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kiiromaru · 11 months

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THH's Moral Alignement and Reasoning

[spoiler for danganronpa 1]

disclaimer: I haven't read the novels, also these aren't character analysis, just my reasoning for why i put them in this category, also please add onto it if you disagree or have anything to say ^^

Lawful Good

Sakura Ogami: She always takes decisions that she considers to be the best for the people around her : trying to proctect her dojo by accepting to work with Monokuma or committing suicide and making sure to write a letter explaining to everyone why she did it as to resolve the situation and create a more peaceful atmosphere among them.

Kyoko Kirigiri: She has good intentions and i feel like what pushes her to act is kind of a "i can do it therefore i should do it" mindset.

Chihiro Fujisaki: Cute baby sunshine, never did anything wrong in their life.

Ishimaru Kiyotaka: He's the Ultimate Moral Compass, pretty self-explanatory.

Naegi Makoto: A genuinely good person who tries his best to be kind.

Neutral Good

Aoi: We can see during chapter 4 that she put her personal beliefs above all else but even if she tried to kill everyone i still think that she is a good person.

Toko (Ultra Despair Girl): If we were talking solely about THH i would've put her in Neutral Evil since she doesn't care about anyone but herself and is pretty mean (also something that i find very interesting during the 4th trial is that even if throughout the game she seems totally devoted and in love with Byakuya + her obvious lack of self esteem she still chose to defend herself when she thought Genocide Jack had killed Sakura which could've led to his death), but the character development she gets in that game is golden so yeah.

Chaotic Good

Mondo: Feel free to disagree with me on that because of the fact that he killed Chihiro who very much did not deserve it but contrary to what Naegi says in the game it absolutely wasn't a cold blooded murder, himself stating that he blacked-out while killing them. I still chose to put him in good because otherwise he really tried to do the right thing (protecting Chihiro's secret by moving their body or even when in the anime he covered Mukuro's bldy with his coat it showed that he was a kind person) + we also know that he uses his influence to minimize tensions between gangs.

True Neutral

Byakuya: I feel like his god complex makes him kind of uncapable to relate to other people and consider their struggles on the same level as him so he doesn't care about anyone + we saw during the 2nd trial that he definitely can't be described as a good person. I truly feel like he couldn't care less about rules or moral implications as he considers himself above it.

Leon: His actions only seem to be motivated by what he wants in that moment without a lot of reasoning behind it, like changing from baseball to music or killing Sayaka when he could've totally ran away after she tried to kill him.

Chaotic Neutral

Sayaka : I feel like she's morally neutral in the way where she's so goal-oriented that she doesn't care too much about the means to get to an end (which is also implicate in her backstory) but she's aware that what she does might bad : she was willing to let everyone die and pin the crime on Naegi but once her plan failed she still made sure to save everyone instead by writing Leon's name.

Yasuhiro : I hesitated to put him in chaotic evil because of the fact that he quite literally could have/tried to kill Sakura + he never was particularly kind to no one in the game and tried to steal money from us during his free time (tbh im still kinda mad at the wasted potential of making him a nice chill guy but well). In the end i went for neutral because i feel like its more a case of picking the worst possible choice than being a bad person, even if he is quite selfish.

Lawful Evil

Hifumi: The reason i put him in "lawful" is because what convinced him to kill Ishimaru was Celestia accusing him of SA, which is an understandable reason especially paired with the chance to get out happy and with Celestia but he was still willing to sacrifice everyone to get out so lawful evil it is.

Neutral Evil

Celestia Lundenberg: It was pretty complicated but i settled on this alignement if we take the things she tells us at face value (since i've seen a few people saying that she wasn't actually trying to win the game and that's why her plan was so sloppy). I don't feel like she's a bad person but she doesn't care about doing bad things to get what she wants.

Mukuro Ikusaba: That's where me not reading the novels probably makes a difference because i know that she gets more development there but based on the game and the anime i have to put her here, even if she was obviously manipulated by Junko she still seemed to agree with her.

Chaotic Evil

Junko Enoshima: Do i really need to explain ?

Genocide Jack: I mean, she enjoys killing people and has no other reason for what she does.

Thank you if you read all of that, sorry for any typos/grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language and i wrote it all in one go. Please tell me what you think :)

#danganronpa #trigger happy havoc #analysis #makoto naegi #byakuya togami #sakura ogami #aoi asahina #chihiro fujisaki #danganronpa celestia #kyoko kirigiri #danganronpa hifumi #sayaka maizono #mondo owada #kiyotaka ishimaru #junko enoshima #mukuro ikusaba #leon kuwata #danganronpa yasuhiro

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arwamachine · 1 year

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I posted 1,009 times in 2022

116 posts created (11%)

893 posts reblogged (89%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@helloliriels

@arwamachine

@chriscalledmesweetie

@ohlooktheresabee

@discordantwords

I tagged 462 of my posts in 2022

#fanfiction - 114 posts

#johnlock fanfiction - 109 posts

#indefinite lines - 95 posts

#sherlock fanfiction - 82 posts

#chapter updates - 65 posts

#arwa answers asks - 60 posts

#fic recs - 19 posts

#martin freeman - 18 posts

#monsters in the woods - 18 posts

#matchmaking for solitary animals - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#also i haven't even seen this episode but i can tell you it's a flashback because they have him in stripes

My Top Posts in 2022:

THREE FICS TAG GAME

Thanks for tagging me, @chriscalledmesweetie!

Rules: We would like to ask you to recommend us 3 of YOUR fics: 1 that is “most popular” and 2 that are “hidden gems!"

Most popular:

Technically this is Indefinite Lines, but I feel like that's cheating because it's long as hell and still posting. For completed fics, I'll go with:

To Stand Before the Storm John and Sherlock investigate a series of murdered sheep on an uninhabited Irish island. What could go wrong? I attribute this fic's popularity entirely to Lucy the sheep. ❤️

Hidden Gems:

See the full post

153 notes - Posted August 7, 2022

I just want them to kiiiiiiiiiiiss

177 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

Monsters in the Woods

by ArwaMachine

A FTH fic for @discordantwords With gorgeous cover art by @kettykika78

Chapters: (see below)/16 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, (not Major) Character Death Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John isn’t particularly sure why he took the counselor position at Camp Baker Stream, an American-style summer camp for rich kids. He isn’t fond of the wilderness, nor is he fond of kids. He also isn’t sure if he’s fond of his cabin-mate, a strange bloke named Sherlock Holmes who seems perpetually on edge and more than a bit of an arse. It certainly doesn’t help that apparently the camp has a sordid past—a series of gristly murders that took place eight years ago, perpetrated by one James Moriarty. Sherlock seems convinced that the events of the past are doomed to repeat, but that idea seems to fall in the realm of the impossible. That is, until camp counselors start going missing…

Inspired by every 80s slasher flick that is so bad it’s good, this fic merges summer camp horror tropes with the BBC Sherlock universe, adding a sprinkle of smut for good measure!

259 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

Matchmaking for Solitary Animals

by ArwaMachine

Chapters: 13/13 Rating: E Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson; Sherlock Holmes/OMCs (but don't you worry...)

Summary: Upon moving back to Baker Street following Sherlock’s return from the dead, John finds that Sherlock is a bit more keen on entertaining gentlemen callers than he once was, a fact that seems to make John irrationally angry. Intent on proving that he’s not a total dick, John decides to make it his mission to find Sherlock a boyfriend. This, as it turns out, is the worst idea John has ever had.

288 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Things not to think about in regards to the John Balloon:

1. This balloon is filled with helium. Unless Sherlock just happens to keep a canister of helium in the flat (which we maybe shouldn't put past him), John had to go to a shop that sold helium balloons. He asked the shop-keep for one balloon. The shop-keep asked him which color he wanted. He chose red. Then he walked back to Baker Street from the shop, holding his single red balloon all the while.

When he got back to Baker Street, he had to hunt down a marker. Nothing with too sharp a tip--he wouldn't want to accidentally pop the balloon. Just a nice felt-tip marker. Then he drew some approximation of his own face on the marker. He's not exactly an artist, he knows, but he wanted to capture himself in some way, the way he looks when Sherlock is being brilliant. Then he found something heavy enough to tie the balloon to as it sat in his chair.

All because he thought Sherlock doesn't really care if he is there when Sherlock is working.

See the full post

499 notes - Posted January 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#year in review #it would appear I posted some fanfic this year #also I need you to know that the reason I reblog myself so much is due to the fic chapter update posts #because that's how I do those #i'm not just like - I'm a simple girl I see my own content I click #everything else needs no explanation

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lilacmeadows · 3 years

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Made For You pt.1

Okay so this is gonna be a series. My FIRST series. So go easy on me pretty please. I’ve never written smut, and I know nobody wants badly written smut. So we’ll see about that. But this one is definitely gonna be more of a slow burn. Maybe 4 chapters? Yeah. I like that. 4 chapters. I’ve just been thinking about this idea for a while and I wanna get into writing. I hope someone likes this.

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (coming soon)

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT: 2k

PART ONE

She’s so used to quiet in her quaint bedroom. The faint whirring of the air conditioner, sounds of footsteps and machinery being rolled outside her door, the music they would play for her when she was extra good that week.

So when she was awoken to gunshots and yelling, y/n was anxious and didn’t know what to do. She backed into the corner of the room furthest from the door and shut her eyes. Hopefully, if she stayed quiet and unseen, things would resolve itself, and she wouldn’t see any violence come her way.

Luckily for her, after what felt like hours later, the sounds quieted down. The gunshots were less frequent and finally came to a stop. She waited for a few moments before sitting on her bed with intentions of continuing her knitting. She wasn’t allowed many activities, but this was one luxury the Men didn’t mind since she hadn’t had any violent outbursts in a long time. She hated being shocked, and she liked knitting.

But the quiet didn’t last long. Minutes later, she could hear footsteps approaching her room. Too late to go back into her corner without being heard through the ‘doggie door’ the Men used to pass her food twice a day, she sat still and slowed her breathing.

‘Anything on that floor?’ She heard one male voice say from further away.

‘Not yet. Mostly supply closets on this floor, but I’ll check them all.’ Said a voice from much closer. He couldn’t have been more than 10 feet away from her door. She could tell they were American like her because they didn’t have the funny accents the Men all had. Gripping her plastic knitting needles tightly in one hand she braced herself for the intrusion.

Her door cracked open a little, then quickly opened all the way.

“Cap, you need to see this.” The man called over his shoulder. “Are you alright ma’am?”

“Yes. I’m fine, sir.” Her small voice replied, a little rough from lack of use, but still remarkably sweet.

“Who are you? Do you know where you are?” He approached her slowly, taking in her meager appearance, but also watching out for the pointy sticks she has a death grip on.

“My name is y/n. I’m in my room.” She replied. Starting to feel very uneasy by this stranger, but also not thinking that he would hurt him. She had been here for so long, it was strange seeing a tall, black man enter her bedroom. Only trainers and watchers were allowed to enter her bedroom.

“What is it?” Another, taller man asked, but his question was soon answered when his eyes landed on the girl sitting on her bed with her tucked gently under her. He immediately noticed her lack of decent clothing, and it caused a blush to creep up his neck.

“We have a girl here, possibly a hostage, maybe an experiment. She doesn’t look like she particularly wants to be rescued.” The first man said to the other, who’s slowly entering the room while trying not to stare at her thin, flimsy, cotton dress.

“Hi, I’m Steve, this is Sam. Do you know where you’re from?” The blonde man said to her while crouching down to be at her eye level. She nodded her head yes. “Well we’re the good guys. We’re here to save you. Do you want to come with us so we can take you home?”

She had to contemplate for a minute. It had been so long since she got here that she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to leave. These men looked sincere, but she knew if she left and was caught, she’d be punished terribly. But if the gunshots meant anything, there would be nobody to punish her. Which means she can’t stay regardless because there would be nobody to take care of her either.

“Did you kill my watchers?” She looked at the blond man after a few quiet seconds. Steve and Sam made eye contact and had a whole argument in silence before Sam spoke up.

‘Yes, we did. But they were bad men. They were keeping you here. But you’re free now. You just gotta follow us, and we’ll get you out of here.’ Sam said, gently. Not wanting her to think they’re cold blooded murderers, but also trying to rush this meeting along so they can board the quinjet, where the rest of the team was waiting.

Steve held one of his hands out to her, which she hesitantly took- knitting needles and purple ball of yarn in her other hand. She thought about grabbing her sweaters, but they weren’t kept in her room. Quite frankly, she had no idea where they were. The Men didn’t allow her to keep the things she learned to knit in her room. But they would give her back a sweater during the cold months. So she just followed the two men awkwardly. Them taking large, hard steps towards parts of the building she had never seen, and her dainty footsteps lagging behind. The trainers taught her to walk with a ladylike gait, on the balls of her feet with barely any pressure to her heels.

After many hallways and stairwells, they found themselves outside the building. The quinjet was parked close by, and y/n’s eyes almost jumped out of her head. Of course she had never seen anything like that before. The men led her onto the loading area which closed behind them.

“Take a break for sightseeing?” Said one man from the front of the jet. They couldn’t see her because of her small stature behind the two men.

“Actually, we found someone. Her name is y/n. She was in one of the rooms, top floor.” Steve said to the man, while fishing you out from behind his back.

She was met with eyes. Many pairs of eyes. All looking directly at her. Not used to all the attention, she looked down at her feet, which were bare as usual and slightly irritated from walking on various terrains. Her toes painted baby pink. Another luxury the Men allowed her. Some watchers were nicer than others. The shorter, fat one that came every other night would bring her a light, barely noticeable, polish that she was only allowed to put on her toes.

Being there wasn’t so terrible. She was 10 when they took her in 2006. She had a mom and older brother, and they lived in a town in Georgia. She often wonders what happened to them that morning when the Men put a rag over her face, and she woke up on a bed in the room that would become her new bedroom.

She didn’t leave the room often. There was a small bathroom across the hall from her room. The watcher would be standing guard outside her door, and she would let him know she would like to use the bathroom or bathe. He would have to stand in the room with her while she bathed, but after a while, they were kind enough to face the wall. She fought for a long time. Refusing to eat the food (which wasn’t terrible), screaming and crying, she even plotted the occasional failed attack. But then they started the shock therapy, and she learned. Being in that chair was brutal. Rewiring her brain into submission. Submission to the Men so they could train her. She had to be ready for the Soldat when he needed her. Why her? She didn’t ask and they didn’t tell her. She learned very quickly that she was only allowed to speak when spoken to.

Make the Soldat happy. That was her mission. She had been told that phrase so many times that she heard it in her sleep. She had never seen or met him, but she was being trained to be his. A possession he could have control over during the brief times he was unfrozen. She was to listen to him, obey, sleep with him, and just make him happy because the mind controlling words were having less and less of an effect, and the Men were afraid he would lash out and massacre them all.

But it doesn’t seem like she’ll be fulfilling her life goal after all because now she’s in the air with a group of people looking at her like she has two heads. A woman with pretty red hair, a man with a large bow, and a man with nice glasses towards the front of the jet, were on one side. On the other was a blond man with very long hair, standing up to talk to a man in a purple shirt, and a man sitting by himself with long brown hair. All of their stares were pointed at her, but his seemed to go through her. Like he had x-ray vision and could read her mind.

“Y/n, you can have a seat right there.” Sam said, pointing to an empty seat next to the redhead who only squinted at her. “That’s Natasha. She’s nicer than she looks.”

“No, I’m not.” She said, making eye contact with y/n. “But we’re glad to have you aboard.” Natasha finished, the slightest smile forming at the girl.

“Um... Cap, where are her clothes?” The man from before asked Steve.

“I don’t know. This is what she was wearing, and I didn’t see a wardrobe anywhere, Tony.” Steve sighed, obviously exasperated by even the thought of a conversation with Tony.

Tony looked at the girl expectantly. Was he waiting for her to chime in? Because he’d be waiting a long time. She was trained very well. Talking out of turn was one of the first rules she learned.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? Do you want something to cover up? We have blankets. What about water? You thirsty? Does she even understand a word I’m saying?” Tony’s last question was aimed at the men she entered with.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I’m alright, sir.” And if the team was trying to keep their staring inconspicuous at first, they completely abandoned that when she spoke. Her voice was so small and smooth. Just a little weak from not talking much.

“How about we get you a blanket anyway so I can be a little more comfortable” He nodded towards Sam who left the room and returned with a large blanket. She hadn’t realized how cold she was or that her nipples were pointing through her thin dress. Or that the cotton dress was really just a white slip that was damn near see through.

Maybe the grumpy looking man on the other side of the jet does have x-ray vision.

“Thank you, sir.” Everyone had to be called Sir. She hadn’t been around any women, but she was pretty sure if they looked as serious as the one next to her, she’d call them Ma’am.

“Tony is fine.” He smiled at her.

“Hey. I’m Clint, by the way.” The man on Natasha’s other side said, turning his body to address her. “So, umm... What were you doing up there? Are you working for Hydra?” Other members of the team groaned and scolded him for being so blunt, even though they were secretly happy he asked because they also wanted to know.

“I was knitting.” She said simply. She was going to leave it at that, but she could see the way Clint’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline at her short reply. So she continued with the mantra she was raised with. “My purpose is to make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.”

She had never seen a room of people’s heads turn so fast. Eyes darting from her to the brooding man on the other side of the jet. He squinted his eyes, looking equally as confused.

She hadn’t realized that her mission was right in front of her.

part 2

#bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #the avengers #steve rodgers smut #thor smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter solider x reader #winter soldier smut

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imnotwolverine · 3 years

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Wolfie’s Fic Recs | Dad!Fics

DAD!FICS - Henry and his characters with kids, wanting kids, making kids. That’s it. That’s this list.

Author’s note: My sincere apologies for how crazy long this list has gotten 😂 It’s like the whole fandom is agreeing on one thing: this man needs a baby ASAP. Also, thank you dear @littlefreya for your ever wonderful suggestions!

With Henry

Single dad Henry is trying to figure out a hair tutorial to please his 4-year old, and it’s the most adorable thing ever. With Flowers In Her Hair by @wanna-do-bad-things

Single dad Henry kinda hittin’ on da nanny? Picture Perfect by @fun-with-jane is a short fic series that’ll get you kinda hot, and kinda bothered (the slow burn..ARGH)

Getting you pregnant is, apparently, a very VERY exact science including honey-wine-&-cookies.. baby. Freyja Dag by @geek-eat-repeat

And don’t forget about timing! THE TIMING! Let’s Make One Of Our Own is the sweaty hot smut you might just crave (am I the only one ovulating right now?), fic by @littlefreya.

