakugou was able to break through with his bare fist

and now she’s all “class B sure is strong” and YEAH

LOOOOOOOOOL

SO IT WAS VLAD OH MY GOD ARE YOU SERIOUS. THIS IS A WHOLE NEW SIDE OF YOU AND I LOVE IT

sorry Mina but this is class B’s day today honey

Sero and Satou are discussing Shishida who seems to be the breakout star of class B so far in this battle

but meanwhile Deku’s focus is on Shinsou, which is smart given that he’s going to have to go up against him in just a little bit

and meanwhile Kami is turning to Tsuyu for leadership now

yeah, you really didn’t play that out so well. you already knew his quirk going in, basically. you could have spent that time coming up with a strategy

poor Shinsou

he has very expressive eyes. I can’t believe we had to wait nearly 200 chapters for this boy to finally become one of the main characters

Tsuyu says she should be the one apologizing

well. yes, you guys should have had a plan. but I’m not so sure about the not-having-him-on-the-front-lines part. you all are so good yourselves precisely because you’ve been on the front lines from day one. trial by fire runs in class A’s blood, so let him get a taste of that too, maybe

Kaminari says it’s impressive that Shinsou did even as well as he did, and that he saved his ass

Kaminari honestly gives Kirishima a run for his money as the goodest boy in 1-A. this kid is affectionate with everyone

Shinsou is brushing off the compliment like a good tsundere and he’s all “...whatever” and says they should come up with a plan

EWWWWW

TSUYU WHY

she’s telling Kami to “look at his pointer.” what?

and now we’re cutting to class B again

actually they’d really be better off just booking it out of there and hiding someplace to wait until the time runs out now. the 1-A team has no trackers left and like I said earlier, they currently have the advantage. there’s no point in confronting the rest of them and risking getting caught

I was waiting to see if someone would point this out like they usually do, but it appears this time they’re not! Horikoshi is this a plot hole or are they just not thinking this through

you can actually avoid him either way, dude. seriously

ah, looks like he smells something all of a sudden

what the hell is going on

how is he amazing for having failed to notice something lol

(ETA: or, duh, it’s sarcasm doy)

so okay, now Kaminari is running somewhere and he’s all charged up and thinking back to when Mei first made his little stun gun

-- oh!

how did he not notice that lol omg

this means that if Kami gets in range he can take him out with one shot!

holy shit!!

SINCE WHEN IS THIS SOMETHING A FROG CAN DO

but now Shiozaki is stepping up to bat oh shit

my dudes are we actually going to get the Tsuyu battle we were robbed of back during the internship arc. holy shiiiiiit

and that’s it for today! tune in tomorrow to find out what kind of bizarre frog shit our beloved Froppy will pull out of her hat next

[ghostgirlvii-art]

After a year, I gave a good reference sheet/info. Blank template

Info below;

Personal Description

  Name:  Kokoro Kurone  (黒音 心 Kurone Kokoro)   Nickname: Koko, Kuro   Age: Unspecified   Date of Birth: September 30th   Gender: Female   Hero Name: Kurotsume (くろつ��� 'Black claws')   Alias: None

Occupation: Pro Hero

     Background: Born in the Naruhata district, Kokoro was the black sheep of black sheep. Her parents being both crooks and villains, she spent the first eight years of her life being the witness of bulgary and robbery. It wasn't unsual for her to be picked at school and see stolen good in the back of the car. Kokoro, unlike her parents, showed all the wants to become a hero, which caused a lot of friction with her mother. At the age of eight, Kokoro was the one to take the decision to move with her paternal grandmotherin the Hosu district. From here, she had all the support to follow her dreams to be a hero. She never head of her parents again from that day. Kokoro studied hard to become the hero she is. The truth about her family always left her the need that she had to work twice as hard to prove she was a hero and not a villain. Over the years, this became a secret she kept for herself. Only her closest friends knew about it. She became a hero who rather liked to work under the spotlight, being famous never been her first motive to become a hero.

