#once I see more combat I wanna figure out if there’s any significant changes to cal forms in survivor
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Deep diving into what lightsaber forms Cal uses is so fun omg. (Note: this is going to be focusing onJedi: Fallen Order.)
Form I, Shii-Cho, is basically a given as it’s the form that’s first taught in the temple. Given how old it is, it the form that most resembles traditional sword fighting. However, because of the nature of a lightsaber being y’know a lightsaber, it also incorporates sweeping attacks for dealing with multiple opponents. Shii-Cho focuses on disarming your opponents rather than killing them.
Obviously, Cal does kill all the opponents he comes across, but he does use Shii-Cho, I think specifically in some of the more crowd-control moves and deflecting blasters.
The other form Cal uses is Form VI, Niman. The opening stances look like the stance he uses when Trilla confronts him on Bracca and the stance he uses with the Ninth Sister. Niman is something of a hybrid form and draws elements from Forms I, III, IV, and V (excluding II). It avoids the various weaknesses of the other forms but also doesn’t have their strengths.
Niman is known as “the diplomat’s form” or “the moderation form.” Of all the forms, it focuses the least on bladework. It’s generally the form of Jedi who want to focus on other areas, such as diplomacy, hence the name. To counteract the lack of focused bladework, Niman incorporates Force-based attacks. From my knowledge, it’s the only form to use explicit Force attacks, such as Push and Pull, rather than just augmenting the form with the Force. Because of this and because it draws on other forms, Niman leaves room for the user’s creativity and adaptability in combat.
Cal uses the Force a lot in combat (Push, Pull, and Slow). And it makes sense for Cal to use the “jack of all trades” form considering how his formal training was, uh, cut short. And, game-wise, it the best form for Cal to use because it offers so much room for the player to develop their own combat preferences.
(Fun fact: most practicers of Niman use a double-bladed lightsaber, meaning this is likely the form Jaro Tapal used.)
(Another fun fact: Cal can unlock the double-bladed lightsaber on Dathomir. Niman is also called “the way of the rancor” and rancors are native to Dathomir. Additionally, Dathomir is where Cal uses the most diplomacy, in regards to Merrin and Malicos. To varying success.)
But! Niman doesn’t include Form II, Makashi, and seems like Cal uses it. His dodges and blocking (and parrying, if you time it right) look like the defensive moves of Makashi. Makashi was designed for one-on-one combat against another lightsaber user and focuses on creating an opening to attack and then attacking quickly and precisely. Cal doesn’t really use the offensive moves of Makashi, but he does use the defensive moves.
Of course, once Cal unlocks dual-wielding, he also uses Jar’Kai, which is a form utilizing two weapons.
So! Cal mostly uses Form I and VI in Fallen Order with some defensive moves from Form II and Jar’Kai for dual-wielding.
#if any of this is wrong please be gentle with me I just went of a lightsaber form binge and I’m still figuring it all out#also legends makes form vi so confusing please agree on what it is#star wars#cal kestis#jedi fallen order#once I see more combat I wanna figure out if there’s any significant changes to cal forms in survivor#form vi seems like a given but I wonder if he uses any of the more aggressive forms#JEDI SURVIVOR SPOILERS IN THE NEXT TAGS#really wanna see what form(s) cere uses and see if there’s any influence of them in cal’s forms#and I figure his rampage will be a lot of juyo
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Storyteller advice: Combat and Movement
So you want to run a combat scene.
You’ve (probably) played other tabletop games and had a good time bludgeoning weird creatures to death. You’ve likely played VtMB and enjoyed the basic gunplay or even the janky melee combat. So you, as the young, naive storyteller crack open your (pre-V5) rule book and suddenly your head explodes with a migraine.
This is because the rules are scattered, the initiative system is crazy complicated, and there are a dozen maneuvers for melee and ranged combat. If you’re a veteran of tabletop games, you may look at some of the melee combat maneuvers and have some questions like “can people attack when grappling?” or “how does someone shoot a gun multiple times in one round?”
Well no worries, because I’m going to explain the combat system to you, why it is bad, and recommend some tweaks.
Combat by the numbers
Everyone involved in combat rolls 1d10+Dexterity+Wits to determine their initiative.
Starting from LOWEST initiative, each character declares what action they will take. You may ready an action to go off when another action occurs, such as dodging an attack.
Characters may move a distant of half of 20 + (dexterity x 3) yards in a turn and still attack.
Each character rolls their Dice Pools (Strength/Dexterity/Manipulation + Whatever) for their action.