Sometimes it’s also just a situation of super sperm, followed by an “oopsie baby”. And when two bullheaded fuckbuddies-to-be-parents are involved, things can get pretty ..engaging: The Rules Of Engagement by @ladyreapermc (multi-chapter).

Or perhaps it’s a situation of Henry and his untameable Hunger, by @littlefreya (yes, it’s breeeeding smut my lassies -- again, forgive me for I am thirsty)

Pregnancy ain’t always sunshine and rainbows. There’s also a lot of change and self-doubt. But that’s nothing some coconut oil and love can’t fix, in Two Months by @littlefreya

There’s a lotttt of first times with having children, which in turn will probably give quite a few heart Flutters for poor protective dad Henry. By @littlefreya

And he’s not just protective, he’s also pretty observant. This Cute Little Drabble makes you wonder when you last bought tampons... by @toomanystoriessolittletime

Newborns? They can be a little fussy. But again, daddy bear is here to fix it! Everything I Ever Wanted by @fuckoffbard

With the brood expanding, it’s getting a little difficult to garner the ever-craved attention of momma bear in This Is War by @cruelfvkingsummer

And when mom isn’t home? Well..the question arises what happened to all the cookies.. Daddy’s day by @angrythingstarlight

Okay, one more by @angrythingstarlight because I couldn’t choose: Baby Talk

And Henry’ll learn soon enough that changing your facial hair should go with a disclaimer. Especially when toddlers are involved. Daddy Who? by @viking-raider

And facial hair also reminds me of this fic; Domestic Life by @writernerd23 (-> “Your face is scratchy, Daddy.” <- CUTE)

The Accidental Family by me. A domestic sad-fluffy short series about memory loss -- After a motorcycle accident, Henry suddenly finds himself living the life he always dreamed of. There’s only one small hitch; he can’t remember how he got here.

And to carry on with the more sad fluff-stuff. How would Henry deal with the less rosy parts of trying to have children - like miscarriage? Negative is a beautiful fic that got me balling my eyes out and you should definitely read it if you’re in the need for some sad, sad fluff. By @oddduckthatgirl

Perhaps things didn’t quite go as planned - whatever the plan was. This sad-to-fluff fic brings you on the rollercoaster of extremely sad to fuzzy warm and happy. Better Off by @toomanystoriessolittletime

More tear-jerkers? 😭Falling Again by @deathonyourtongue follows struggling AU dad!Henry as bills keep piling and the loss of his wife haunts his every waking moment.

Back to the fun stuff - *chants* Rugby dad! Rugby dad! I couldn’t pick just one from the extensive list of rugby dad Henry fics by @hlkwrites and @achaoticaugust - let’s be honest; this should be a genre on its own, so here’s a few:

Henry Cavill, The Rugby Dad Part 2 (smut, daddy kink) I laughed perhaps a tad too loud at the drunk make-out session on the front lawn - here’s some short sexy rugby dad Henry drabbles.

A Rugby Dad’s Guide To Injury Time (smut) I just love smut when it slow, sensual and JUST a tiny bit awkward because you’re on the couch and someone’s leg is in a cast 😜

A Rugby Dad’s Guide To The Off Season (smut) And after the hard toil of keeping a family up and running, it might just be time for a hot (tub) little break

With Sy

A few short, golden moments in becoming first-time parents with Sy - including skin-to-skin daddy cuddles - what else do you want? Evermore by @hauntedelation is a fluffy fic that gets me all kinds of fuzzy inside.

Talking “short” golden moments..this one includes one short reader, a coffee mug and one teasing oaf-of-a-bear Syverson. (smut) Of Short Girls And High Shelves by my fellow Lisa, also known as @killjoy-assbutt-1112 (hi girl!)

Cankles, have never been so hot a subject to talk about as they are in this lovely fic by @crimsonrae: Cigarettes and Morning Breath

And before you know it, you have a whole brood. Will that stop Sy? Meh..probably not. Fourth Time’s The Charm by @cruelfvkingsummer

And once he HAS a daughter? Woof! Dad Syverson is probably just a LITTLE bit too overprotective. But that’s nothing a daughter-dad weekend can’t fix. Daddy Syverson by @connieisland

Imagine this: one big chunky Captain Syverson and one tiny, tiny babygirl cradled in his arms. Are you melting yet? Siobhán is just the cutest little fic, by @littlefreya

We really want Sy to get a daughter huh? And that’ll be particularly funny when daughter sweet becomes old enough for Prom Night -- we’ll be back with overprotective daddy Sy who is ever stubborn, but also ever sweet. By @littlefreya

Onto the holidays: Santa brings back home a 5-year old’s one true wish in Santa Letter Wish by @lovelycavills

And sometimes? You wish the babe would wait JUST a few days before getting born. Christmas, Baby by @its--fandom--darling

Now. To finish off the Sy vibes; are you perhaps in the need of one heck of a good series? Willow Run is one of the first series I read here on Tumblr and it is SO GOOD. I won’t blab and just let you read ❤️ you won’t regret it. By @deathonyourtongue

With Geralt

Geralt, Destiny, one stubborn girl and the Law of Surprise - it’s a recipe for great adventures and funny grumpy dad!Geralt moments. This wonderful multichap fic A Soldier’s Daughter is written by @viking-raider

I know it’s canonically impossible for a Witcher to get anyone pregnant (due to the Trial of the Grasses). But you know..if ..and when..and maybe..then: A Gentle Soul by @killjoy-assbutt-1112

With Marshall

Some mild roleplaying, rough smutiness and unexpected news make this love-making sesh a wild-wild ride. Heart Of Darkness by @littlefreya

Sleepless is a wonderful multichap fic with Marshall x single!mom reader. @feralrunaway gives you awkward barbecue chat and protective Marshall being ever protective. There’s no masterlist, so here’s (I think) all the chapters: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

Can you imagine big hunky chunk Marshall being worried when you get all teared up with emotion? Baby Blues gives you allll the cute caring dad!Marshall you need. By @the-soot-sprite

With August

A child born out of love and chaos, is all August craves when he comes back home. Mother Of Murder by @littlefreya (smut)

Bad guys, accidental babies and *BOOM* suddenly it’s not just you who calls August “daddy” ((pun intended here, please don’t hate me 😂)) Surprise, surprise.. by @maya-the-cute-ass-bee

And once such that surprise happens, August knows one thing for sure: he’d burn the whole world to a crisp if anything was to happen to you and his unborn child. In this Imagine by @littlefreya

With Napoleon

Sobs, cries and accidentally getting pregnant by spies ((the puns are getting worse, I swear I’ll show myself out in a bit)). On a serious note though: this multi-chapter is an angsty rollercoaster with a tinge of fluff by @coloraturadiva - A Mistake

With Sherlock

Dad!Sherlock fics are surprisingly hard to find, but here’s one: Promises by @zodiyack is a bit of a modern interpretation of a Victorian household, and it sure as hell is delightful!

WEW! That was a LONG list - wonderful work dear fic writers! And, as ever; if you have any good recommendations that fit in this list, please add in the comments or reblog! ❤️

( Fan art by me 😊)

#henry cavill fanfiction #fic recommendations #rpf #dad!henry #dad!syverson #dad!sy #dad!geralt #dad!marshall #dad!august #dad!napoleon #dad!sherlock #wolfie's fic recs

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five-rivers · 3 years

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Danger First

Chapter 6

@pocketramblr another :)

Shouta trudged back to the staff break room. His counseling session with Midoriya had lasted a little over an hour, so while there were still teachers in the building, many of them had left. With the exception of semi-retired heroes like Recovery Girl, everyone working here had two full time jobs. Hizashi, despite his carefree air, had even more than that in the form of his radio show. Hizashi had probably left with the students.

But Hizashi wasn't either of the ones he wanted to talk to. Not today.

He opened the door. Three, no, four teachers were there, but Snipe didn't count, seeing as he was completely passed out on one of the couches with his gas mask half off. He must have had an early shift patrol today, poor sucker.

Nemuri was there, too, with most of her hero outfit on. She was applying her hero-grade makeup (water proof, resistant to three common contact poisons, and guaranteed not to react badly with mace).

More importantly, Kan and Yagi were both there, poring over papers on the same desk, no less. Shouta walked up to the table and looked down at sheets and sheets full of incomprehensible numbers.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We-"

'Don't tell him!" said Kan, urgently. "This is going to be my class's leg up on Aizawa this time around."

"Haha! Good one!" Yagi slapped Kan's back, and apparently even in his skeletal form he could pack a punch, because Kan had the air knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Yagi continued, "I'm making personalized nutrition plans for his class!"

"What?"

"One of my undergraduate degrees was in nutritional and health sciences, after all!"

Wow, there was a lot to unpack there, but Shouta was more than happy to leave it in its box. He had other fish to fry and topics to interrogate. Small talk requirement fulfilled, he moved on.

"How well do you know Midoriya?"

Yagi blinked and put down his pencil. "Moderately so? We met about this time last year and have been meeting regularly since then."

So, so much to unpack.

"Why?"

"Ah, he... impressed me, I suppose? He was involved in the bodysnatcher incident last year."

That was an understatement.

"He had a lot of heroic spirit!" continued Yagi. "But... not so much in the, ah, body category. I thought it would be a shame, a waste, really, if he wasn't able to pursue his dream, and a hero school prep course wasn't really in the cards for him, considering his quirk status and the timing... And I did have this degree..." He waved his hands vaguely at the table. "I just gave him a little help."

"What brought all this on, anyway?" asked Nemuri. "Midoriya is the little green haired kid, right? One of Chibiida's new friends?"

"If you keep calling him that, I won't be held responsible for when he snaps and attempts murder. But, yes, that's Midoriya."

"So...?"

"He told me I was the best teacher he'd ever had."

Nemuri started laughing.

"Oh," said Yagi. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along so well."

"I think he's pulling your leg, Shouta," said Nemuri, coming over to pat him on his shoulder. "Man, I didn't think a friend of Chibiida's would have it in him. Such youth!"

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much he wasn't."

Nemuri's laughter died off.

"Judging from some comments he made today," said Shouta, "not to mention the discrepancies between his record and his observed behavior in the classroom, I'd say he's been the target of severe quirkism in the past, particularly from his teachers. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?"

Yagi's face darkened and the mood in the room grew much more somber. "Not in so many words, no. However... some of his comments about his teachers disturbed me enough to bring it to the attention of the Musutafu Educational Services District, but as an unrelated stranger without concrete proof..."

("You can use the acronym, you know," muttered Vlad.)

"You're telling me they ignored the number one hero."

Yagi made a face. "I didn't go to them as All Might. Can you imagine the media frenzy if I did that? I didn't want to paint that kind of target on young Midoriya's back."

That was fair, actually. If largely-anonymous Shouta had enemies, All Might had ten times as many. Not to mention supposed fans.

"Other avenues of inquiry were also fruitless," said All Might, countenance darkening. "I asked some of my police colleagues, but they don't have full discretion over the direction of their investigations, and, again, if I were to use my weight to move them... It would get out, and people would wonder why I was so concerned with an apparently normal middle school."

"Did you try talking to Nezu about it?"

"No? Why?"

Shouta reminded himself that although Yagi was an alumnus, he was also very new as a teacher, and was as of yet unfamiliar with Nezu's more interesting traits.

"I'm going to," said Shouta, "and you're going to come with me." He turned to Kan. "Have you heard anything from Bakugo about quirk discrimination?"

"All I've heard from him are explosions, threats, and some kind of complex I don't have nearly enough psychiatric training to- They're from the same school," he realized.

"Yeah."

Kan pinched his brow. "So, the sweet shy kid you keep gushing about-" Both Shouta and Yagi attempted to reassure Kan they weren't gushing, "-and the demon brat are from the same school."

"That is what their records say," agreed Shouta. "Did you know, Yagi?"

"Oh, that they knew each other? Yes. Actually, I was rather under the impression they were childhood friends, as Midoriya ran out to help him during the bodysnatcher incident."

Shouta grunted. It was possible. He hadn't seen the two of them interact, at any rate.

"I'm going to Nezu with you," said Kan, standing up. "No matter what else this hell school did, they deserve to suffer for inflicting Bakugo Katsuki on me with those recommendations full of lies."

"Why don't you just expell him if he's that bad?"

"Because he's talented, hardworking, and hasn't actually broken any rules except for the swearing. He's just a pain I wasn't prepared to deal with and will probably contribute more to my hearing loss than Yamada by the end of the year."

"Wait, wait," said Yagi. "What exactly are you expecting Nezu to do in this situation?"

"Well," said Nemuri, who still hadn't left yet, "let's just say there's a reason hid name is 'god' in the staff group chat."

Terrible did not even begin to describe how Izuku felt when he woke up. His skin was static. His mouth was dry in a way that hurt. It felt like a siren was going off in his brain, and also like it was too quiet. He wanted to both run all the way to the school and hide in his closet.

This, of course, left him paralyzed in bed.

He hadn't felt remotely like this since the first time someone had left spider lilies on his desk at school. What was wrong with him?

No, that was the wrong question. All signs pointed to him having Danger Sense. He was in danger. And also immobile in bed.

With a great deal of effort, he turned to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. The clock in the corner read 4:42. Far too early to call anyone. And yet...

With shaky fingers, he navigated to Mr. Yagi's contact information and pressed dial. To Izuku's surprise, it only rang once.

"Young Midoriya? Is something wrong?"

The sound of his voice loosened the terrible knot under Izuku's breastbone. "I- May-maybe? I don't- I don't know, I think so."

There were sounds of movement on the other side of the line. "What happened?"

"I just- just woke up, and I- I think it's Danger Sense. It- Something bad is going to happen."

"I'm on my way. Is your mother with you?"

"N-no. She's at a- at a tech conference in Tokyo. She won't be back until- until tomorrow. Mr. Yagi, I don't- I don't think it's something here. I think it's later... at the school."

There was a pause. "My boy, are you quite sure?"

Izuku's laugh was just a little hysterical. "I mean, I'm- I'm pretty new to this, but..." he'd like to think his flight or fight reflex would have a more constructive response to am immediate threat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you up, I should have waited-"

"Nonsense! Forewarned is forearmed, and time is one of the most valuable resources a hero can have! I'm still picking you up, I'll just-" Mr. Yagi coughed, "-take the car instead."

"The car? You mean Hercules!?" The excitement was enough to free Izuku from his paralysis and propel him into a sitting position.

"Well, yes, but, my boy, how did you know? I don't think I've ever mentioned the name in my interviews..."

"But you did! In one of your American interviews. It was for a local station and you and Mr. Shield were on together."

"But those were in English."

"I know! When I found out about them, it really motivated me to work on my English! I think I could probably pass the Level Two fluency test..."

"Young Midoriya, have I ever told you how glad I am that you aren't a villain?"

"Hikage, did Danger Sense ever make you feel this bad?" asked Nana as Yoichi fussed in the background.

"Super Anxiety made me feel this bad all the time. Sometimes, it made me feel worse. I got used to it."

Nana let out a sigh of relief. It sucked to Ninth right now, but if it was normal for the quirk...

"That's good, then," said En. "Not for Ninth, obviously, but if that's just how the quirk works, he'll be able to figure it out. What did it usually mean, when you felt like this?"

"Generally, that someone was planning on killing me in the next few hours."

Dead(er than usual) silence.

"Ah," said En.

"You know," said Nana, "sometimes the kinds of lives we led slips my mind, but then the universe is always real happy to turn around and slap it back into me."

Yoichi started screeching.

"Do you feel any worse now that we're here?" asked Mr. Yagi after shutting Hercules down.

"Not really," said Izuku. He slumped down in his seat and looked away. "I'm sorry, I dragged you out of bed and this is probably just a stupid pointless meaningless panic attack..." He felt tears begin to prick at the edges of his eyes. He was so stupid. And selfish. All Might could be out helping people right now. Or taking care of himself (which, according to Recovery Girl's comments during their training sessions, he didn't do nearly enough of).

"Hey, hey, there's no need to cry, it's alright."

"Because you're here?" asked Izuku with a sniffle.

"Well, yes, but also, even if it was 'just' a panic attack, I'd still want to be here for you." He reached across the central console to pat Izuku on the shoulder. Then his face twisted into something rather sheepish. "But on the subject of panic attacks, something did occur to me on the way here."

Izuku looked back down at his knees. "What is it?"

"This is the anniversary of the day we met."

Izuku... had known that, actually. Waking up as he had had driven it from his mind, but the date was marked on his calendar. He'd even gotten All Might a gift, although he hadn't yet talked himself into being brave enough to give it to him, and with what happened today, it would most likely languish in his desk drawer for an indefinite period of time as the idea of giving it became progressively more awkward.

"My boy? I can't quite make out what you're saying. You're mumbling."

Izuku clapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. I'm just an old man with hearing problems."

"You're not old! It's... I just- I just don't see how- how that's connected to this." He gestured at himself in all his vaguely-trembling glory.

"Young Midoriya... you almost died three separate times that day. That's traumatic. And sometimes anniversaries are... reminders."

"I only almost died once?"

"The first time with the sludge villain, grabbing on to my leg- and I don't think I ever apologized for telling you to let go, I was just so surprised- and then the sludge villain again."

"But I only almost died the first time..." He trailed off as Mr. Yagi gave him a look. He'd thought his mother was the only one who could give looks like that... "Do you really think this is connected to that?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Yagi. "Do you feel like it might be?"

"I don't know," said Izuku. He bent over and knotted his fingers in his hair.

"Do you think it might help to stay home today?"

"No!" yelped Izuku. "No," he repeated, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Alright, alright. Never fear, my boy." Mr. Yagi gave him another steadying shoulder pat. "In that case, let's go into this with the assumption that this is danger sense, and it is attempting to warn you of a real threat."

"Okay," said Izuku. He rubbed at his eyes. "What do we do first?"

Mr. Yagi tensed and looked up at the top floors of UA. "Well..."

"Hm!" said Nezu. "That is something of a conundrum! The extent of your quirk is unclear, and it is not properly registered, so we cannot go through the official routes we normally would for a warning given through a precognitive or clairvoyant quirk, even given that we are aware of One for All and the probable nature of Danger Sense."