Appearance

  Hair Color: Brown   Eye Color: Blue   Height: 175cm   Weight: 65kg

Personality

Positive: Optimistic | Empathic | Caring Negative: Impulsive | Foolhardy Neutral: Honest | Loyal | Wise

Likes: Calm morning, pastry, winter, children smiles Dislikes: Loud places, crowds, unprofessional heroes Hobbies: Do nothing day, social time with friends, tai chi

      Personality: Kokoro is a very caring person who live by the motto "I'll sacrify myself if I need to." She remains a calm person in all time, except if the pressure is too much. She try to think before acting, but it rarely works.   Always have a kind word or a hear to listen. However, despite being a nice civilian, hero Kokoro is very professional. She's stern with interns who do not take the job seriously. Even if Kokoro avoid the spotlight/interview as much as she can, she'll accept to paticipate if the situation force her to. Despite not wanting kids herself, Kokoro knows how to take care of children in dire situation. She'll do anything to see a kid smile, instead of being afraid/crying.

Quirk and Abilities

  Quirk: Void   Type: Emitter   Description: Made as the same matter as void, her quirk is a mixe of her parents (her mother could created portal and her father had claws) it materialize as big claws over her arms. She can also trap whatever is inside. (Ex; she can allow to make some fist to go through, trap them there and use it at her advantage or slide/grip a wall without causing damage) Objects or persons can go through at her will. The claws can be extended.

      + Advantages:

Cause few or none damages to structures such a building

Can reach from a certain distance ( max 3.5 meters) 

Useful in hand to hand combat

      - Disadvantages:

Time of use is limited

 Long exposure to the void can cause burn, from 1st to 3rd degrees.

In her academic years, the "pass throught" would often act on its on. She could be gripping a wall and not long after she would be falling. (worked on the issues, now it's under control

  Stats:

Power: 2/5 D

Speed: 4/5 B 

Technique: 4/5 B

Intelligence: 3/5 C

Cooperativeness: 5/5 A

Movement:

Long Range Claws: She can reach a distance of 3,50 meters (9’8” ft.) useful medium range combat and escape. It can combined with others power (mostly Void Portal)

Void Portal: Allow anything that come through one arm/hand to come out from the other.

Armored Void: The void on her arm cover her whole torso, giving the same ability over this part.

 Equipment:

         Small bag: Contain cream that help her when her skin have been burned. Can heal the burns, from 1st to 3rd degrees, in case there no aid around. (1st degree = 3 hours / 2nd degree = 10 hours / 3rd degree = 24 hours -it rarely reach third degree burn thought-)          Elbows and knees pads: To cushion the fall that happened a bit too often.  

Relationships

   Family: She's a only child, who never knew anyone else in her family beside her grandparents and parents. In both side, her family avoided talking or interacting with her parents. Kokoro's parents are still alive, but aren't part of her life anymore. Kokoro's grandmother, a very kind woman who give her best to raise her, died a few after Kokoro became a pro hero (cause; old age)

  Friends: Few pro heroes, Ishi Seido (OC)

  Love interest: Toshinori Yagi/All Might                             Kugo Sakamata/Gang Orca (in an AU where she didn’t went to U.A at the same time as All Might)                     

Trivia

Her name contain the kanji for "Black" (黒) "Sound" (音) and Heart/mind/spirit (in a poetic/figurative way) (心)

Her void do emit a low sound that isn't audible by humans ears.

Her best friend, Ishi Seido, was in support class and was the one to create the cream that can heal her burns.

Thinking her quick wasn’t really made for a offensive good attack, Kurone developed her stamina. Her fighting style is to tire the enemy at the maximum, or until reinforcement arrive. She can hold the fight around 30 minutes before feeling tired herself. Can be longer or shorter depending on her opponent strength.

She's a sweet tooth

She can speak Japanese, English and French

[numberonetaliafan]

For the Talia fans

Blame @fyeah-taliaalghul for this one, and the rest who encouraged it.

The sunset was almost vulgar in its extravagance, lurid reds and purples streaking the sky over the Gulf, while the sun itself burned like molten gold as it disappeared behind the water. Waves lapped softly beneath the dock, an almost musical undertone to the conversation between the couple sitting in deck chairs and watching the sun's descent.