If you’re making an attack, you roll Dexterity + Melee/Brawl/Firearms. If you’re doing a melee maneuver, you’re rolling Strength+Brawl generally. These are generally at difficulty 6, which means that a success occurs when your ten sided dice rolls a 6 or higher.
If you’re doing multiple actions you must split your dice pool. In Vampire 20th anniversary edition, this means you take the lowest dice pool of all your actions, and allocate dice to each action. For example, if you’re driving a car and shooting out a window, and your DEX+drive is 6, but your DEX+firearms is 4, you divide your 4 dice between driving and shooting.
If you hit, you roll damage. For melee, roll strength + your additional successes on the attack roll (you only need one success to hit). For guns, add their damage value + additional successes. Maneuvers may or may not do damage but will use the same pool as melee attacks if they do. Some damage may only allow you to roll your Fortitude. This is all at difficulty 6.
If you are hit, you roll to soak the damage. Roll your Stamina + Fortitude (if you have it).
Actions are resolved from the HIGHEST initiative order to the lowest, but all actions occur simultaneously.
Additional Celerity actions occur here.
Storyteller describes what happens dramatically.
The turn ends. Return to step 1.
Why this is a terrible system and you should never use it
There are THREE ROLLS involved for one person taking ONE mundane action. If you’re part of a 5 person group, that is a minimum of 15 rolls before you account for any opposition.
There are too many steps for one turn of combat. This can lead to an entire session being 2 or 3 turns of combat. Boring.
Damage is horribly inconsistent. If you roll a good attack roll, you could roll a terrible damage roll and not do anything. If you roll a good on attack and damage, it can be more damage than even an Elder can soak.
Initiative makes NO sense. The developers seemingly intended for players who did well on their initiative to have foreknowledge of the actions happening around them, but the ability to interfere with other actions is limited. If you go to tackle the guy trying to punch your dainty Toreador friend, he still gets to punch them since actions occur simultaneously.
It is unclear how disciplines can or cannot affect combat. For example, Dread Gaze reduces dice pools, but does it affect the dice pools of the goon shooting at your friend the turn you activate it? Does Shroud of Night increase the difficulty to hit if you’re higher in initiative than your attacker?
A variety of modifiers can change dicepools. Disciplines, firearm maneuvers, melee maneuvers, injuries, and circumstances can add or subtract dice. This can be very difficult to track in addition to figuring out WHEN each addition or subtraction applies.
Soaking is horribly inconsistent. I have been in games were Gangrels high in fortitude and stamina have gotten thrashed due to bad rolls. This more than anything makes players upset because they can never be sure if their “tanky” character is going to be put into Torpor from a bad roll.
Once you’re injured, you’re done. Injury reduces your dice pools, how fast you can move, and how many actions you can take. By default, you can heal only as much blood as you can spend in a round and cannot take any other action while doing so. Rules as written seem to imply injury penalties apply to soak dice as well.
Movement is both too complicated and too lenient. Even a character with 2 dice in dexterity can move 13 yards (39 feet/~12 meters) and attack someone. There is no tactical movement since every character can zip around all but the largest battle maps (If you use that). Injury reduces movement drastically, eventually giving slow static move speeds.
Splitting actions is a mess and never works out well. The game seems to assume everyone will split their dice pools and that’ll somehow balance the game since everyone is trying to dodge and attack. In practice, it’s best to roll your full dice pool on attack and overwhelm the person’s dodge. Celerity where you get either additional dexterity dice or actions, and you completely breaks the combat system by allowing multiple actions at full dice pools.
Recommendations for a more fun and dynamic combat
You do not have to take my ideas as gospel. Take what works for you and your friends, leave what doesn’t.
SOAK LEVELS: A vampire has a static soak rating of their Stamina + Fortitude and an aggravated soak rating of their fortitude. If damage is under half this rating, they take no damage. If it is over half they take 1 damage. If it is over their rating, they take the difference+1 in damage. This makes vampires reliably tough and eliminates an unneeded roll.
ENVIROMENTAL DAMAGE. The only time you should roll soak dice is when damage comes from an irregular source such as sunlight, fire, falling, or the rare electrocution.
TAKE THE INITIATIVE. Initiative is 1d6 added to your static rating in Dexterity and Wits. This makes initiative less swingy and eliminates ambiguity.