Nezu knowing about One for All had been a bit of a surprise. In retrospect, maybe it shouldn't have been. All Might would have had to tell Nezu something so that Izuku was allowed on campus before he was really a student, and seeing as how All Might was originally teaching here to find a successor... well, it made sense. Izuku just wished he'd been told.

How many other people knew was a question for later, however.

"Your inexperience with the quirk and other circumstances further complicates the matter."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"Whatever for? It isn't your fault." Nezu did not wait for an answer. "Then there is yesterday's incident to consider... You say you felt something with the reporters?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Hm. Yes. Toshinori, I so believe you have a contact who could clear this up much more efficiently."

"I know," said Mr. Yagi. "He isn't picking up his phone."

"You don't think-?" started Izuku.

"No, no, he just hasn't been speaking to me lately."

"Oh? I was under the impression you had been communicating with him regularly since returning to Musutafu."

"He thought I would change my mind about something I didn't change my mind about, apparently. It doesn't matter. What else can we do?"

"A good number of things, luckily. Midoriya, I am going to make a series of phone calls. I would like you to tell me if the sensation you are experiencing changes at all while I make them."

"Yes, sir."

Nezu began methodically going through Izuku's list of teachers, warning them that something 'like yesterday' might happened and going over lesson plans and safety procedures. Nothing really changed. Until Nezu called Thirteen.

(Oh, gosh, they were going to go to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint on a field trip today? That was so cool!)

But after Nezu talked to Thirteen about checking safety systems, a little bit of the tension he'd been holding onto leaked away.

"Interesting," said Nezu. "Perhaps we should reschedule rescue training until-"

Izuku dove for Nezu's garbage bin.

"-or perhaps not," mused Nezu as Izuku expelled the meager contents of his stomach.

It was a good thing he hadn't eaten breakfast.

"Hikage," said Banjo. "I'm sorry for calling you a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard with a warped sense of humor if this is what you had to put up with all the time."

"You called me a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard?"

"Not to your face, but yes."

"Well. It isn't as if those things aren't all true..."

"I'm okay," said Izuku. "That just... felt bad."

"No cancelations in that case," said Nezu as Mr. Yagi hovered.

"Y-yeah. Oh gosh, now I know how Uraraka feels..."

"Perhaps you should stay home-"

"No! I can't! That would be..."

Nezu held up his hands- paws? "It was merely a suggestion. Can I offer you some tea?"

"Yes, please," said Izuku, voice catching uncomfortably on his raw throat.

"I do have a few more calls to make. Do you feel up to staying, or would you prefer to head down to Recovery Girl? Or perhaps even the cafeteria? I imagine you haven't eaten breakfast."

"I'd like to stay."

"Very well." Nezu picked up his phone again. Izuku could just make out the click on the other end when it was picked up. "Am I a mouse? A dog? A bear? One thing's for sure! I'm the principal!" There was laughter on the other end of the line. "No, not at all! I am in fact calling for you, Tensei. Or should I say, Ingenium? I'm aware this is last minute, and you were planning on taking the day off- How do I know? It was quite simple, really- but between the break-in yesterday and a tip I received this morning regarding a threat to the school, I would like a few more hands on deck than usual. Why, yes, you can stay with your brother's class. Do try not to tease Shouta too much. He has a reputation to maintain." After a few more pleasantries, Nezu hung up. "Midoriya?"

"I... think that's better? I'm sorry, it's hard to tell what could be the quirk and what's just me feeling bad."

Nezu nodded. "In that case, I do recommend that you head to Recovery Girl's office. My other calls will be similar, and the other heroes will not be with your class."

"Why not?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Because Midoriya's reaction to the field trip being canceled suggests that the danger may not be limited to himself or his class. Oh! And one more thing. Midoriya, I noticed that you put in some costume alteration requests. Naturally, most of them will not be finished until some time next week, however, some of the support items you mentioned are fairly common. If you have time before the field trip, you should pay a visit to Power Loader."

Izuku hadn't expected it, but he did feel much better after eating, despite his continuing sense of impending doom. It was also about half an hour from the beginning of homeroom, so he had the time to go to the support department and check if they had anything he could take.

He hoped they had grappling hooks. Izuku had always wanted a grappling hook.

Mr. Yagi took him most of the way there, but students had started to arrive at this point, and Izuku convinced him to go prepare for classes (and hide in the staff area so that no one would wonder why he, a skeleton man not recognizable as a hero, was at the school). Before too long, Izuku stood in front of a rather sturdy-looking metal door. He hoped this was the right one.

He raised his hand to knock just as something crashed into him. Ah. This was it for sure. The way he would die. The danger he had foreseen.

No. Wait. Never mind. He was fine, just on the ground.

"Oh! There was a person there! You okay?"

"U-um," said Izuku, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I'm fine, just a little startled."

"What're you doing here, anyway?"

"I- I'm here for... support... gear?" He sort of trailed off as he looked up.

It was the intense pink haired girl from the other day. As he watched, her expression changed from one of mild concern to calculating interest.

"Support gear, you say?"

Shouta answered his phone as he walked down the hall. "Nezu, I've already done every security check I can think of that'll fit-"

"Not quite why I was calling, although I can see why you would think so. One of your students needs to be rescued from the support department."

Shouta changed direction without missing a beat. "It's Midoriya, isn't it?"

"Why, yes."

"Did you send him down there without warning him?"

"Yes, again. You know me so well!"

Shouta hung up.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first au #danger first #fic #fanfic

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ckbookish · 3 years

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BATMAN BINGO MASTER POST 2020

1 "I thought you were dead.": I Still See Your Ghost

Today was just not Dick's day. First he overslept his alarm and was late to work. Amy had been less than impressed at his tardiness... Then He had bungled what should have been an easy take town... But the straw that broke the camel's back was Tim. Dick had forgotten to call Tim.

2 Friendly fire: Fratricide

Jason was pissed. No, Jason was enraged. Yeah, he was enraged at the whole mess his family-- if that’s even what they were to each other anymore-- had gotten him in. It was meant to be a simple night. Break in. Torch the drugs. Maybe shoot a couple of people and go home. But no, Batman heard about his plans and decided that arson was too extreme. “Someone could get hurt.” Well someone had gotten hurt, a lot of someones.

3 Hypothermia: Weekend Commute

Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

Chapter two Bruce's perspective.

4 Superman: Bringer of the Dawn

The Aftermath of when the Joker shoots Dick.

Where do you go when your family tells you to get out?

5 Shot: The Gratitude Trap

Bruce finds himself in the dark, a place he never thought he would be when it came to Clark Kent and Dick Grayson. Yet here he is digging for answers, because he is too scared to pick up the phone and call.

6 Two-face: The Better Choice

How do you reconcile the man who was once your friend with the monster he has become? Bruce reflects on how the man he once called his best friend changed. How could the man who helped him foster Dick, hold that baseball bat?

7 Drowning: Omori’s Law

Deep in the sewer's under Gotham, Batman is trapped. There is no back up, no Robin. He is faced with the single truth that he tried to teach each of his partners... You have to save yourself.

8 Found Family: A Restoration from a Resilient Heart

Dick just wants to not be alone with the shadows in the house. Bruce doesn't realize he has lived with them for far to long, and maybe he doesn't have to anymore.

9 Adoption: The Irrefutable Truth

When he reached the reception, he found himself looking around a fairly empty room. There were a few call girls in the corner filling out forms, an older woman holding a dog, a kid that looked about twelve and a middle aged man who looked like he was ready to cry. He knew no one. Dick was about to turn around and head back to his desk when the on duty officer called out to him. Officer O’Conner was one of his fellow rookies, he had a thick accent. Dick thought he might be from Louisiana. “Grayson! Why didn’t you say your brother was coming to see you?” Dick looked at him with his mouth slightly open. There was no way he heard that right. “My what?”

10 Bruises: Mr. Wayne

Tim is new to this. He's only been Robin for a little over six months. It was going well. But now he was going to be fired. Batman wouldn't want a partner who got caught at school with a black eye. Would he?

11 Bruce is dead: You Have One Saved Message

Gotham gossip columns spread lies and smear good people's names. But yet Damian can't help but think maybe this mornings article was true. That despite all his claims of being the true son of Bruce Wayne, he was in fact the only unwanted one.

12 CPR: Vital Signs

Robin wakes to find him and Batman in an exploded factory. With Batman injured and the building burning around them, Dick struggles to get them both to safety.

13 Dad: Storge

Bruce could have sworn his spirit had left him momentarily. The sudden hollowness that filled him couldn’t be explained in any other way.

“Your dad must have his hands full with you.” Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray.

Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view. It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world. The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield... Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad. But he wasn’t.

14 Stealing the Batmobile: T-Minus Six Hours

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.

15 Wayne Enterprises: Amidst the Absence of Meaning

Bruce is worried. He's running on less than three hours of sleep, and way too many cups of coffee. He had messed up. That much was obvious. The question was would Dick forgive him?

A gruesome night on patrol bleeds into Bruce's work day and now all he can wonder is if this is the thing that will push Dick over the edge? Had he finally seen to much pain?

16 Ransom: Sum of My Worth

The ring of the phone seemed to echo through the manor’s still too quiet long, winding halls, and everyone present collectively held their breath. Bruce lunged for the phone.

17 Secret Injury: Hiding in Pain Sight

“What?” Dick asked sharper than he meant to. He was tired.

“Nothing.” Tim said with a small smirk. “Heavy is the head.”

Dick closed his eyes, glad that Tim couldn’t see them. He was so sick of this. Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass all didn’t think he was good enough, well Cass hadn’t said that, but Dick could read her. They didn’t think he was up to the job. Well they didn’t need to tell him that. He knew it.

18 Superboy: An Interlude in Breathing

Tim looked out over the water in a daze. Bruce and Dick had gone somewhere below deck and he was alone. Well there were strangers on the ship mingling and talking excitedly--but Tim gave them no notice. Instead he watched the water lap up against the hull and crash down back to meet the dark, cold waters. They were far enough out that he could no longer see the shore. It was just endless expenses of sea and sky. Something tickled his neck and he started, only to realize he had been crying. It was only a tear slipping under his collar.

The days after the battle of Infinite Crisis

19 Betrayed: Smother

She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll in her lungs for a long moment before allowing it hiss out between her teeth. The screams from the warehouse weren’t completely muffled by the distance, or the walls. Perhaps she was only imagining them. But then, sounds like that, she didn’t think she could dream up. She jumped after a particularly high pitched yelp. “Get a grip.” She dropped the cigarette and pulled out another. Her hand shook as she lit it. “It’s just some random kid. He’s not--” She bit back a sob. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had no right to tears, not when it was her fault.

20 Crowbar: Breaklights

The mail fell to the ground and the paper smacked the tiles hard. The sound in reality couldn’t have been all that loud, but it seemed to echo around the entryway. Bruce didn’t look at the dropped bills and the invitation to a fundraiser for the new Gotham women’s shelter. He was too fixated on the small stamp with the queen of England's head on it. Wolverhampton.

The large envelope was far heavier then it should have been. Bruce could feel bile crawling up his throat.

He had forgotten.

21 Deathstroke: Debts and Dues

There were some things that were never pleasant, getting caught in the snow without socks, losing your keys, and not being able to remember the name of a song. Having a gun pointed at your chest, Dick felt, qualified as extremely unpleasant. He stood stock still. The barrel of the gun was still hot, it burned slightly as it dug into his sternum. Even with his uniform he could still feel the heat left over from previous rounds fired. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t flinch. “Move.” “You know I can’t.” Dick wondered if Slade had the guts to do it.

22 Mission Gone Wrong: Murmur in the Quiet Hours

Superman? Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no. Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.

23 Kidnapped: Chum

Dick trumped through the leaves, stopping his feet roughly. He relished the sound of the crunch beneath his shoes as he tread on the brown, dead leaves before him. He felt rather justified in his satisfaction. After all the world had taken so much from him, why wouldn’t he do his best to crush it in return. The woods were cool and as he went deeper into them they grew darker. The sun had long set, and the sky was quickly vanishing as the trees grew thicker. Wayne Manor was far behind him. He was never going back. He hated those pristine walls, those old floor boards. He hated the quiet. He hated the stuffy furniture and the rules and the vases and pictures. He hated his new guardian and that… that… Dick couldn’t remember what Alfred was called, but he hated it. The bag on his back felt heavy. It had everything Dick owned in it. Well and a toothbrush that Alfred had given him. But he didn’t think that was really stealing.

24 Riddler: Seeking Silence on Shortwaves

Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk. In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world. Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things. Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing. Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.

Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms. When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked. But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?

25 Mr. Freeze: Glimpsing the Sun While Trapped in the Rime

He almost called Bruce between his fourth and fifth class. He pulled his phone out, leaning against his locker, and half dialed his number when a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “Hey.” Dick spun around and blinked back black spots as his body protested the sudden movement. A blaze of red hair filled his vision and Dick felt a small fire build in his chest. His face split into a wide smile.

After a run in with Mr. Freeze Dick finds himself feeling odd at school, but he can't go home, not when Barbara's asked him to drive her to Betty's party after school.

#batman bingo 2020 #Master Post #Batman #CK Writes #Nightwing #Dick Grayson #tim drake #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Red Hood #Red Robin #robin #My Writing

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makeste · 4 years

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in which Deku is a horcrux.

okay, so! here’s another post on this, because I feel like nobody is talking about it?? and like hey, I get it, because there was A Lot!! going on in this chapter! but you guys. like yeah, Tomura’s hair is pretty; and yeah, AFO kept Nana’s severed hand around for shits and giggles maybe; and yeah, Ujiko attempted to murder and abduct the child!Aizawa and then whined to Present Mic about having to settle for Shirakumo instead (which!!!!! YEAH, THAT’S. ....); and all of that is Some Shit!!

but also, guys. can we talk about how Deku has a fucking psychic link to AFO, though.

like hey, remember this?

the timing of which coincided with this?

yeah. and now we have this!!

coinciding with this!

so yeah. let’s break this all down really quick.

okay so here’s the theory in a nutshell.

1. AFO steals a power-stockpiling quirk from some hapless nobody, probably around 200 years ago. he doesn’t know it’s a power-stockpiling quirk, though. he thinks it’s a strength quirk. hence why he’s surprised to discover that it doesn’t seem to be working after he takes it! since quirks are still relatively new at this time, there’s a lot that people still don’t understand about them, and so he doesn’t realize he’s actually dealing with what Monoma would call a “blank.”

so what AFO thought was a strength quirk turned out to be useless for him, because he only copied the bare-bones essence of the quirk and not the accumulated power. disappointing, but not the end of the world. except that he’s about to go and make it a whole lot worse for himself.

2. so he decides to give this “useless” quirk to his quirkless younger brother as a means of getting him to submit! except that this backfires. because of this curious fact about OFA/AFO:

basically, the accumulated power of OFA can’t be taken by force (as Monoma discovered). but it can be transferred if the holder gives it to someone willingly. which, oh hey guess what, AFO actually did.

oop.

3. so basically, AFO had this power-stockpiling quirk sitting inside of him, stockpiling his power, until he willingly gave it up to his younger brother, and by doing so transferred a part of his own power into his brother as well. and these two powers which he transferred -- All for One, and the power-stocker -- combined to form what we think of as “One for All.” a quirk which stockpiles power and can be transferred from person to person (just as AFO can transfer quirks to other people at will).

4. and last but not least, we now know that’s not all that gets transferred from person to person.

so yeah. (: catch my meaning now?

so basically OFA is and has always been a duplicate of AFO. but unlike the quirk Tomura now bears, this version of AFO was transferred unintentionally. the results, however, are more or less the same! Deku now bears a piece of AFO’s soul inside of him much like Tomura now appears to. this is the only explanation that I can see for why he’s able to sense the awakening of Tomura 2.0 AFO’S Revenge as it’s happening, even though he’s miles away. the part of AFO that resides in him is still linked to the original quirk. just like AFO is linked to Tomura. because yeah lol I’m pretty sure he is you guys.

(: (: (:

so what are the implications of this? well for starters, it looks to me like Deku, AFO, and Tomura all have some connection to each other’s minds. the extent of this is still unknown, so like this doesn’t necessarily mean Deku is going to start making random appearances in Tomura’s mental landscape a la Kylo Ren, or vice versa. or that AFO can spy on the good guys by peering into Deku’s mind. but there is definitely some kind of psychic bond there which is going to be important, mark my words. hell, it already is becoming important; Deku being aware of Tomura’s resurgence is going to have a huge ripple effect on the events of the upcoming chapters. particularly if he, Shouto, and Katsuki end up leaving their assigned posts and running off to help Aizawa, Endeavor, and the rest. there are tons of potential plot implications for this moving forward.

then there’s also the as-yet-unknown depths of the link that’s now present between AFO and Tomura. I’m of the opinion that this is a part of AFO’s soul that’s now residing within Tomura, just as pieces of the Vestiges’ souls are currently chilling out within Deku. I don’t think AFO would have willingly given his power to Tomura unless he had some way of ensuring that he himself would live on in some way. AFO is the antithesis of everything All Might and Deku and OFA represent; if OFA symbolizes selflessness and sacrifice and many souls working together toward a common goal, then AFO represents egoism and greed and the sacrificing of many to benefit only one. OFA is give; AFO is take. AFO has no regard for others. he cares only about himself.

so for AFO to take a page from OFA’s book and decide to pass on his strength to another strikes me as a very uncharacteristic decision on his part. sure, he still gets his revenge, but what’s the point if he’s not around to see it? is he even capable of that kind of thinking? of understanding the concept of living on through someone else? and then there’s the fact that he started raising Tomura as his successor years before he suffered his injury at the hands of All Might. so was he planning this even back then? if so, one has to think there was more to it than him simply giving up his quirk in order to allow Tomura to succeed where he never could. I just don’t feel like it’s the kind of thing he would ever do unless he would somehow be able to bask in that moment himself when it finally came. he just doesn’t do things unless they benefit him directly. I don’t feel like the mere knowledge that Tomura would carry on his mission while he rots away in a jail cell would be enough. not for him; not for someone whose entire character is built around selfishness and greed and an unbridled thirst to make everything his.

but if he gets to somehow live on as part of Tomura, though. through his quirk. if it really is like a horcrux, where that piece of his soul has the capability to continue living on even if the original is destroyed. now, that. that would change everything. because that means he can still be the one in control. he can pull Tomura’s strings from within the shadows of his mind. he can see for himself the look on All Might’s face when he’s killed by the grandson of the woman he thought of as his own mother. he can continue to live on, to rule over everything, to be the lord of evil. so yeah. again, I feel like this is the only thing that would actually make sense, given the kind of person that he is.

anyways, so! lots to think about. and lots of questions remaining to be answered! is AFO aware of the connection he has with All Might’s successor as well as his own? (if so, that’s a huge and very dangerous powder keg which could potentially go off at any moment.) will Tomura, who much like Zuko in a:tla is now caught between two conflicting legacies -- that of the monstrous man who raised him, and that of his grandmother’s blood which runs through him -- prove to be less of a willing puppet than AFO anticipated? particularly if this implied new connection with Deku -- someone who is the complete opposite of AFO in many ways and whose influence would be so starkly unlike any other that Tomura has had in his life since his family died -- ends up panning out in ways AFO did not foresee? and of course, the biggest question of all, “is this theory really true to begin with, or is this all just a giant reach based on inconclusive evidence which we don’t fully understand yet?”

and maybe! lol. but like I said, whatever the actual truth ends up being, I didn’t see much discussion going on about the implications of this strange “he’s coming!” moment. and gosh darn it, I want to know more about this, and I want to know now.