The Waynes might superficially fit the description of an old married couple. But no one would call them ‘elderly’, though they had both left middle age behind years ago. Bruce's black hair had gone white at the temples, his face was graven with stern lines, and the cane at his side was a necessity rather than an affectation. Talia wore her years a little more lightly, but had allowed her hair to go iron-gray, and declined the vanity that some women her age indulged in to smooth their faces to a facsimile of youth. The lines at the corners of her eyes were from smiling, and she cherished them as only one who had not had enough occasions to smile could.

Still, his shoulders were broad and his back straight, and her morning tai chi routine was as graceful as it had ever been. Neither of them had escaped time - she in particular yielded to it with glad relief - but they had not been destroyed by it, either.

On the small table between their chairs stood a bottle of red wine, and a plate which had recently borne a lovely selection of chocolate truffles. At the moment the couple's fingers were entwined, their hands resting lightly on the table beside his half-full glass. Talia held her glass in her other hand, swirling it slightly to admire the vintage, a 1953 Cote des Nuits.

Bruce narrowed his eyes in the slanting sunlight, tensing slightly, and she gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. Nightfall still brought on his protective impulses, even a thousand miles from his city.

“The children are managing perfectly well without us, Beloved,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he replied, his voice gravely as ever. “Terry might not tell me if there were any problems, but Damian would.”

Her son would always report dutifully to his father; there was no need to point that out. “Do we not deserve a vacation, just the two of us?” she asked.

“After playing host to everyone over the holidays? Yes, we certainly do,” he answered, settling again. It had been her delight, truly, to see all the old familiar faces again, happy with the directions their own lives had taken them. All of them had blossomed, wherever they took root, and Christmas at Wayne Manor had been full of life and joy.

Also full of noise, and a certain degree of inconvenience, hence this getaway to the Gulf Coast.

“I don't like being so far from my city,” Bruce admitted at last.

Talia squeezed his fingers again. “It is not solely your city, Beloved. You taught them all well. Be at peace. You have done enough.”

He sighed. “The weather here is certainly kinder.” January was gray and frozen in Gotham, but here even the nights rarely dipped below a springlike cool.

And then, turning toward her with a smile, he added, “The company is much more agreeable, too.”

Talia laughed, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles. “Oh, if you find me agreeable, I am surely losing my edge.”

“Never happen, not to you,” Bruce said, giving her hand a gentle tug to bring her closer. They both had to lean to kiss over the low table, the press of lips full of contented satisfaction, where once every kiss sparked a blaze of passion.

They had passion, too, and the lavish home behind them had been witness to much delight. It was simply that, among its many gifts, time had given them the ability to enjoy one another in more leisurely fashion, when they chose.

Talia was about to make a playful remark about swords kept for purely decorative purposes inevitably growing dull, one he would feel compelled to refute at length, when they both heard a new sound among the splashing waves and creaking wood of the dock.

An outboard motor was not that unusual on the Gulf, but one nosing into their personal cove very much was. No traffic should have come this way, their privacy much cherished. It was a small craft, designed for speed, three men aboard.

Talia did not suggest that the men might merely be lost; the boat was piloted with purpose, coming directly toward them. Bruce pressed a small button recessed into the arm of his chair, activating surveillance devices and priming defenses. One more press would upload the camera feeds to Oracle and alert the children, but that was not yet necessary.

She drank off the last of her wine, watching intently, even as Bruce sat forward and planted his cane between his feet. The boat puttered in the last few feet, two men hopping out onto the dock, hands in their pockets. Bruce adjusted the cushion at the small of his back, setting it beside him for the moment. Talia let her wineglass hang from her fingers negligently, her other hand curled around the armrest of her chair. These men moved like thugs, all arrogant swagger; they would not see the throwing knives attached to magnets there.

“Can we help you?” Bruce said coldly, having seen the same cocky demeanor and drawing the same conclusions about who these men were and what their objective might be.