MY TURN ON THE TURN ORDER. The first turn in combat, characters declare their actions from LOWEST to highest. Then actions resolve from HIGHEST to lowest. You roll for the action on your turn and any effects are immediately applied. After this first turn, it goes dungeons and dragons style. Highest to lowest, effects immediately occur. Do not re roll initiative.
THROW OUT MOVEMENT. I personally do dramatic movement, where there are no set movement speeds and players move as the drama of the scene allows. Getting shot from a distance? Gonna take a turn or two to get there. See your friend getting beaten through a window? You can jump through the window and risk damage or take a turn to enter the house. Find what works for you and your trope.
LET THEM DEFEND. If a character doesn’t move, allow them the chance to dodge or block if circumstances allow.
INJURIES FOR DRAMA. Don’t religiously observe injury penalties. These should only kick in during significant fights and should be fairly applied. Injuries should never affect soak ratings
WE JUST WANNA SURVIVE. If someone wants to take an action while healing, default rules require a stamina and survival check. Ignore this. Use Willpower instead. Every Vampire has some dots in this, and it allows your thaumaturge some hope once he is hurt.
SPLIT THE DIFFERENCE. To take multiple actions, increase the difficulty of each subsequent action by 1 and reduce the dice pool of each action by the total number of actions being taken. If the dicepool is 0 or less, they cannot take that action. For example, if a character tries to jump a wall, trip a bad guy, and shoot him while he is down, the first action is Dexterity+Athletics-3 at difficulty 6. The second is Strength+Brawl-3 at difficulty 7. The third is Dexterity+Firearms-1 (+2 for shooting at someone prone) at difficulty 8.
GRAPPLING WITH MORALITY. Grapple and hold are two separate actions but have ill defined effects. Hold says they cannot attack and can only try to break the hold, but grapple doesn’t mention that but talks about it doing damage every turn. My recommendation is when you are grappling, whoever rolls higher on a Strength+Brawl does damage to the other and neither person can attack another target until they both stop grappling. Hold restrains a person until they break out, but neither the holder nor the person can take any physical action besides trying to escape
TAKE A BITE. Normally you can bite someone after tackling, grappling, or holding a person. This makes strength builds very one sided, where each turn they’re going to try to tackle and then do a Strength Aggravated damage bite. This is only worse if they also have Celerity and can bite entire rooms to death. Instead, only allow bites after a Hold is established, then another roll to Pin. This at least allows the person being held to escape. Instead a Kiss can be done during a grapple or tackle to drain blood.
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I can’t get this idea out of my head and I was going to write it myself but I love your writing so much and your characterisation... what about Billy (after a couple of months or maybe a year of being adopted by Hop) getting the date he was adopted as a tattoo?? Because the date is the most important date to him (his&steves anniversary is a close second) and he wants to honour it
You’re such an absolute sweetheart, goodness gracious!!! ♥ thank you so much dear. i’m so sorry this took so long to get to, but i’m here now! And this idea is sO DAMN CUTE!!!
I’m just imagining Billy going out w/o planning it bc he really has to psych himself up about it, y’know?? Like… he’s been thinking about this for a long time. He had the thought about a month into living w/ Hop when he woke up late and trudged over to the table to find a plate w/ a couple of pieces of toast and his favorite raspberry jam along with a hot cup of coffee that looked a lot more like creamer.
“Have a good day, kid.” Hop had said with a pat on Billy’s head before he left for work.
It was just… small. Simple. Really nothing if he were to tell anyone. But… it made Billy feel so at home. Sitting across from El who was finishing off an Eggo silently before looking up at Billy and smiling at him. It made Billy realize he really did have a home. He had found it. And it was this.
And the day that he got adopted was kind of stressful. He was terrified that Neil was going to come after him for some sick reason. So fucking scared that he was going to catch him outside of the court house and hurt him. Nervous that he was putting a target on his back for doing this. He had refused Hop’s name because he didn’t wanna give Neil another reason to be pissed at him.
It was just such a difficult situation. So intensely worrying that Billy tried to shy away from it as much as he could. But...
But it was the day his new life started. And thinking about it always feels so dramatic and stupid to him but he can’t think of anything else but that, sometimes. He went from being scared every damn day of his life to being able to smile and laugh and joke around. Getting and receiving hugs almost every day. Making dinner with a man he’s able to call dad without feeling something sick in his throat over it.
It’s just… that day changed everything. It clicked him into the right place.
And now it’s been a year and Billy hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He’s known for so long that he wanted to get this done but could never get himself to get up and do it. It always felt like the wrong time, or like he didn’t have any kind of valid reasoning or some bullshit. But he was up almost all night thinking about it and now it’s been a whole year since he was adopted and he just feels it. He needs to, he knows he does.