#bnha 270 #bnha meta #shigaraki tomura #midoriya izuku #all for one #one for all #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #long post #bnha theory #all for one for all #horcrux!deku #ofa the first

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warrioreowynofrohan · 3 years

Text

Further Moash Discussion

There has been a good deal of Moash discussion on my feed recently and I’d like to weigh in on a few points. This isn’t the first time time I’ve written about the character: here is my post on his arc during WOR and here is the one focusing on Oathbringer and Rhythm of War. While I ageee that he is interesting, that the “eff Moash” meme is annoying and cuts off discussion, and that a redemption arc is not impossible, I think the apologia has gone rather far and is neglecting to acknowledge several salient facts. So I’m going to cooment on a few points I’ve seen.

Why is Bridge 4 so anti-Moash from the start of Rhythmof War?

Well, it’s not simply because he killed Elhokar. Or rather, that wasn’t an act performed in isolation. Moash switched sides and joined the enemy army that is trying to conquer Roshar in service of Odium. Traitors are generally ill-regarded by the former comrades that they betray, so Bridge 4’s reaction should not really be surprising. If he had killed Elhokar as part of a personal mission of vengeance, the reaction would likely have still been negative but not quite the same.

Secondly, the reactions we see from Bridge 4 early in ROW are after Moash has shown up in Hearthstone; killed innocents (the men in prison) and thrown Kaladin’s inability to save them in Kaladin’s face; and tried to convince Kaladin to kill himself. Of course Bridge 4 hate him for that.

Is Moash fighting against oppression? Is Moash motivated by fighting against oppression?

This is a crucial question of Moash’s character arc, and a nuanced one. Is Moash angry about Alethi oppression of darkeyes? Indisputably. Would Moash like to see the destruction of lighteyed dominance. Again, yes; he says so in TWOK. But is that the goal of the actions for which fandom hates him?

The assassination of Elhokar and his replacement with Dalinar would not have fundamentally altered the Alethi social system. Dalinar is not a social progressive; he is in fact opposed to Jasnah’s more transformative actions in Rhythm of War. The goal of the assassination is to replace a weak, incompetent leader with a strong, competent one, and simultaneously to take revenge on Elhokar. Graves case is that Elhokar’s kingship is bad for the stability of Alethkar; the assassination is to preserve the system, not to overthrow it. In fact, it’s to put not Dalinar as he is now, but the Blackthorn in charge: Graves expects that Elhokar’s death will spur Dalinar to become that man again. This would, with what we now know of the Blackthorn (though neither Moash or Kaladin knew it in WOR) be a change for the worse.

Moash wants revenge, but nothing he is doing is for the benefit of Alethi darkeyes as a group.

When we move on to Oathbringer, Moash’s arc in this regard becomes much more interesting. The chapter “Rhythm of Work” is fundamental to it. In this chapter, Moash is enslaved by the Fused; he reflects that he is enthusiastic, happy, and enjoying himself, and that the Fused are good masters. He considers the enslavement of the humans, darkeyed and lighteyed alike, to be just.

This was certainly far better than his days as a lighteyes, when he’d worried incessantly about the plot against the king. It felt good to be told what to do.

Moash has never thrown off the Alethi social ideology in which he was inculcated; instead, he has repurposed it. Throughout their youth, he and Kaladin were taught that the lighters ruled because they were grand, noble, superior, and that gave them the right to rule. Now, Moash has applied that ideology to the relationship between humans and Fused: the Fused are better, nobler, more well-judging, so it is just and right that they should enslave humans, and humans should be grateful for good conditions as slaves.

He is not fighting against oppression - quite the opposite! He’s simply discarded the unworthy lighteyed masters and chosen new masters who live up to the idea of what the lighteyes were supposed to be.

And this is the context of his thoughts when he rescues the Singers who Kaladin previously helped. “You’re becoming like us,” he says to the Fused. He needs the Fused to be better than humans, to not disappoint him like lighteyes did, because it is that conviction of their superiority that lets him accept enslavement and not be burdened with having to think for himself or make his own decisions.

There is something very strange to me in arguments that treat someone who is motivated by actively desiring enslavement as if he was some kind of revolutionary liberator.

And this isn’t an attitude that Moash throws off at some later point. Throughout the rest of Oathbringer and Rhythm of War, it is the same. He finds motivation only in relation to people from his past (Elhokar, Kaladin); the rest of the time he passively does as he is told without caring why, as with his murder of Jezrien. He seeks out manual labour because it is mindless (and perhaps, because it is physically painful). His sole drive in Rhythm of War is the same as it was at that moment in “Rhythm of Work” when he rescued the abused Singers - to remove anything that could cause him to question his choice to join Odium’s side. In Rhythm of War, that ‘anything’ is Kaladin.

That doesn’t mean he cannot change; indeed, it would make it particularly striking if he did. Venli’s change was no less radical. But he will not necessarily do so. At the moment, he is the precise opposite of a warrior against oppression; he seeks out and desires subjugation and unquestioning obedience, and only acts on his own initivative to destroy whatever might undermine that obedience.

That’s also, I think, whe he doesn’t feel sorry for killing Teft. To regret an action is to conceptualize the idea that it would have been better to have done otherwise. Moash’s fight all through ROW was to extinguish the existence of the concept that it was possible to do otherwise than he had done. He can feel bad, but that only leads to “I want to have still done this, but not feel bad about it” rather than to “I want not to have done this”.

As a result of this: I feel like saying that condemnation of Moash’s actions constitutes “condeming an oppressed person for resisting oppression in the wrong way” is wrongheaded because Moash isn’t fighting against oppression. He’s fighting for subjugation - of himself and others. We’re not talking about Kelsier killing off nobles here.

Is Moash responsible for his actions taken while Odium is removing his emotions?

Short answer: Yes. Fully as much as Dalinar was responsible. for his actions taken under the influence of the Thrill. A little more so, even since Moash knows exactly what Odium is doing, whereas the Alethi were not as clear on the nature of the Thrill. What Odium is doing to Moash is what Moash wants. To say he isn’t resposible is like saying that a person who, by their own choice, gets drunk, and then beats up another person while drunk, is not guilty by reason of drunkenness. This is not how either the law works (else it would be intrinsically impossible to convict a person for drunk driving) or how morality works. Moreover, the state that Moash is in is one he specifically wanted, and every time he loses it his reaction is to immediately panic and try to get it back as soon as possible, not to go “having no emotions led to me doing horrifically evil things; I want to not be like that.”

Given his current state, I don’t see Moash making any attempt or having any desire to be free of Odium; very much the opposite. The best probability I can see for a redemption arc is Odium throwing him off (a newly-blind soldier isn’t especially useful, and Moash’s peculiarities appealed more to Rayse, I think, than they would to Taravangian; Taravangian is much more big-picture than Moash), leaving him blind, alone, and with a mountain of guilt. But I’m biased in this regard; my instinctive sympathy with self-loathing characters makes this appeal to me.

#brandon sanderson #the stormlight archive #moash #rhythm of war #row spoilers #rhythm of war spoilers

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writer-room · 3 years

Text

Siblings: Chapter Three

AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Summary: The Bats reflect on how their thoughts about siblings have changed over the years. Some opinions stayed, others didn't.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason was glad he didn’t have any siblings.

There was a point in his life where he longed for an older brother or sister, when he was younger and fluctuating in and out of his mom's apartment that smelled like a different drug every week. Someone to teach him the ropes and beat up the bigger kids when they stole the food he’d found or the pocket money he’d snatched up.

Nowadays he was grateful he didn’t have anyone to share resources with.

Sure, he didn’t have anyone looking out for him, but that was for the best. He couldn’t learn how to survive on his own if he didn’t get hit a few times, right?

And a younger sibling was out of the question. He couldn’t look after some toddler while he was barely functioning himself. Hell, if he had an older sibling, he wouldn’t have blamed them if this hypothetical sibling ditched him after a month tops.

Attachments in Crime Alley were for people who made gangs, who had followers or brothers-in-arms. That was the best you could get, but don’t expect any of them to risk their lives for you.

A sibling would’ve been seen as a weakness. Someone others could torment to get what they wanted out of him.

He really didn’t want to think about another kid being stuck in this dump with him, either.

It was one of the small mercies of life, that he didn’t have any kin to drag him down.

“Why are you here, again?”

“Because unlike you, Father prefers someone do their job efficiently.”

Jason snorted, side-stepping the henchman who charged him, kicking his leg out and letting him slam his face right into an alley wall.

“I think blasting heads is pretty efficient,” Jason said, twirling one of said guns in his hand as Damian kicked in the face of a second henchman. “But, alas, I’ll have to settle for horrible maiming.” He said, pausing to shoot two fleeing men in the backs of their legs, sending them toppling to the ground.

“Change of heart?” Damian grunted, kicking a goon in the back and using the motion to body-slam into another. “I didn’t think you were capable of such a thing.”

“You wish,” Jason snorted. “Unfortunately, Nightwing would break his no-murder rule just for me if he knew I dared kill in the presence of his majesty with nobody else to be a buffer.” He said with a remorseful sigh.

“Tt,” Damian rolled his eyes, he always made an exaggerated head motion when he did like he was making sure people could tell through the whites of his mask.

“He’s foolish to think that would do anything.” He said, picking up the unconscious body of one of the goons he’d knocked out and tossing it to the side of the alley. “I’ve killed far more than you could dream of.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Jason said, his tone bordering on babying. “But, yeah, ol’ Wing’s got his priorities weird.” He shrugged, letting off another shot when he saw one of the men try to grab what looked like a knife from their scattered supplies.

“Maybe he’s just afraid of us bonding.” He continued, watching as Damian stood before four men splayed on the ground by broken wooden boxes, only two of them barely conscious and cowering away.

“And what, pray tell,” Damian said, psyching out the men by jerking towards them, startling them back against the wall, before turning to Jason with an unamused look. “Would you think to bond over?”

“Let’s see,” Jason hummed, leaning back against the opposite alley wall, gun resting on his shoulder as he counted off his fingers. “History with the League of Assassins, died at one point, killed people, fairly badass if I do say so myself, mothers with horrible morals, should I go on?” He said with a grin.

Damian paused for a moment, eyes narrowed. He thought for a moment before raising his head again to meet Jason’s gaze, a surprising lack of unbridled fury in them.

“Does that not also apply to Orphan?”

Jason paused, caught off-guard. He frowned, recounting off the points he made before staring at Damian, glad that his helmet hid his disturbed expression.

“Damn,” Jason whistled. “Guess the three of us need to bond sometime.”

“I’m sure she will enjoy being included,” Damian hummed, looking over his gloves as one of the seemingly unconscious men behind him opened his eyes. “Though I imagine Father would have some complaints about--”

Now, in Jason’s defense, he hadn’t been paying attention to Bane’s goons. As far as he was concerned, the fight was over. Which was why his attention was on Damian, and not anything around Damian.

Which meant that when one of the men who had been playing possum behind Damian jumped to his feet, gripping one of the wooden boards from the broken boxes in his hand, he barely flinched. In one movement, the man swung the plank of wood like a one-armed batter, connecting with Damian’s head.

Jason jerked the moment the wood hit, immediately sending Damian right to the pavement. He was firing off a shot before he even registered aiming it. The man yelped, falling back and clutching his side as he screamed out swears.

Jason ignored him in favor of crouching down while cursing under his breath, shaking Damian. The kid was blanked for a good few seconds before he jerked and stirred. Not too bad of a hit, not even out for more than a minute. He blinked his eyes rapidly, grumbling incoherently as Jason wrapped an arm around his front, drawing Damian up to his chest.

“B’s gonna kill me,” Jason grumbled, tightening his hold on the boy as he weakly felt around, gripping onto Jason’s arm.

The man wasn’t screaming as much as before, but he was still shouting as he gripped the wooden plank again, yelling about how he was gonna kill Jason or something. He wasn’t really in the mood to care.

Instead, he turned around, still holding Damian upright as he tried to regain consciousness. The man, with one hand still clutching his side, was raising the plank of wood again and waving it wildly around.

“Oh would you shut up?” Jason snapped, aiming his gun.

He fired off two more shots. He didn't pay attention nor particularly worry about where the bullets hit. The man finally slumped against the alley wall, weakly holding himself together and finally shutting his mouth.

Jason holstered his gun, freeing his other hand to wrap around Damian’s chest and hoist him up. Damian was shaking his head, eyes still blinking rapidly.

“The hell?” Damian mumbled.

“B talk to you with that mouth?” Jason lightly teased, shaking Damian slightly.

Despite that, he still scooped up Damian, letting his head lay on his shoulder as he supported him.

“If you bite me for this, I’m dropping you off the first roof I see.” Jason threatened, stepping over one of the other men strewn out on the ground. “I know you haven’t gotten rabies shots, and I’m not taking that chance.”

There were balconies and window sills along the building to the left of the alley, so he used that. One arm kept a muttering and waking up Damian situated while he jumped between the balconies and used his free hand to grab onto the windowsills. It was a slower going than he normally liked, but he figured carrying Damian like a football wouldn’t go over too well.

The second his head popped up over the roof, he was greeted with the sight of black boots with thick blue stripes. One of the feet was softly tapping with slight impatience.

“Goddamnit,” Jason cursed, thunking his head on the edge of the roof, which was pretty uncomfortable considering his helmet was in the way and he was currently dangling by one arm about four stories up.

“I should’ve figured the sounds of murderous screaming were caused by you.” Dick said, crouching in front of Jason with a cheeky grin that crinkled his domino mask. “Having fun?”

“Right now? Worst time I’ve had in weeks,” Jason huffed, pulling himself up higher to reveal Damian hanging off his shoulder.

Dick’s smile dropped instantly. He reached out as Jason offered Damian to him, quickly taking the kid in the gentlest way that only Dick could pull off. Jason almost teased him for it, treating someone like Damian of all kids as fragile. He could be hit by a semi-truck and walk it off like it was an inconvenience.

But Dick was clearly on the brink of having a panic attack, and it wasn’t any fun teasing him when that was happening. All it did was rile him up in the ‘I’m going to curl in a corner and try not to cry’ way and not the superiorly funnier ‘I’m going to punch your teeth in’ way like Damian or Tim.

“He’s fine,” Jason assured him, rolling onto the roof as Dick pushed Damian somewhat upright. At least the kid could properly hold his head up now. “Just took a blow to the head, was barely out for a second. More stunned than anything, I think.”

“Being knocked out is not fine.” Dick stressed, holding onto Damian tighter as he started growling and weakly trying to push Dick away.

“He’s getting better!” Jason huffed, gesturing towards him. “The brat’ll live. Honestly, you didn’t treat the rest of us like glass this after we died.”

“You lost all pity for it when you tried to kill everyone and bring up your death every five minutes,” Dick deadpanned, his worry breaking the moment his gaze left Damian. “And for the record, I do worry about you the same way, it’s just that Dam--Robin here is still a child.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Damian grumbled, still trying to peel Dick’s hands off him.

“He speaks!” Jason gave a sarcastic cheer. “Think you’ll live to see another day?”

“What even happened?” Dick demanded, ignoring Jason’s comments as he stood, helping Damian to his feet.

“Took out some of Bane’s lackeys down there,” Jason said, pointing where he came from with his thumb. “Kid presumably ran off from the old man again and decided to grace me with his presence and help out. Just got a little distracted, he’s fine.”

“Please don’t tell me you killed the guy who did this,” Dick begged, giving Jason an apprehensive look.

“First of all, if I did, he’d deserve it.” Jason said, crossing his arms. “Second of all, no, I didn’t...I think,” He frowned, looking back towards the direction of the alley. “I didn’t actually check. Shot him a few times, though.”

“Okay, okay, stop,” Dick said, raising a hand up. “Every word out of your mouth is making me more anxious by the minute. I’d rather not know.”

“Oh, so when I kill people, it’s a heinous act,” Jason scoffed. “But when a certain ex-assassin lady and demon child kill someone, suddenly you can make excuses.”

“I do not make excuses--”

Damian, with one of his arms freed, batted at Dick with increasing violence until his brother finally released him with obvious hesitation.

“If you two are done bickering like schoolgirls over makeup,” Damian gruffed, pushing himself away. “I believe we are finished here.”

“You could’ve changed ‘schoolgirls’ to ‘Dick and anyone with eyes’ and your statement would’ve stayed the same.” Jason muttered.

“The only thing you know about makeup is how to cover bruises.” Dick retorted, hands on his hips.

“And you only know how to look like a drag queen with excessive glitter.”

“I’ll have you know I look amazing in drag.”

“Obviously, but that is literally the only makeup you know--”

Jason only cut himself off when Damian attempted to roll his eyes and leave without them, instead swaying and stumbling into his steps. He shot out a hand and grabbed Damian by the back of his cloak like the scruff of a cat, holding him up.

“You wanna do this the easy way or the hard way?” Jason said, pulling him back. “Because I’m not against harming a child if it means I can get you back to the Manor in three pieces at worst.”

Damian growled and looked like he was contemplating spitting on him. Jason held his gaze, knowing that if he took off his helmet to give a proper glare that Damian would take the moment of broken eye contact to bolt or something equally stupid.