“Sure, Pops, just sit there for a second,” the first man said, coming out with a gun. Small caliber, short-barreled, and he held it at hip height. Talia sneered at the disregard for anything resembling accuracy. Meanwhile the second man tied up the boat, and the third climbed up to join his fellows.

All three were obnoxiously young, not more than twenty-five, and steeped in youth's braggart confidence. Talia looked past them at the wrapped and taped bags in the stern of their boat, and rolled her eyes. Drug runners. Not even a class of criminal worthy of any respect.

“You are ruining what promised to be a delightful evening,” she informed them, arching a brow in annoyance. “Go now, and we may even give a head start before calling the authorities.”

“Shut up, lady,” the second man said, pointing a similar gun in her general direction.

“Do you know whose house this is?” Bruce asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Doesn't matter. We need a place to lay low for a day, and it's nice and secluded,” the first man said.

The second closed the distance, almost within Talia's reach, and added, “Play it cool, you'll still be alive when we leave.”

Talia and Bruce looked at each other. He shrugged with a small smile. “I suppose it was too much to hope that trouble wouldn't follow us here.”

She answered with a shrug of her own. “Quite frankly, Beloved, I am offended that we could not attract a more interesting manner of trouble.”

The thugs had not expected to be so summarily dismissed, and the first two men both stepped closer, raising their weapons.  Bruce and Talia, who had been waiting for just that move, responded immediately. They no longer had the speed they’d had in their twenties, but neither were they as slow as the retirees these young fools thought them to be. Initiative counted for much, in encounters like these.

Bruce threw the cushion into the first man's face while Talia pitched her wineglass at the second. That distracted them just long enough for Bruce's cane to sweep through the air, knocking the first man's gun out of his hand. The second had come close enough for Talia to accomplish the same with a kick. Both weapons skittered across the dock and into the gulf's roiling waters.

The third man still had not drawn a weapon, but he was reaching into his pocket. Talia came to her feet with the dessert plate in her hand. Drawing it back, she flung it spinning across the little distance between them, its edge striking the third man just above the browbone. The good china shattered, regrettably, but its impact dropped the man to his knees.

Bruce had swept the first thug's legs out from under him with the cane, using the momentum to get himself out of his chair. A well-placed kick in the chin from a heavy-soled shoe knocked that one out as well, leaving only Talia's opponent. He seemed shocked that two people their age could put up a fight, and that made it easy to sidestep both his ineffective punch and his attempt to grapple her.  Bruce had turned toward her, lifting the wine bottle as if to bludgeon him, and Talia said sharply, “I have him,” before stepping in and dropping him with a fist to the solar plexus and a knee to the chin as he doubled over.

Three men downed in fewer minutes by a pair of old warriors wintering on the Florida coast.  She couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement at the scene.

“Thank you for not using the knives,” Bruce said gruffly, putting both hands to the small of his back with a grimace.  

“Thank you for not wasting good wine on these idiots,” Talia replied.  She rolled her shoulder experimentally, and yes, it twinged as expected.  Adrenaline and determination gave them both the ability to finish this fight, but nothing could change the fact that they’d both done themselves too much harm in earlier years.  

“Are you all right?” he asked her, seeing her wince.

“I’ll make an appointment with the acupuncturist tomorrow,” she replied.  “And send them the bill.  For now, I’ll restrain them, if you call the police.”

His cell phone was in his pocket, and he dialed while she removed the men’s belts and cuffed their wrists and ankles together.  Two of the three were already stirring, but Talia knew she could keep them down for the brief time the authorities would take to respond in such a wealthy locale.  The third was the one she’d brained with the plate, and she checked his pupils to make sure she hadn’t done too much damage.  Luckily the swelling bump on his forehead seemed to be the worst of his injuries.

“Who are you people?” the first man said muzzily, peering up at them.

Bruce’s only answer was a harsh laugh.  Talia strolled past him, picking up Bruce’s abandoned glass and taking a sip of rich, well-aged wine.  She caught her husband’s eye and smiled warmly. “Child, you would never believe us if we told you.”