Dick’s eyes shifted between the two of them with a mix of nervousness and confusion.

“...you will be the one to inform Orphan of the bonding meeting, and will be the one to keep her from doing anything abnormally ridiculous, and whatever other messes she causes during and after.” Damian negotiated slowly.

“Deal,” Jason released Damian, pushing him towards Dick. “Can we go now? I’m getting bored of this already.”

“You’re so impatient,” Dick tutted, looking like he was about to pick up Damian before thinking better of it and deciding to just wrap an arm around his side. “And what did he mean by bonding? Are you two actually getting along?” He gasped in a melodramatic fashion.

“We’re bonding over dying, the League of Assassins, and terrible mothers.” Jason said calmly as Dick pulled out his grappling gun, pausing at Jason’s words.

“And killing people,” Damian added.

“And killing people,” Jason nodded wisely. “We’re getting Cass in on it, too.” He said, sidestepping away from Damian’s attempt to kick him and muttering about using names.

“...as the responsible one, I cannot, in good faith, recommend having an amatuer group therapy session.” Dick said after a moment. “As your brother, however, I commend you getting a hobby that doesn’t involve maiming someone.”

“It’s not group therapy,” Jason scoffed, patting his belt down, wondering if he’d remembered to grab a grappling hook of his own. “We’re not softies who talk about our feelings to professionals like some commoners. We bad-mouth traumatic events like the well-adjusted people we are.” He said matter-of-factly.

“You can’t bully me about going to therapy but then get pissy when I so much as joke about leaving.”

“I can and we will.” Jason said, to which Damian nodded in agreement. “Someone in this family has to convince the little ones to find a non-murderous psychiatrist.”

“You realize that you count as one of the ‘little ones,’ right?” Dick raised a brow. “You’re younger than me.”

“I’m an adult.”

“You count as a little one in my heart.”

Jason and Damian made over exaggerated gagging noises, to which Dick rolled his eyes at, despite his smile, as he withdrew his grappling gun.

“Oh hush, both of you. We’ve got a certain someone to check for a concussion.” He chastised.

“I do not have a concussion.” Damian insisted.

“We’re checking, anyway.”

Damian groaned dramatically, Jason snickering as he shook his head, Dick giving his--their--little brother a light scolding.

They were all going to be the second death of him, he swears.

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pebblysand · 3 years

Text

[the thoughts on canon-compliance you did not ask for.]

last night between 2 and 3 in the morning (look, i couldn’t sleep, got up to write, then got caught up, okay? don’t judge me for my terrible sleeping patterns please) i had a super interesting discussion with a few people on the hinny discord channel about the definition of canon-compliant-ness. i think this is fascinating because to be honest, before getting into the hp fandom, i didn’t even think this was something one could disagree about. to me there was what was canon, and what wasn’t. a very black-and-white sort of system. i’m finding that it’s not.

through the discussions that i’ve had both on my fics and other people’s fics, it seems that i can narrow down - in the hp fandom - three elements of canon.

i. the events of the books/films

now, as a general disclaimer, you can obviously argue about whether the films are ‘canon.’ you can also argue whether cursed child is canon. there’s a lot of elements which differ between those and lots of opinions about how to look at them. personally, i tend to ignore cursed child. as to the books v. films, i pick and choose what suits my story more. generally, that’ll be the books. but for instance, i’m writing a harry&hermione friendship one shot right now, and there are a lot of movie-isms in that story because that is an aspect that was more explored in the films. however, for the purposes of this post, i’m mainly considering the source material to be the seven books. nothing more or less.

having said that, to me personally, that’s what ‘canon’ is: the events of the story and the characters that gravitate around those events, as described in the source material. things like: tom riddle killing lily and james, or harry, ron and hermione rescuing the philosopher’s stone. anything departing from that is, de facto, an ‘au.’ the whole world of what-if scenarios: what if Harry was sorted into slytherin, what if dudley was a wizard, all of those, to me, are aus.

generally, both as a reader and a writer, those are not scenarios i’m particularly drawn to. my default answer to those what-if scenarios is: ‘well, if harry is sorted into slytherin, there’s no story.’ or at the very least, there’s no story as i know it, and if there’s no story as i know it, then i’d rather read/write original fiction. it’s obviously a very personal preference and there are exceptions to this preference. i loved the changeling [1] for instance, and love the self-aware style of dirgewithoutmusic’s aus [2]. but as a general rule, that is not my preferred genre.

now, aside from the what-if scenarios, there’s also the question of filling in the gaps of the story itself. like, i find it interesting that we only make tsunamis [3] is labelled as ‘canon-compliant’ because i get the feeling that a lot of people would disagree that a fic in which hermione is harry’s first kiss is canon compliant. but, by exploiting the silence sometimes left by the author and turning it to your advantage, are you writing an au? is a negative space canon? is silence canon?

again, as a matter of personal opinion, i would not push my definition of canon-compliance as including blank spaces. to me, as long as it does not contradict the letter of the text, adding in events to the books to suit your story (i’ll address character in point ii) does not make your fic an au. to give another example that was brought up to me regarding my own work, i don’t believe that the events described in chapter nine of castles [4] are au because they exist in a blank space of the books. the fact that harry didn’t notice the 1:1s between ginny and amycus doesn’t mean they didn’t happen, it just means that they’re not in the positive space described by the books.

ii. the characters/characterisation

(as a quick vocab note, please note that below, i’m using the terms ‘ooc’ to mean that the characterisation of a character in a fic is not canon-compliant. they’re synonyms to me.)

now, while the above was pretty straight forward, i believe that this is where i perhaps differ from the masses in my interpretation of what “canon-compliance” means. more i discuss with people, the more i realise that i don’t really think there’s a real ‘canon’ characterisation. or at least not in the big things. like, yeah, it’s canon that harry likes treacle tart, because that’s a fact. but anything that is down to psychology or perspective of the character is, to me, generally up for grabs.

as a human, i believe that there’s things that people do, events that they go through, that condition them to act a certain way. while there is a core to every human being, i personally believe that in life, anyone would basically be capable of doing anything, given the right circumstances. i’ve recently - rightfully - been told my writing is all about the power of choice in our life, the reasons why we make those choices and the people those choices lead us to be. for example, do i think i might murder someone tomorrow? probably not. do i think i might be capable of murdering someone in wartime? perhaps? i don’t know, that’s not the world i live in and my life choices have not lead me to find out the answer to that. however, my point is: to me, good ‘characterisation’ is down to the circumstances and choices outlined in any work of fiction. hence, good characterisation is essentially, to me, equal to good writing.

i often say that good writing could make me believe anything and i mean it. i don’t tend to gravitate towards these fics because these ships are not my personal taste but i genuinely believe that good writing could make me believe in drarry or rarry if it tried. it’s funny because over the course of the discussion yesterday on discord, this was brought up ‘well, no one tags drarry as canon compliant,’ and i’m kind of like, i don’t know whether or not they do because i don’t read it but if they did and none of it contradicted the events as detailed in the books, perhaps it could be? like, that would take really good writing (imo), but good writing has - on occasion - made me believe in dramione a couple of times, so why not? in ‘til the sirens come calling [5], good writing made me 100% believe that harry and hermione would have an affair together. in we only make tsunamis [3], it makes me believe that they had this quiet little relationship building throughout hogwarts that we never knew about.

now, though, i suppose the question isn’t: do i believe it? the question is: is it canon? and, i think that’s where i differ from most people because to me, it is. to take ‘til the sirens come calling [5] as an example, i believe the fic is an au because hermione marries victor krum in the end. that’s going against the hard fact presented by the epilogue, and thus makes it an au. but i don’t believe the concept of a harmony affair is inherently au, because nothing is inherently au, character-wise. it’s about how you write it. how those people get to that place. that’s what makes canon-compliantness, in my opinion.

for example, for that fic, truth be told, we don’t know what those nineteen years include per canon, so they could very much include an h/hr affair. and whilst i don’t believe that the characters as they are in the books would have an affair together, i believe that the characters as they are presented in the fic, with the events and hardships that they go through, definitely would. good writing, to me, is - in part - recognising that characters are moving on a spectrum and that whilst their decisions/actions might not make sense in book-verse, they make sense in fic-verse. good writing is convincingly moving your characters from book-verse to fic-verse, and it not feeling ‘off.’

if it does feel off, that is bad writing to me, and that is also ooc-ness/non-canon compliant. it means that for whatever reason, the writer has not successfully transitioned and explained said transition through the events outlined in the story. with the right prose, you could make me believe draco decided to take on a career as a ballerina dancer after the war, and it would still be ‘canon-compliant’ to me. on the other hand, i have read fics (i won’t name them because that would be shit and also i don’t keep track of my ‘bad’ reads) where harry, ginny, hermione, or ron all act according to book canon and yet, their motivations felt off to me and completely ooc because the writing didn’t successfully lure me in. specifically, there was a lack of character evolution that i found uninteresting. i read mostly post-war stuff because i want to see my characters grow up [6].

as a last, additional note on characters, i also think that the characters in a story only exist within the prism of how we view them. this means that to me, locking my own understanding of a character's personality as 'canon' is particularly difficult because my understanding of a character is unique. i believe there are as many harry-s or ginny-s or hermione-s as there are readers. so i think saying someone's interpretation of a character isn't canon-compliant is odd because i don't actually believe there's any wrong or right answer. as i said, do i believe it likely that draco would become a professional ballerina? no. but if that works within your understanding of his character as described in the books, who am i to say that is or isn't canon compliant? i'll admit, the idea makes me sort of lol though.

iii. tone

lastly, i’ve come to find (in potter particularly) that canon-compliance might include tone. as in: hp is a story that is a) written in a certain style and b) written for children/young adults.

regarding style at a), this is honestly the main reason why it took me 15 years to write potter fic, despite the fact that i’ve been a fan for even longer than that. i genuinely thought you had to write like jkr. and i, well, don’t write like jkr. i love the books, but i don’t even particularly like her style. i like: camus, and sorj chalandon, and sally rooney, and dirgewithoutmusic and copper_dust [7]. i have zero ambition to write like jkr and don’t particularly want to read stuff that is written like her stuff either. it’s a style that imo works for her, but it doesn’t work for me as written by other people. i don’t particularly think you need to stick to her style to be canon-compliant.

which brings me onto my actual point: b) hp is a story written for children. young adults perhaps, for the later books. it sometimes explores dark themes but the writing style, the tone, etc. is lighthearted enough that it appeals to a younger audience. there’s snogging but there’s no sex, there’s violence but the torture is mostly off-screen, etc. issues like sexual assault, substance abuse, etc. aren’t explicitely brought up in the books, although they would one hundred percent fit in a book about a war that wasn’t necessarily aimed at children. the question is whether this setting and tone is part of what we call ‘canon-compliance.’

honestly, i don’t know. i didn’t think so until it was brought up to me that castles might be a dark!au and i was like: maybe? like, if you want it to be? i know what i like to read in fanfic: i love the exploration of serious themes that were not explored in the books, or explored differently due to the fact that they were written for children. one thing i will say and insist on is that i don’t think castles is all dark. i actually make a point of having lighthearted moments in each and every chapter, even just a notch, because i am attached to the fact that life as a concept is a mixture of good and bad, and you could laugh at the funeral of someone you loved, again in the right circumstances. but yeah, to me the post-war world is dark. so if tone is part of canon-compliance, then yeah in that way castles (as well as most of the stuff i read, to be honest), is a dark!au.

as a last side note, i’m not sure what that means for my other, lighter stuff though. like are the wolf’s just a puppy [8] or slipped [9] more canon-compliant than castles? i never thought about it in those terms but perhaps? it really opens up a world of questions in my mind and i don’t really have the answers to them.

conclusion:

so in sum, as a reader, what i mean as ‘canon compliant’ is basically a) the events as described in the source material and b) the characterisation of characters as they are at the start of the fic. if character evolution is sufficiently justified and well-written in the following thousands of words that the fic has, then said characterisation can still be canon-compliant, even if the characters act different than they would have in the source material itself. i’m a fan of good writing and good writing can make me buy into literally anything. it takes me places that i've never been before and convinces me that those places are the ones i should be in.

as a writer, i hope that regardless of 'compliance,' whatever i write at least makes ‘sense’ to people within the universe, even if they don’t consider it canon-compliant, per se. i feel like i can’t really be the judge of that. from the discussions we had last night, i feel like there are as many versions of what is and isn't canon-compliant as there are people.

---

[1] the changeling by annerb

[2] the boy with a scar series by dirgewithoutmusic

[3] we only make tsunamis by disOrdely

[4] castles by yours truly

[5] ‘til the sirens come calling by vexmybones

[6] as a side note and to take my own stuff as an another example, i totally agree that harry in castles isn’t harry in the books. i don’t think there’s much debate to be had in that assertion. i wrote him like this frankly because every other fic i’d read didn’t. they often had him sort of continue to be perfectly himself after the war, which i felt wasn’t speaking to me on a deeper level. imo, i think the war’s done a lot of scarring and the fic is about him growing into a new version of himself. so, to me, if i get a comment that says ‘i don’t think harry would act this way but i really love your writing’ it’s somewhat flattering but also confusing because i don’t really understand how one can enjoy the writing but not the characterisation. to me, they’re so intrinsically linked. what the comment tells me is: i think you did a very poor job at explaining character evolution and justifying character x’s [harry’s] choices but i still like your writing, somehow? i suppose that’s nice, but it doesn’t particularly compute in my brain. like, if the character feels off, it means the writing feels off and thus, why are you still reading? i appreciate all and every comment that i get but it doesn’t mean they always make sense in my own brain. if i’m honest, these comments often send me into an ocean of self-doubt about how shit my writing must be.

[7] copper_dust’s work and profile.

[8] the wolf’s just a puppy (and the door’s double locked), again by yours truly

[9] slipped (and said something sort of like your name), same.

#writing #fic writing #canon compliant #the meaning of words #pebblysand goes off a tangent #also general disclaimer that these are my thoughts #there's no wrong or right answer #it's just my own thoughts about the meanings of words

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Trials and Tributes (5/5)

Summary:

"There were witches who lived among them. Or so that's what Levi was told. He just could not believe for the life of him that she'd be one of them."

Levi is a soldier who interrogates witches before they are put on trial and Hange might just be a witch.

Levihan Secret Santa Gift for @cleacourgette

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters: 1 2 3 4

Notes: And.... It’s done. Merry Christmas and a happy new year! I hope you enjoyed the gift ;)

Levi was not one to underestimate the powers of pubs particularly the ones strategically placed on crossroads. Being a place where people relaxed after a long day, a place that prided itself in being constantly changing and completely unpredictable, it was an oasis of both free flowing drinks and free flowing information.

Levi was there for the latter.

From there, he figured out the whereabouts of his uncle overtime. Kenny the Ripper. An assassin for hire who travelled through the southern lands taking down both drug lords and nobles for a fee. He had grown up with the man and had been trained with the bow and arrow and the knives. Kenny the Ripper described in the stories could not be anyone else.

Spending his nights there, he had also figured out the relatively backward society of his homeland especially when compared to the land down south. Witchcraft was something more feared in the cities and towns up north, possibly due to the characteristic religiousness that came with their culture. It could have possibly been due to the amount of power given to the religious authorities in his own country as well.

Five years into his exile Levi had settled for frequenting a pub located on a crossroad, a week’s journey away from the mountain path where he and Erwin had separated more than a decade back. Although he had learned a new language, new customs and adapted a new name, Levi never did forget his life up north. His nights were still haunted by the dreams of Hange on the pyre and the lives he had taken in a frenzy.

Sometimes his dreams were merciful and he would find himself back in the cabin so many years ago listening to rambles over tea. Even the happy dreams though left Levi a bit teary-eyed as he would yearn for the life he lived long ago. In the end though, he started to realize he just wanted to see Hange again.

Hange is ahead of our time. An extraordinary person, born into a society that rejects the extraordinary. Erwin’s words would echo in his head as he lay awake at night. With nothing much else to ponder alone in a dark room at night, Levi found himself worrying about her. Was she sleeping well? Eating well? Had Erwin failed to defend her at court? Was she still able to practice her crazy experiments and mess up some kitchenware in the process?

There were only two ways to find answers. He could go back to the capital and risk death. Or he could strategically frequent pubs for information. The realist in Levi that had only grown a little more influential over the years compelled him to decide on the latter.

The pieces of information Levi had gotten came in small words and sentences, comments and opinions. It required him to piece available information together while settling contradictions that surfaced by gathering more information. He rarely asked anyone directly, saving those cards for when he really needed them. He could still have been a high profile criminal and he risked being recognized and thus, would usually settle for listening in an inconspicuous corner of the pub.

With all the cards lined up against him, Levi was only able to complete the puzzle a decade later. The last piece came one night when a messenger came in to announce the abdication of the crown and the pub exploded into cheers.

“Who’s the new ruling family?”

“The noble family Reiss will be taking the throne.”

A transfer of power was always big news. As Levi listened, he realized he wasn’t too surprised. Among the information he had gotten from his nights in the pub, he had heard of power vacuums and civil unrest which all resulted from a mysterious tragedy decades ago when the nobles had attempted to burn a witch at stake. The theories that had stemmed from that incident with time had made their way to the countries down south.

The devil had rejected the current ruling class. The religious theorized.

The empty seats of power only made it easier for their enemies to usurp. The more secular supporters inferred.

The shift in power dynamics and the fear and unrest among the working class only made it more difficult for the church and the remaining nobility to clamp down on their poor. The decade long political battle culminated into a usurpation of the throne and the reinstallment of a noble family with more secular views and a more blatant distrust on the church and its influence.

Secular views? Levi was sure Erwin was involved. He had felt it then, at the foot of the moment before he had crossed the border, as Erwin recounted his own views on their society. He also knew Erwin would not have taken something as heavy and political as the usurpation of a throne lightly.

Somehow, he felt a weight disappear off his shoulders when others had started to discuss the crimes of the church and their own doubts about religion forced onto them. Was the world Erwin was talking about actually coming?

Levi was aware that he was still a wanted criminal. With the change in power and the possible changes in the society that were bound to follow though, he deemed the risk of entering the country in his current state worth taking.

He decided to go home.

Trials and Tributes

“I knew you’d be back.” Erwin broke the silence in the room.

Levi had entered the city quietly many times before and had managed to avoid attention from many of its inhabitants. He never did figure out whether it was because everyone had forgotten the face of the rogue soldier from the incident a decade ago or because he had just assimilated into the crowds too well.

He had entered Erwin’s office through the window his superior had always left open, intending to wait for the right moment to speak. It turned out Erwin had noticed him first, even behind the shadows.

“How long has it been?” Levi asked. It was just like Erwin to keep a close eye on the shadows.

“Ten years since we last met. Two years since the Reiss family took the throne.” Erwin answered. Two answers for one question.

The journey back to the capital had taken Levi a few weeks give or take. He had lost count of the days, having been too focused on getting back as soon as he could while avoiding attention. “Has anything changed since then?” Levi asked. He knew two years was a long time, enough for some major changes to happen.

“We haven’t had witch trials in years. The nobles and the church had been too busy fighting. But the Reiss family is working to ban witch trials completely. They have plans of drafting a magna carta based on those created by the countries down south so it looks like we might actually be transitioning into a new era.”

“That’s good.” There was not much to say. He knew at least that those two words were genuine.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked about her yet.”

When Erwin had pointed it out, Levi became a little more self aware and consequently, surprised that she hadn’t been the first thing he had asked about. Maybe he had just been a little too surprised at how the city had changed. It had become a little cleaner. It harbored an atmosphere of hope more than an atmosphere of fear. When he first entered Erwin’s room, he had also noticed there were two new bookshelves filled to the brim with books. His desk and chair were both gone and in that corner, a cupboard lay instead. As Levi figured out soon enough, it was filled with books and documents as well.

For a second, he might have forgotten about her. Or maybe he hadn’t. As he further reflected on his thoughts, he realized he was thinking about her. His thoughts of her lay in the hope that had bubbled through him as he navigated his way through the city. That subtle reminder that she probably would have enjoyed the conversations he had overheard among the townspeople --- political speculations and the occasional scientific speculations on strategic farming methods and healing methods. He had allowed himself a few seconds to consider as well the coming of a new era, an age where people like Hange could thrive. And possibly that was what had led to that instinctive first question.

“She must be alive then if you’re so eager to talk about her.” Is she alive? Levi had phrased his question as a statement, as if it could erase all doubts that she could have died in his ten years away from home.

“We keep in touch. Sometimes she visits.”

Levi needed a second to recover from that strong wave of relief that rushed through him. He only noticed his hand was shaking when he brought it up to his eyes to catch any tears that might make their way out he tried to bite them all back. Erwin did not comment on that at least.

“You should go see her. She asks about you every time.”

“What do you say when she asks?”

Erwin shook his head. “I didn’t know where you were. What else could I say? I think she’s sharp enough to tell though that you were the witch--- the rogue soldier everyone was talking about.”

“Do people still talk about it? The incident ten years ago? The rogue soldier?”

Erwin shook his head. “With your actions, all you’ve done is make the usurpation of the throne possible. I don’t think anyone is in a hurry to arrest you now.” He gave Levi a wry smile. “Maybe they’ll even treat you to dinner.”

It was an attempt at humor. Both men silently agreed that the best option would still be to remain low key. Even if Levi weren’t a witch, he was still a murderer after all.

In the end he didn’t mind. It felt like he had lived a lifetime already in those past twenty years. He was raring to see Hange. As he rode up north though, he made no deliberate effort to go faster.

Seeing the familiar landscape along the familiar road to his hometown was a constant reminder that he was on his way home. His body had probably taken that as a sign to prepare him for rest and twenty years worth of aches and fatigue made itself known to him gradually over the long ride.

It was only through those discomforts did he realize he never did have a place to call home the past ten years, having taken odd jobs, having jumped from inn to inn and pub to pub.

The forest where the old cabin he grew up in was on the way to the village and just like always, a five minute ride away, he was sure he would find Hange’s old cabin-turned-apothecary. His cabin stood a little older than the trees around it. Levi had to note that the green that surrounded the cabin, framing it as if it were only a painting, were as green and as fresh as they looked decades ago.

Nature is timeless. Levi found himself admiring it while reminiscing about his childhood. The trees around him and the grass below served as a time capsule.

And it was a time capsule he was eager to open. He dismounted his horse, wanting to feel the grass beneath him as he walked.

He closed his eyes as he walked. With that, he was able to pretend he was a kid again, practicing the art of sneaking while Kenny was away. He let out a quiet laugh in the form of a playful smile and a tiny exhale as he imagined how he had been much noisier as he moved through the taller grass years ago.

Oh, how times have changed. A mocking comment aimed towards the younger self that resided within him.

The large field of grass he silently navigated through should have led to the beginnings of Hange's herb garden. The long weeds around him though opened up to a large tract of land of only bare soil.

That was what snapped Levi out of his trance. For a second, he had assumed that he had taken the wrong path. He wished that were the reason. He was about to look back and retrace his steps when he noticed the cabin at the end of the yards of bare soil in front of him.

Hange’s cabin. With that, he was pulled further and further out of his daydream and into the reality in front of him. He wasn't a kid. In fact, he was already a good number of years past thirty.

It's been 20 years. Of course the world would have changed. He at least attempted to reassure himself. Words were far from reassuring though, overshadowed by the fact that the cabin in front of him looked abandoned, the fields around him bare.

He could have sworn there were rows and rows of herbs there only a decade before. He left his horse out and rushed into the cabin. The dark was easily broken open. In fact as he had pushed it in, it fell out of its hinges.

Hange would have gotten mad if she were here.

If she still lived here. The beds, the table and the kitchen were just like he had last seen it years ago. In fact, they looked to be in a worse state. Levi felt his heart drop as he saw them abandoned and worn. It was impossible to reminisce given the state of the cabin. Or maybe it was impossible because of the state of his mind then. His mind was grappling for answers.

He found lightly jumping on the stool, ignoring the creaks of protest from the chair below him, surveying the contents of all the dilapidated shelves around the room. They were all empty from top to bottom.

“Where’s Hange?” He had said it aloud. A part of him somehow believed someone would answer yet all he received in return were weak echoes.

Erwin did not give him an exact address when Levi had met him in the capital. He had mentioned sending the letters to the post office on the square was more than enough. A messenger would send it to Hange and Erwin still got his replies. Hange was always the one who visited the capital so there was never any need to know her exact address.

There was another question Levi should have asked though. How long had it been since Erwin had last talked to her?

Levi ended up scolding himself for not even asking such an important question. He mounted his horse and galloped towards the direction of the village. His body continued to protest the rough movements of the gallop on his battered body since he had been riding for a lot more than a day already.

He treated the pain and a discomfort though as a punishment. A punishment for so carelessly assuming she would be okay.

His next stop was the center of town, or maybe the pub. Like always, that was the best place to get questions answered. Levi rode quickly, ignoring the houses that dotted the fields that only became more and more frequent as he followed the path.

There were more houses than before. There were more children playing outside. He could hear it in the laughters and the voices that somehow made their way to his ears despite the loud galloping from underneath him. He chose to ignore all of them.

Only one thing would make him stop. Only Hange.

Or any sign at least to where she might be. And as he neared the village, the sign made itself known as the distinct scent that carried too many memories.

Levi had the nose for it. He had smelled it too many times to know. If he had been a little more eloquent, maybe he would have even been able to recount the journey it made, recount the way his mind processed the scent from the fruits to the flowers then to the cold wind that rushed up his nose despite it being a warm afternoon.

It only got stronger and stronger as he followed the path. He quickened his pace further until he reached the center of town where it was impossible to gallop without risking running someone over.

Somehow, the scent remained unyielding, despite the other stimuli threatening to overshadow it. As he rode through town, he kept his head down, relying instead on the cobblestone streets to lead him to the right direction. He could hear multiple conversations at once, not bothering to make sense of them. He stayed focused on the scent.

His other senses only got stronger as the scent got stronger though. Levi soon realized he was just getting more alert for any signs of where it was and how it would manifest itself then.

“Can you show me your magic again?”

“It’s not magic Anna... It’s just nature.”

"Show me your nature trick then!"

"Fine, let's go back to the house. Not here where it's too crowded."

He was hearing a hundred conversations at once but somehow, that conversation stood out. He had instinctively looked toward the general direction where he had heard them. It had taken him a few minutes to follow the voices, having kept a record of it engraved in his head. He recognized the voice and he found himself repeating that last sentence in his head as he scanned the crowd of people.

Levi though had instinctively settled for looking through the areas with larger crowds of people towards the center of town and maybe the main square. If he had been sharper about it, he probably would have traced the conversation to the garden on the little corner, at the back of what used to be the pub.

He had ended up wasting an hour more than necessary, the voice and the conversation long gone from his mind. He settled for going to the pub, or at least where he remembered it to be.

The pub of decades ago was replaced by a quaint house which could have been owned by anyone. It could have been from a sense of duty or a bout of nostalgia but somehow, Levi felt the need to investigate. He followed the narrow road which would lead him to the back of the pub, further spurred on by the scent that resurfaced as he got further away from the bustle of the town center. The narrow road opened up to green fields and as Levi soon realized, that green field was an the herb garden stretched for yards or maybe even hectares, much bigger than what he had stumble upon so many years ago. He had to note that the herbs had dividers. An oddly calming improvement.

“Watch.”

He turned around instinctively at the gasps of surprise. Hange was there and just like the many years ago, her hand was on fire.

Her hand was on fire. He would have panicked, if he didn’t see the way she had playfully smiled at the kids.

“Don’t try this at home.”

“But how did you do it?” One of the kids asked.

“I showed you before right? If you try to mix the oil and the water, the oil rises to the top. If I wet my hand like this…” She dipped her hand in a bowl and put it over the flame of the candle. “I can hold the fire.”

“Why isn’t it hot?”

“The water cools my skin and the fire has to make the oil evaporate before it reaches the water.”

“Can I try?” One of the children attempted to dip her hand into the mixture.

“No, not yet. You might get burned. I got burned the first time I tried it.”

That same child pouted then sighed in disappointment. “Can you do it again?”

Levi watched silently as she did the trick again. That same trick from ten years ago. She played with the flame of her hand, holding it like a pet the same way she had done ten years ago. and somehow, Levi realized her eerie smile then was the same smile she was giving the children then.

He had the luxury of time to observe her closely and carefully and as he realized soon enough, her smile was far from creepy. In fact, the smile she gave them was complemented by her eyes which held the same wonder he had seen them hold so many times before.

He could have sat on his horse all day just watching. In fact, he wanted to. He was also in too much pain to have been able to move from his spot.

The scent that wafted through the air was strong. Levi was very much certain then that it was that same scent he had been following the past few hours

Following the scent had only brought him back to her.

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting on the horse. Eventually though, Hange did notice he was there. He relished everything from the look of surprise she had given as she made eye contact with him, the way she would shake her head, look away then look back at him and the fact she had repeated that a comical number of times.

Levi couldn’t help but smile. He had done the same thing so many times before when faced with his own mirages, his own tricks of the eye fueled by the longing that had plagued him during his time in the south. He had seen too many tall brunettes that could have just been Hange if he didn’t look too closely.

Finally, when she was satisfied with the amount of times she had blinked and shook her head, she stood up from her stool and walked towards him.

“You can get off your horse now.”

It turned out all he needed to lose his inhibitions and collapse in exhaustion was any sign that she was near. Her voice and her touch were more than enough. He closed his eyes as he felt her arms around her.

I’m home. I can rest. How long since he had felt that?

Teacher, who’s that?

An old friend.

Really? Why are you blushing?

He awoke again to that same scent. It wafted through the air but at the same time he could feel it as a cool wind soothing his aching joints. He couldn't help but be grateful that the ache had dulled though and as he took stock of the scents and the feelings on his joints, he started to understand why.

"You didn't really catch a rest huh? How long have you been on your horse?" Hange’s voice was distant.

As he looked to his side, he saw Hange on her work bench, looking focused on something. "Didn't count..." He answered.

She stood up from her place on the bench and settled on a chair by his bedside. “It's morning now. You slept for more than half a day."

“Maybe I did see the sun set then rise a few times,” Levi admitted. "The oil you were burning then, that’s the same thing you put on me?” He asked in an attempt to digress.

Hange nodded. "I use it a lot now,” she said.

"Why?"

"It’s useful....It makes a good fire and it smells so good I think of you." A second later, Hange blushed and looked away, possibly at the realization of what she had just said. “I mean I made it for you of course I’d think of you.”

Levi reached for her hand and lightly pulled it towards himself, willing her to look at him again. "I like the smell. Actually, I liked it so much I followed it here and it brought me to you." That was something he probably would have regretted saying any other day. At that moment though, his only goal was to placate the already flustered Hange in front of him.

His attempt looked to be somewhat successful. She still seemed a little unsure but the toothy grin she gave him was an improvement at least. "I told you before, don't underestimate your sense of smell." Hange leaned over on the bed next to him and with that the scent only got stronger.

With that, their faces were only a few inches away from each other and Levi suddenly felt the need to cover that small distance. His neck was protesting that action though. It turned out his body still ached from his long journey.

"So I guess it was a good idea that I burned the oil every night.” Hange chuckled. “It was a long shot but I thought maybe you'd recognize it."

"You assumed I’d be back?”

“I had faith we’d meet again.” As she said it Hange covered that distance and their two lips met in one natural yet magical kiss. So magical that Levi felt it consume him, and warm him up from his lips to the tips of his toes. It tickled his throat and as he pulled away, he ended up letting out that deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding in.

All phenomena should have a scientific explanation. Hange has the analysis and deduction skills to figure them out.

Levi had wanted to ask here about it, about the way that kiss had shook him inside and out, leaving him giddy and almost shaking. He looked to her to see that she was also as surprised. She was blushing and not at all like she was in the mood to explain anything.

Or maybe she didn’t have an explanation for it. He thought as he saw the face she had made. Her eyes were wide and for a second, she was frozen on her spot before she quickly pulled away. Then it must be magic?

Logical reasoning brought him back to the conclusion that he had made so many times before. Maybe she is a witch.

Even if she were though, he didn’t care. That glimmer of magic he had felt at that moment would be his little secret.

Our little secret. Levi was quick to correct himself. He was sure she had felt it too after all.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #fanfic

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imjusthereforbatfam · 4 years

Text

Never-Ending Encore, Chapter 1

Summary/Intro: Okay. Ignoring all the death and dying, Eden Smith is a fairly normal person. So maybe not everyone grows up on a farm and gains a new “cousin” every few years, and— I mean, yeah, most people don’t have a mother who definitely used to kill people for a living, or have a father who walked out when they refused to become a superhero, or ran away to Gotham without telling anyone they know, or— or— Okay, FINE! Maybe Eden ISN'T entirely normal. Can’t you just let her eat her cookies and die a couple times in peace? Sheesh!

Pairing: Jason Todd/Red Hood x OC

It’s supposed to be a little silly mixed with a little sad so just go into it with that in mind plz. Hopefully it’s not GOD AWFUL.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Chapter One:

It was, for once, a quiet night in Eden’s apartment. Her upstairs neighbors weren’t hosting an orgy or starting World War 3, the baby downstairs wasn’t crying bloody murder, and her next-door-neighbor wasn’t screaming at the TV.

Out on the street, it was equally quiet. Sure, a car alarm had gone off a few minutes ago, but there was no drunken shouting. No random gunshots, no gratuitous explosions in the distance. In fact, for what must’ve been the first night since she’d moved there, the city of Gotham actually seemed at ease.

Maybe that should’ve put Eden on edge. Maybe it was some kind of warning, a calm before an inevitable storm. But it was the first sense of peace she'd felt in months. She couldn't just ignore it. Instead of curling up on her bed with her headphones full blast, questioning her life choices, she sat out on the fire escape and enjoyed the calm night.

Her apartment was situated just high enough to peek over the rooftops of most of the neighboring buildings. The outline of Gotham’s tallest skyscrapers stood in the distance and car lights twinkled on the nearby highway like stars. Out here, a thick stench of smog and rotting trash usually choked the air, but tonight a soft breeze blew it away. A soft mixture of brick, iron, the herbs she was growing, and her freshly baked cookies took its place.

If she closed her eyes and tried – really, really tried – it almost felt like being back home.

The thick blanket wrapped around her could just as easily be protecting her from splinters on the front porch. The distant sound of cars could be a gust of wind blowing through the trees or the horses playing in the field. Her freshly baked snickerdoodles couldn’t be Mama’s – nobody’s cookies ever tasted as good as Mama’s – but Eden could at least pretend she’d made them at their small bakery at the edge of the road.

She ate another, savoring the warm, chewy center and trying not to focus on the difference in taste. She was baking most of their goods by heart by the time she was ten years old. Blindfold her, tie one hand behind her back, and Eden could still probably make anything on the menu without much trouble. But for some reason, here… things didn’t taste the way they were supposed to.

They still tasted good, she assured herself as she took another bite. It was probably just the store-bought ingredients she’d had to settle for. Or the city water. Or that they made her miss home.

Eden frowned. She quickly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, pushing the idea away. She had more important things to worry about right now than cookies and tastes. Like her newest job.

She'd landed a new role just last week and the sooner she could be off-script, the happier her director would be. She only spoke in three scenes of this show, but that was two more than the previous one and she was on-stage for several more. The better she did, the better her referrals would be. The better the referrals, the more work she would get, and the closer she would be to getting bigger roles. When she got bigger roles, she’d get even better referrals, which would land her even bigger roles, and so on and so forth until she could afford an apartment in a, uh… less interesting part of Gotham.

Even in this hotbox-of-crime neighborhood, her studio apartment somehow cost more than twice the two-bedroom house Kit and her boyfriend were renting back home. And the insurance fees in Gotham? Outrageous. But sadly necessary considering all the nutzo shenanigans that went down in the city. As much as it would kill her to work in an office, those insurance companies probably made some serious bank, so getting a “real job” at one at some point wasn’t totally off the table.

Eden huffed, unclipping her reading light to turn the page of the script and attaching it again. She had a good thing going now, but she was more than aware it was borrowed time.

Eventually, Frank's money would run out. Eventually, she’d need to call home and explain herself. Eventually eventually, she’d have to actually go home. She’d have to face everyone’s feelings of hurt and betrayal, including her mother’s, which would most certainly be laced with Louanne Smith's particularly frightening brand of ice-cold wrath. Eden would also probably get mugged or murdered in this insane city at least twice and have to listen to everyone's “I told you so"s.

But that wasn’t right now. Right now, Eden had it okay.

She had a small, shitty apartment in a huge, shitty city where she would most certainly die if she wasn’t careful, but at least it was her own place. No overbearing mother always staring over her shoulder, no runaways taking her bed for the night, no rag-tag group of semi-siblings gobbling up her time and space and arguing house rules when she fought back. This was her space, damn it, and she didn’t have to share it with anybody unless she wanted to! Not that she’d want anyone else coming to such a colorful part of Gotham in the first place, but still! It was hers.

And nobody here knew her. There was no history she had to take into account every time she stepped outside; no old rivalries or mishaps that mapped out which side of town she was and wasn’t safe on. In Gotham, you just plain old weren’t safe no matter who you were, where you were, or what you’d done. Eden had learned that quick. She almost preferred it some ways. It was easier than the small-town, passive-aggressive grudges and back-stabbings she'd grown up around.

Not to mention she had Gotham’s robust, ever-growing performance industry at her disposal. Despite all the insanity and crime that surrounded them – or, perhaps, because it surrounded them – the wealthy here demanded a constant stream of grand symphonies, operas, ballets, and so forth to distract them. Performers in Gotham were paid better than anywhere else in America. They had to be. With how often performances were interrupted by madmen and villains here, it had to be worth the risk.

For Eden, that risk wasn't something she really needed to consider. If something happened, she'd be fine. She always was. She was "lucky" like that.

And besides, fewer people willing to risk getting shot or blown up in the middle of a performance meant fewer people at auditions! Getting to be on stage, getting to follow her dreams... That was why Eden had left the farm in the first place. And Gotham was the best place for her to achieve those dreams as quickly as possible. So things were okay.

Really! Even if she was a little homesick, even if this dirty town was too crowded and too crazy, even if guilt hung over her like a knife... things were okay.

In fact, at this exact moment – in the strange but welcomed quiet of the night, practicing what she loved, eating still-warm cookies out in the open air – things felt better than okay. Things for once, actually, genuinely, felt good.

Then, a shadow flickered over her.

Eden froze.

Her free hand hovered over the plate of cookies. She’d been turning in such a way, leaning over the stair she was sitting on to reach the plate, that all her weight was now pushing into her toes. It was a hard position to hold without falling over. Blinding, too. Her head was cast down, facing the cookies and not at all in the direction of the shadow.

She wanted to move. Just enough to right herself and let her look somewhere beyond the metal grating underneath her. But Eden could practically hear Mr. Monroe, her old coach, scolding her.

“Hold position!” he’d say. Then, after noticing her shaking knees, he would trill, “I said hold, Eden! Keep your limbs still. Breathe carefully. I don’t want to see a single sign of life. In this moment, you are a prop. You are the scenery!”

The fire escape gave a small, almost unnoticeable shake as something dropped near her. Eden's limbs jerked instinctively. She shut her eyes, silently cursing, hoping it was just a raccoon.

Did Gotham even have raccoons? Eden hoped very much that they had raccoons. Giant, mutant raccoons that could cast large shadows and make fire escapes shake when they landed.

“You planning on staying like that all night or…?” a distorted voice asked.

Heartbreaking News: Gotham City does not have mutant raccoons.

---

Chapter 2

#jason todd x oc #red hood x oc #jason todd x reader #Jason Todd #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #Never-Ending Encore #original character #oc: Eden Smith #idk what i'm doing #help #my writing #cross posted on ao3 #plz dont kill me #Fluff #angst #eventual smut?

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

Text

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 11

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3537 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Franky, Smoker, Tashigi, Vergo Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he's 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law finds a strange connection to Monkey D. Luffy, which offers a glimpse of something he's repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Smoker’s eyes widened. “Vergo? What is the head of G-5 doing here?”

“I’m here on business, Vice Admiral,” Vergo replied, inclining his head at Smoker.

“We called for backup but were told you were on leave,” the swordswoman said, frowning.

He never said whose business he’s here on, Law thought wryly as he sliced through the chains holding the two Marines captive. He stepped back out of the cage, eyeing Vergo. Law didn’t like the sense of satisfaction radiating off the older man. He’d heard what Law had said—but had anyone else?

“Doffy didn’t believe me before that you’re a traitor, but now he’ll have it in your own words, Law.”

Could Vergo have a line open to Dressrosa? Or perhaps he’d recorded what Law had said.

It also confirmed that Vergo had called Doffy with his report on Law’s defection, but apparently Doffy wasn’t buying it; the Warlord knew full well the safeguards he’d put into place to prevent Law from betraying him, after all. If Vergo had proof, though…

Law needed to make sure those words never left this room.

“I didn’t think you’d be so foolish as to blow your cover over a grudge,” Law commented, raising an eyebrow. He kept his tone purposefully light, but he expanded his Room and kept Kikoku hefted in front of him.

With a quick scan of his Room, he found Zoro’s swords and Shambled them into the man’s hands. Zoro let out a surprised yelp (one Law knew he would deny making until his dying day), and Law’s lip twitched as he glanced back and met the pirate hunter’s eye. The other man’s startled expression quickly shifted into a nod of appreciation as he replaced the blades at his side.

“Cover?” the swordswoman asked, following Smoker out of the cell.

Smoker jerked. “A traitor?” he growled, glancing between Law and Vergo. His gaze finally settled on the base commander. He shook his head, and Law could practically hear the pieces clicking into place in his brain. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. You’re the one who’s been covering up the abductions of the children, aren’t you?”

“Don’t feel too bad, White Chase-ya,” Law said, and Smoker looked back at him suspiciously. “It’s not like Vergo was a traitor to the Marines. Vergo was a pirate from the start.”

“What?”

Law couldn’t help his lip curling into a sneer. “He’s Doflamingo’s most trusted subordinate. He joined the Marines on his orders fifteen years ago and climbed the ranks.”

“A pirate posing as a Marine,” Smoker hissed. “Shameful.” He shook his head, disgusted.

“How dare you,” the captain yelled at Vergo, betrayal tinging the anger in her voice. “Those children are innocent!”

“They’re sacrifices for the greater good, Captain Tashigi,” Vergo said simply. He’d been watching the exchange with a bored affect in place, though Law knew better than to take him at face value; Vergo was always poised to attack.

“The greater good?” the cat burglar snapped. “What greater good could possibly come from experimenting on children?”

“That is super messed up,” the cyborg agreed.

“A world ruled by Donquixote Doflamingo, of course,” Vergo said, as though the answer were obvious. And, Law supposed, for Vergo, it was. “Give me some credit for keeping up my cover, Smoker-kun. I’ve been on my guard ever since you transferred to G-5. It will be good to finally be rid of that concern.”

Vergo turned back to Law. “And who says I’m blowing my cover, Law?” Vergo had completely dispensed with Law’s title, apparently. He’d never respected Law as a successor, no matter how many times Doffy pushed him on it, and now he had the excuse to back it up. “None of them are leaving this island. I’ll file it away as a tragic accident at sea, as always.”

Law narrowed his eyes, reminded once more of the World Government’s coverup of Flevance’s destruction. Vergo, as far as Law was concerned, was proof pirates and soldiers weren’t so different, no matter what people like Smoker professed. Law knew he was no better, but he also never claimed to be.

“I won’t let that happen,” Smoker snarled. He didn’t have his jitte since he’d been captured—and Law wasn’t feeling particularly inclined to return the weapon that had taken him down with Seastone—but he didn’t let that stop him.

Smoker shifted into smoke form and charged Vergo with an outraged yell. He had to know about Vergo’s talent with haki and the effect it would have on his Fruit’s abilities, but he attacked anyway, his fury at his base commander’s betrayal driving him on.

“Smoker-san!” the captain called, worried.

“What is he doing?” Zoro muttered.

Smoker punched at Vergo with a smoky tendril, but Vergo blackened his arm and grabbed the smoke. Smoker cursed as Vergo spun and whipped him into the far wall. Smoker coughed and sagged to the floor. His second and the Straw Hats gasped, but Law took the moment of distraction to Scan Vergo; there was a Den Den Mushi in his pocket.

With a twitch of his fingers, the Den Den Mushi flew from Vergo’s coat toward Law. Vergo’s eyes snapped toward him.

“No!”

Law grabbed the snail from midair, and he pocketed it just as Vergo’s haki-coated stick slammed into his chest, tossing him like a rag doll into the wall behind him. The back of Law’s head hit the metal; his vision briefly went dark, and his stomach threatened to empty itself—another blow to his head was not what Law needed when he already had a concussion—but Law, taking a stabilizing breath, was able to collect his wits and keep his Room from falling. He Shambled himself across the room before Vergo could recover the Den Den Mushi.

“Brat!” Vergo snapped as he turned to find Law slumped over on one of the couches, having swapped places with a pillow. “But I suppose running away is always what you’ve done best.”

Law could vaguely hear the Straw Hats making some kind of commotion, though their words wouldn’t form in his ears; his blurry vision, however, was directed entirely toward the man striding toward him, a murderous intent barely contained beneath his haki-clad skin; Vergo knew he couldn’t kill Law before bringing him back to Dressrosa, but that wouldn’t stop him from beating the shit out of him—again.

Law just needed a moment to bring his vision back into focus…

Suddenly, Vergo was flying across the room. He crashed into the far wall and crumpled. Law blinked, his battered brain trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Belatedly, he turned to see Straw Hat, flanked by his crewmates, standing in the doorway, his rubbery arm returning to him with a loud snap.

Before dealing with that, Law pulled Vergo’s Den Den Mushi from his pocketed and noted in relief that there wasn’t a live line open. That meant Doffy hadn’t been listening in. Vergo still could have recorded his words, but Law would worry about that later. If Doffy hadn’t heard Law, then all Law had to do was prevent Vergo from bringing his words back to Dressrosa.

He pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the new arrivals. His vision was clearing, but his balance was still slightly off. The doctor in him was concerned, but the pirate in him knew he didn’t have the luxury of taking a break.

The two factions of Straw Hats were greeting each other happily. Straw Hat’s expression lit up as Law approached.

“Torao!”

“What are you doing here, Straw Hat-ya?” Law demanded. “We agreed you would wait.”

Straw Hat frowned. “We were talking, but then there was all this chaos on Torao’s end of the line. No one was responding. It sounded dangerous, so we decided to help.”

Ah. Law supposed he had gotten distracted by Vergo’s appearance and hadn’t considered how that would have sounded to the Straw Hats listening in.

“So, what exactly happened to cause this?” the cat burglar asked, gesturing between Straw Hat and Law. Though she’d agreed to trust Straw Hat, she was still suspicious of Law—and she was right to be.

Still, Law ignored her. They didn’t have time for this; Vergo wouldn’t stay down long, even after taking a hit like that.

“If you want to rescue the children, this would be the time to do it,” he said.

“What about him?” Straw Hat asked, nodding back toward Vergo.

Law grimaced as he noticed Vergo stirring. “I can handle it.”

“Because that went so well before,” Black Leg muttered.

Law ignored him as well. He didn’t have Seastone draining his abilities now. “I’ll handle it,” he repeated, looking directly at Straw Hat. Vergo might be taking an excuse to finish what he’d started thirteen years earlier, but Law wasn’t a terminally ill child anymore. It was unfinished business for them both.

“Luffy, what—” the cat burglar started.

But Straw Hat studied Law’s face for a long moment and seemed to find whatever he was looking for because he nodded. “Okay.”

Law felt a measure of relief at the response; it wasn’t that he needed Straw Hat’s permission to take on Vergo—alliance or not, he wouldn’t let anyone take this fight from him—but having his agreement was a lot easier. His crew would follow his lead, and they’d be able to accomplish both their tasks and move on to rescuing Law’s nakama.

“What?” several Straw Hats gasped.

“Okay,” Straw Hat repeated. “Torao will handle the Verto guy, and we’ll go after the kids.”

“You think I’m going to let that happen?” Vergo said. He’d risen to his feet and stood, arms crossed, in front of the doorway the Straw Hats would need to go through to find the children.

Straw Hat made to draw his arm back again, but before he could strike, Law held out a hand. Straw Hat stopped, eyeing Law curiously.

“Go. Caesar and Monet are still with the children. They’re both Fruit users, so don’t take them lightly.”

“But—”

Law Shambled Vergo into the cage, and, with a few twists of his fingers, retwined the wires holding the front of the cage together. The doorway was now open, and Vergo cursed. The cage wouldn’t hold him long, but it didn’t need to—just long enough for the others to leave.

Straw Hat whooped. “Thanks, Torao!” he called as he charged forward, the promise of a fight clearly drawing him like a magnet.

“Wait, Luffy!” the cat burglar called, running after her captain. “You don’t know where you’re going!”

Straw Hat’s laughter echoed against the metal walls as the Straw Hats and, Law noticed, Smoker’s second filed out of the open doorway. Smoker, however, remained where he was; he’d gotten to his feet while Law was talking to the Straw Hats. Law narrowed his eyes at the other man.

“This is my fight, White Chase-ya. Stay out of my way.”

“That man is a traitor to the Marines, and I plan to see justice done,” Smoker said, voice tight, as he strode up next to Law. “Don’t get in my way, pirate.”

Law and Smoker both turned at the sound of a metallic slam; Vergo had kicked the cage’s front out, the metal wiring sliding several feet across the floor before coming to rest. Though Vergo’s eyes were still hidden behind his glasses, Law could feel the anger radiating off the man.

“Enough,” he snapped, stepping back into the room.

“My thoughts exactly,” Smoker roared, charging at Vergo. “Traitor!”

Law sighed but didn’t intervene. Though he thought the man was being foolish considering how his previous attack had failed, Law could understand his rage at realizing Vergo, the base commander of his own unit, was a traitor.

However, Smoker wouldn’t get an advantage on Vergo this way; Vergo’s haki was superior to the other vice admiral’s. The first Corazon didn’t have a Devil Fruit to enhance his attacks, so he’d trained and honed his haki over the years until his masterful control and overwhelming power became what he was known for. For a Logia like Smoker, Vergo was a bad matchup.

Still, if he wanted to wear Vergo down while Law took a few moments to rest, Law wasn’t going to object. At full strength, Law wasn’t particularly concerned about taking Vergo on, but he didn’t want to take any chances when he was unsteady with a head injury. As the two vice admirals clashed, Law scanned the room until he found Smoker’s jitte. He could still feel the ghost of the Seastone tip slamming into his back, causing his Room to fall around him as weakness spread through his entire body. Law grimaced, but, grudgingly, he summoned the weapon into his hand.

“White Chase-ya,” he called as Smoker fell back from a swipe of Vergo’s bamboo stick.

“What?” Smoker demanded, not looking toward Law.

“Catch.” He tossed the jitte in the man’s direction.

Smoker’s eyes flicked in his direction then widened as he saw his weapon flying in his direction. He sent a smoky arm toward it, grabbing the hilt before Vergo could interfere. He grunted a nod in Law’s direction, clearly unhappy to owe Law anything else.

Even with his jitte, Smoker was clearly outmatched. Vergo’s haki-coated arms were able to strike Smoker’s smoke form, forcing him to revert to his base form. They traded blows, Vergo’s bamboo stick with Smoker’s jitte. Vergo’s haki-enhanced hits pushed Smoker into retreat.

“It’s no use, Smoker-kun,” Vergo taunted. “You’re no match for me.”

“You’ve betrayed G-5. The men trusted you. I’ll see you pay for that, pirate,” Smoker snarled back.

Vergo side-stepped Smoker’s blow and looked at him curiously. “You seem to care for those morons. Why?”

Smoker leapt at Vergo, only to be pushed aside by his bamboo. “Because they’re my men!”

Vergo tsked. “And that is your problem, Smoker-kun. Placing loyalty in trash. You will only end up discarded along with them.”

Smoker roared in response, but Vergo kicked out and tripped Smoker. Smoker fell backwards, hissing as his back hit the floor. His eyes widened as Vergo suddenly appeared above him, ready to strike a killing blow with his bamboo.

Deciding he’d seen enough, Law twitched his fingers, sending Vergo to the far side of the room.

“Law,” Vergo growled when he realized what had happened. “Don’t interfere. I’ll have time for you, too.”

Law rolled his eyes and turned back to Smoker. “Enough, White Chase-ya.”

“Dammit, Corazon! I can still—” He broke off, wincing at what Law would guess were broken ribs from Vergo’s many haki-enhanced blows.

“I can see that,” Law replied wryly. “Don’t make me move you, too.”

Smoker glowered but didn’t argue.

As Vergo started charging back toward Law and Smoker, Law Shambled himself across the room, directly into Vergo’s path. He swung Kikoku, but Vergo dodged just in time. A large chunk of the wall behind Vergo came down with a loud clatter. Law swung his blade several more times to create smaller pieces of metal from the fallen wall.

Law turned on his heel and immediately jumped back toward Vergo, using Kikoku to block a flurry of blows. His arms shook under the strain of countering the strikes, but he gritted his teeth then powered forward, driving Vergo back.

Lifting a finger, Law used Takt to lift the metal pieces he’d created and hurled them toward Vergo. The vice admiral cursed and dodged the large sheets of metal, knocking those he couldn’t dodge away with his stick.

“What’s wrong, Vergo?” Law taunted as he ducked under the flying pieces of metal to approach his target. “Not so easy when your target isn’t shackled in Seastone?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Law.”

Law sent a large piece of metal Vergo had already knocked away back toward Vergo and ducked behind it; Law followed its path, so when Vergo knocked it out of his way again, he jolted in surprise as Law suddenly appeared. He swung his bamboo to push Law back, but Law ducked under Vergo’s outstretched arm, catching the man off-guard.

Law shoved his free hand forward into Vergo’s chest. Mes.

Vergo gasped as his heart was expelled backward. He slumped forward as Law summoned the heart into his hand.

“Bastard,” Vergo hissed.

To his credit, Vergo’s heartrate remained steady as he kneeled in front of Law. Even now, he wouldn’t let his successor rattle him.

“I have your life literally in my hand, Vergo,” Law said, eyeing the heart. “I’d watch my tongue if I were you.”

“And what will you do with it, boy?” Vergo sneered, looking up. “Kill me?”

As Law felt the heart pulse steady in his hand, memories of Minion Island flashed in front of his mind’s eye.

Finding Vergo as he looked for help for the fallen Cora-san.

Vergo and Cora-san recognizing each other.

Vergo beating the wounded Cora-san, taunting him all the while.

Vergo beating Law, no sympathy for a dying child.

Vergo leaving them both, battered and bloody, in the snow to report to Doflamingo.

Law squeezed the heart, and Vergo writhed on the ground, pained groans coming through his clenched teeth.

Cora-san. Law released his grip on the heart. Vergo let out relieved gasps and slowly stilled.

“Corazon,” Smoker said slowly, as if afraid to spook Law. “He needs to face justice.”

Cora-san had always believed in justice. He hadn’t wanted to kill Doflamingo but bring him in. He wouldn’t want to kill Vergo either but instead, like Smoker, to bring him to justice.

Law wasn’t like them.

“Justice,” he scoffed bitterly, eyes never leaving the heart in his hand. “Where was justice when my little sister collapsed from Amber Lead Disease at seven years old and died as my parents’ clinic burned to the ground? Where was justice when soldiers destroyed my country then covered it up?” Law could hear his voice rising in his ears as he spoke, but he didn’t care. Years of pent-up rage flowed through his veins. “Where was justice when the man who saved me was murdered for it? Where was justice—”

He cut himself off at the sound of Vergo’s choking laughter, throat tightening as he realized what he’d just said.

“There’s no such thing as justice, Smoker-kun,” Vergo said between pained gasps. “There is only strength and weakness.” He turned his head to stare at Law. “And your precious Cora-san was weak, Law. Just like you.”

Fury rising in his chest, Law squeezed the heart again, Vergo’s screams a melody to his ears.

When Law let go of the heart once more, Vergo collapsed to the floor and panted. For years, Law had waited for the chance to avenge what Vergo had done to him and Cora-san that night; Vergo had haunted his nightmares, a looming figure of cruelty. But now, laid out on the ground and trying to hold onto his pride in his defeat, Law thought he looked pathetic.

And just like that, the fury drained out of him, leaving him feeling oddly hollow.

“So now what, Law?” Vergo asked between gasps for air. “You can’t kill me.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“What do you think Doffy would do to you if you did? To your crew?”

Law barked a humorless laugh. “If he thinks I’m a traitor, we’re all dead anyway.” He narrowed his eyes. “Might as well take you with me.”

Vergo frowned. “You know how the Family deals with traitors.”

“I do,” Law agreed.

“He’ll never let you go,” Vergo said. “Not until he’s done with you. Wherever you go, he’ll find you.”

“I know.” That was why he’d return to Dressrosa once his business here was done. “Don’t worry, Vergo-san. I’ll file it away as a tragic accident at sea.”

He tightened his grip around Vergo’s heart, watching as the man writhed. He felt… nothing. Vergo coughed blood, but the satisfaction Law had expected to feel at the sight of Vergo dying at his hands was missing, sucked into the hollowness in his chest.

“Corazon, you don’t have to do this,” Smoker spoke up. “I can take him in.”

Law tightened his grip further. “You really think Doflamingo would let his favorite subordinate be locked up in Impel Down?”

“Even Warlords don’t have the power to stop something like that,” Smoker replied with a frown.

Law shook his head. “He has more connections than that, White Chase-ya.” If Vergo left Punk Hazard alive, Law and his crew were assured slow, agonizing deaths. If Law killed Vergo now, there was still a chance this could be salvaged.

Vergo huffed a strained laugh around his cries. “He’s. Right. Smoker-kun. You. Have. No idea. Who. You’re. Dealing with.”

Smoker looked between the two pirates and shook his head but said nothing. Law continued squeezing the heart, waiting to feel something after all this time.

“What’s wrong, Law?” Vergo panted. “Don’t have. The stones. To finish it?”

“Hardly.”

Law closed his fist completely, crushing the heart until Vergo let out a final bloody gasp then went limp.

Still feeling that odd emptiness, he opened his hand dropped the still heart next to the corpse.

“That was for Cora-san.”

Next chapter

#I've had this plotted out for a while #but was struggling to get it on the page #I really like how it turned out though #Trafalgar Law #Vergo #Smoker #One Piece #One Piece fanfic #One Piece fanfiction #Caitlin's fic

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an-absolute-travesty · 4 years

Text

Royal Screw-Ups

If you’re looking for the rest of the story, it can be found on my wattpad @ohwowhatethis, under the tags “kotlc fic” and “keefex” on my blog, or under the cut on my pinned post

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added or removed, just for this story or as a whole):@you-are-the-vacker-legacy @ruewen-and-rising @lemontarto @a-lonely-tatertot @clearlykeefitz @percabetn {btw I’m sorry you haven’t been getting tagged dude! I kept messing up your user because I can’t read I’m super sorry} @holesinmyfalseconfidence @vibing-in-the-void @sewersewersewercouch @everyonehasthoughts

Chapter 6:

Word count: 1,122

Warnings: descriptions of death, swearing, angsty boi

King?! Sixteen was too young to be king! He had always known his fate but he thought his father would be too power-hungry to give up the role. It wasn’t like he could just do whatever he wanted either, Cassius would still have all of his own councilors in power, it would be nearly impossible to get them out of it.

Keefe paced endlessly around his room.

Air, air, he needed air. It was too hot in here.

He couldn’t take the main door, that takes too long.

The window.

He shoved the window open and crept out to the ledge. He was on the second floor, but there were enough bricks sticking out of the side of the castle to use as a ladder.

He ran across the sprawling lawn, not caring if a guard saw him. He...he had to talk to someone. He had to find Dex.

~*~

Keefe banged at the door, not caring if he woke everyone up.

A man, who he could only assume was Dex’s father, opened it.

“Sir, can I talk to Dex please?”

He hesitated, looking back at his family. "Um...I mean...sure...I mean yes, your highness...er-"

“Thank you, sir.”

Dex walked out from behind the man and closed the door behind him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His hair was ruffled and he looked both confused and tired.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, I heard that much.”

“C’mon, follow me.”

Keefe grabbed his hand and ran as he led him to the garden. He couldn’t tell if the anxiety he felt was coming from himself or Dex.

Despite not being particularly careful, no one stopped them so Keefe could only assume they had remained unseen.

Keefe wordlessly heaved himself onto the wall and put out a hand to Dex when he was situated. The red head immediately grasped it, not hesitating at all. To be perfectly honest, it seemed like Dex would be completely capable of bringing himself up the wall, Keefe just...enjoyed helping him. And he brought up no complaints.

They hopped into the gardens, nailing the landing this time.

“I have something to show you.” Keefe said, walking down a path he rarely tread upon.

“Alright.” Dex seemed concerned but he followed without question.

At the end of the path sat a stone.

“Here lies former Queen Gisela Sencen

She died as she lived, fighting for what she believed in

Whether it be right or wrong.”

They both stared at it for a good while before Keefe spoke up.

“They made me write the headstone you know. My father was supposed to do it but he was too busy. He was too busy to write his own wife’s damn headstone.”

Dex didn’t say anything, an invite to continue.

Keefe sat down on the ground beside the grave, Dex joined him.

Keefe’s eyes began to water in anger.

“What kind of selfish bastard can’t even write his own wife’s headstone? She was an awful person! She betrayed everyone! But he didn’t even have the decency to not make his eight year old son write her headstone.”

The tears poured now and he buried his face in his hands.

Dex laid a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“She- she was awful. I don’t know why I miss her. She betrayed the whole country and she was killed for it.”

The entire kingdom watched his mother get hanged for her treasonous schemes with the Neverseen. It was likely that even Dex watched, he would’ve been old enough by most people’s standards.

Dex seemed to think for a long moment.

“What was she like?”

Keefe hesitated.

“...she was always loud. Louder than my dad wanted her to be, but she was the one with the right to the throne so he had no choice but to put up with her.

“She was nicer to me than my dad was. Once my dad yelled at me because I said I never wanted to get married. She brought me a cake from the kitchen and told me that she never wanted to either. She hated the system, she just did the wrong things to get back at it. The really, really wrong things.

“She was...disgusting. She was a murderer. She was my mom. I miss her and I hate that I do. I hate that we’re so similar. I hate that one day I’m going to end up as angry as she was and I hate that I might get the same ending she did. I hate that I’m already on the same path that she was on. I’m getting stuck in a marriage at 16 with no say in the matter and a whole kingdom to rule and I just can’t handle it.”

He completely broke down.

Dex was silent for a moment before speaking.

“I can’t relate to what you’re going through...like at all. And I’ve never been very good with the whole emotional support thing. But it’s not too hard to go up from a murderer. I mean so far you’ve killed zero people that I know of so you’re already ahead.”

Keefe cracked a small smile.

“I know that you aren’t going to end up like her.”

“How can you tell?”

“You feel guilty about actions you haven’t even committed. She didn’t even feel remorse about what she did do.”

“Thank you, but…I’ll still be stuck as king in 4 months, and as a husband in 3. I almost can’t tell which one is worse.”

Dex chuckled.

“I think you’ll be a great king. You care about your people, I think you’ll be able to fix what’s wrong.”

“Even if I am some kind of great king, I’ll still be stuck with a wife I know next to nothing about.”

“...who would you rather be stuck with?”

Fuck it, it’s now or never.

“Well, there is this one person.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah they’re...amazing. They’re kind, and smart, and beautiful. Talking to them always makes my day better. I haven’t known them for long but they make me happier than any random wife could.”

“They sound pretty great.”

“Yeah, he is.”

They both went silent.

Keefe was expecting some sort of backlash, a ‘you’re disgusting!’ or ‘he?’. Instead, Dex carried on.

“Do you have a shot of being with him?”

“I hope so, but he’s probably way too good for me.” Keefe didn't know how how Dex didn’t seem to be noticing the pointed glances he was giving him.

“I doubt that.”

“How so?”

“Well, you’re pretty great. Plus, I mean, you are the prince so that’s probably an unfair advantage.”

Keefe laughed.

“Yes but I hope that that has no weight in his decision, I would never use my power to force someone to do something they didn’t want to.”

“And right there is another reason you won’t end up like your mother.”

Keefe smiled.

He believed him this time.

#woo ok its finally done #i actually really like this one so-#sorry it took so long to get out tho #kotlc fic #keefex #keefe sencen #dex dizznee #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities

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jeannereames · 3 years

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Hi, I'm curious about the incident with the Pages, what exactly happened with that? Was Alexander not exactly a "kid" person and the pages didn't really bond with him? It seems extreme for them to want him dead. I thought of Alexander as a people person who wanted to be liked. He seemed to care about his brother, even with his disability. Maybe that's just Renault's influence since her books portrayed Alexander as compassionate and empathetic. I think you'd provide a better take on it, thanks!

What happened with the Pages or, as Beth likes to refer to them (accurately) the King’s Youths* had nothing to do with Alexander’s feelings towards kids or even teenagers. It had to do with timē, or public honor. I’ve written before about the importance of timē in Macedonian politics, particularly with regard to Pausanias’s murder of Philip.

Before I go further, however, I want to point to an excellent article by senior Macedoniast Elizabeth D. Carney, “The Role of the Basilikoi Paides at the Macedonian Court,” in Macedonian Legacies, Howe and Reames, eds., (2008), 145-64** Beth doesn’t just write about Olympias and Macedonian Women. She frequently deals with Macedonian court politics, and that’s what this article addresses. The incident with the Pages is examined in detail, and she comes to somewhat different conclusions about the complexities of it than she did in her earlier “Regicide in Macedonia,” although the latter should be read by anyone wanting to understand why Pausanias killed Philip (see linked post above).

Much of what follows summarizes Beth’s article, but read the whole thing as she explores a number of intriguing issues surrounding the Pages. (Beth is a good writer, clear, unlike some.)

Back to timē. One of the (many) jobs of the King’s Youths involved attending the king on hunts.

Also, a critical ritual that marked the movement from boyhood to manhood in Macedonian society was a hunt wherein the boy was expected to spear a boar (very dangerous prey) without nets (to hold it). If you read Dancing with the Lion: Becoming, Alexander undergoes that very ritual in chapter 3.

Anyway, most Macedonians would have undergone this rite-of-passage in their mid/late teens, possibly early 20s. Much is made of the fact Kassandros hadn’t, even though he was in his 30s. It was seen as a lack of courage (and thus manliness: andreia).

Furthermore, there was a Persian tradition that nobody in the royal hunting party could strike at an animal until the king had. To anticipate the king was a serious affront. Persians were all about rank and status.

Macedonians didn’t really have rules, per se, but something similar seems to have been assumed (unless the king intended somebody else to be chief hunter). In Macedonian hunts, competition was very much the name of the game, and “helping” the king wasn’t appreciated. Lysimachos found that out the hard way. That Krateros had the gall not just to save Alexander from a lion, but commemorate it in an ex-voto, is notable, although it was actually Krateros’s son who commissioned the statue group (c. 320 BCE) memorializing his father’s bravery … after both his father and Alexander were dead. By choosing that event of many in his father’s career, what do you think is the message sent? Not just his father’s ties to Megalexandros, but that Alexander wouldn’t be Alexander without Krateros. Perhaps it was his son’s way to hit back at Alexander’s own elevation of Hephaistion (his dad’s chief rival) to semi-divine status as a hero.

Another bit of background, Alexander had been trucking around Asia for about six years by the time this occurred. He was getting reinforcements for troops, but it’s not clear he was getting other reinforcements: e.g., new Basilikoi Paides. Hatzopoulos has theorized not, or if he did, it was early in the campaign, when he sent back Koinos and Meleager along with the newlyweds to Macedonia for a “break” in the winter of 334/3, to make new little Macedonians. They returned with reinforcements. So, maybe we can shave off a year. Still, and assuming Hammond is right that boys were King’s Youths only between about 14 and 18, these “boys” were getting a bit long in the tooth, even the youngest being past the 4-year appointment.

A lot of focus is spent on the conspiracy, Kallisthenes as their stoic-ish teacher, and fluffed up speeches (written by Curitus) about freedom and tyranny… It comes off very Romanized. I won’t go into Kallisthenes, but he reminds me a bit of some US Senators (Ben Sasse): a lot of hot air about principles while kissing ass with his votes. In Kallisthenes’s case, kissing ass with his glowing, propagandic history written for the Greeks. Even his own uncle (Aristotle) thought he didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. (Yeah…don’t think much of the guy; can you tell?)

What people have forgotten about—but Beth discusses—is the lead up to the conspiracy. What prompted it?

A hunt gone wrong prompted it. Hermolaos stepped between the king and his quarry, to spear the boar for himself. One source says he did it because he thought the king in trouble, but the other doesn’t give that as a motivation.

A-ha! Did you just say that in your head? You should have. 😊

The fallout: a furious Alexander had Hermolaos not only flogged, but also took away his horse. (Kinda like Dad taking the keys to your car.)

Now, flogging wasn’t that shocking (horrible as it sounds) in Greek and Macedonian society. “Spare the rod and spoil the child” is a saying they’d condone. Normally it was reserved for slaves and children (and women). The King’s Youths were a little old for it but…it’s the king. Curtius specifically states that the Basilikoi Paides performed jobs that were normally slaves’ duty, but being for the king, it became an honor. Plus most of these teens would age out c. 18 into another unit, probably the Hypaspists (Pezhetairoi under Philip) or the Companion Cavalry.

But—if Hatzopoulos is right—these young men may have been some years past 18, which would make a flogging especially humiliating. Even if they weren’t, and Alexander had been getting new Basilikoi Paides post-Gaugamela as well as new troops, Hermolaos was still a touchy teen punished like a “little boy” or a slave for just trying to spear his boar and be a man!

In punishing Hermolaos for insulting Alexander’s timē, Alexander, in turn, insulted his. Alexander no doubt saw it as a breach of discipline and decorum, as well as a slap at his own courage and prowess in the hunt. But to Hermolaos, it was, as Beth points out, “emasculating.”

Keep in mind: these are young men, even if late teens/early twenties. Everything’s a crisis. They’re also the sons of the top tier Macedonian elite, so very tetchy about their honor. And the Basilikoi Paides would have been an absolute stew of competition and testosterone poisoning.

I can just imagine a background to this of his mates teasing him, “When ya gonna get your boar, Hermolaos?” “You too much of a white-belly to face down a boar, Hermolaos?” Etc. Maybe he really did think, for a moment, Alexander was in danger AND this would be his chance! He could protect his king (his job as a Page) AND win his manhood! Two birds with one spear!

Except it didn’t turn out like that.

Smarting from more than the flogging, he would have complained to his friends in the unit, and griping grew legs and became a conspiracy. As Beth points out, they may even have heard fathers and uncles complaining about Alexander’s “Persianizing,” but they only complained. The boys, spurred by youth and Kallisthenes’s attempts to cover his ass-kissing with a pretense of philosophy, imagined themselves—especially Hermolaos and his lover Sostratos—as the new Harmodaios and Aristogeiton. (And yeah, I bet some clever soul pointed out the similarities between Hermolaos’s name and Harmadaios’s.)

So what is usually seen as an event all about Alexander’s increasing Persianizing and tyranny really gives us a peek into the pressure cooker that was Elite Life at the Macedonian court. Now you understand why I keep comparing these guys to a pack of sharks.

More on the Pages, Companions, Somatophylakes at the court....

------------------

(**) The link above takes you to academia-edu where you can obtain a free download not only of that article, but the entire festschrift in honor of Gene. Tim (Howe) and I have made it free in PDF form and very cheap in paper form at Amazon. It’s basically sold at printing cost and a few pennies. All proceeds from paper copies go to the subvention fund of the Association of Ancient Historians, which provides financial assistance to grad students and junior scholars to attend annual meetings. Tim and I get nothing. (You will also help us shaft the dirty dog who bought Regina from its original owner and shafted us by printing and selling copies but giving us no royalties [like we got much anyway]. Academic karma.)

(*) While Beth’s translation of “King’s Youths” is more accurate, I decided not to use it in Dancing with the Lion because it falls awkwardly on the ear, and most people familiar with the court are already familiar with the Pages. That said, I agree with her that “pages” is misleading, causing most to envision pre-pubescent boys after the medieval fashion, whereas these guys are closer to squires.

#Royal Pages #Basilikoi Paides #Pages' Conspiracy #Hermalaos's Conspiracy #Hermalaos #Sostratos #Alexander the Great #Elizabeth Carney #Classics #ancient macedonia #Ancient Greece #Macedonian court #asks #Macedonian Royal Pages #Kallisthenes #Callisthenes #Krateros #Craterus

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