So Billy wakes up that morning, goes about his breakfast routine, and then gets in his car and drives. Goes out to the same tattoo parlor that he got his skull tattoo at bc the guy was cool and gave him a discount bc he liked his mullet and his car. It’s a few towns over bc Hawkins is a good, small town w/ no seedy places like a tattoo shop.
So Billy asks for the tattoo. Gets it on his forearm and gets a little dizzy with how sentimental it feels. The tattoo guy asks about the significance as Billy’s paying, but Billy can’t bring himself to say anything so he just kind of… grunts. The tattoo guy gives a disarming smile along with a chuckle that makes Billy walk out of the store as soon as he can. He gives a nod to the artist so he doesn’t look like a complete asshole.
And once Billy is in his car again, he’s breathing hard. The tattoo feels like it’s burning his skin, like it’s made of fire, just because it’s so sentimental. it‘s so significant and it’s there on his body forever and he just paid to make that happen bc he’s sentimental. Bc he can’t think of another date that means more to him (maybe the day he first kissed Steve… hell maybe the day he first looked at Steve… but that’s a different story)
His heart is racing and his leg is bouncing and his arm is shaking the whole drive home. It’s been a year. A whole year. The best damn year of his life and now he has something permanent so he can honor it. He’s overjoyed.
But once he gets back to the cabin, Hop doesn’t seem to feel the same.
“Where have you been?”
His arms are crossed, eyebrows low over narrowed eyes. It doesn’t strike the same kind of fear in Billy that it used to, but it does make him feel some sort of regret. He doesn’t even know what he should feel sorry for, but he kind of absolutely hates making Hop look at him like this.
“Out. I had something I wanted to do.”
“Right. Well El and I were looking forward to going out to lunch with you today.”
Billy’s heart drops. He feels a desperate need to go up in arms about it, to combat the hurt in his chest.
“Well no one told me that.”
“Yeah well… we didn’t really think you’d go running out like that today. It’s kind of… kind of a big day.”
Billy nods, doing his damned best not to fidget. His tattoo is burning with sentiment. Billy thinks Hop might be able to see how tense he is, bc Hop gives him a caring look. He’s always giving him caring looks. Like he’s his son that just tripped over the front steps.
“Don’t stress over it though, son. We were thinking of going to ice cream later once she gets back from hanging out with her friends.”
Billy nods and Hop watches Billy walk over to the kitchen. He’s leaning on the back of the sofa with his arms still crossed.
“So.” Hop starts. “You got a tattoo?”
Billy freezes for a second before continuing to reach for a clean glass in the cabinet.
“How do you know that?”
“Officer Powell told me he saw you headed that way.”
“Damn, do you pigs ever not gossip with each other? Holy shit.” Billy cusses with a slam of the orange juice carton onto the counter.
Hop gives him a look. “He was visiting some family out there. What’d you get a tattoo of?”
Billy’s heart is racing. “Nothing important.” He mumbles to try to counteract the gnawing on his arm.
“Really? You paid someone to put something that’s not important onto your body permanently?”
Billy growls at how much of a smartass Hop is being. He’s always being a smartass. It’s fun when Billy’s not totally nervous about being so mushy. He can feel it all start to bubble out. He’s so damn nervous.
“Yup.” He pops the last sound out of his mouth, but his whole act is so unconvincing Billy can almost feel it sliding off of him.
“Seriously, kid, what’d you get?”
“I just-”
“Because you know how I feel about tattoos.”
“It’s not that important-”
“Just trying to figure out if it’s something as weird as that skull on your arm.”
“It’s not weird-”
“Alright it’s a little cooler than weird, but still. What’d you get that’s not important-?”
“It’s today’s date.” It bubbles out of Billy before he can put a stop to it. Before he can hold the words down. He looks up from his orange juice to see Hop’s eyes get wider.
“I… seriously?”
Billy rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, don’t get too sappy about it.” Billy says like his heart isn’t in his throat right now.
“You got today’s date… because?”
Billy twists his mouth up. “Don’t make me say it.”
Hop lets out a little chuckle. It sounds involuntary.
“No no, I wanna hear why you’d get a date that ‘not that important’ on your arm.” He’s chuckling even more now. Billy’s fingers are tapping on the counter w/ nervous agitation.
“Because… because… you know why!”
Hop shakes his head with an annoying smile. “Nope, don’t think I do. I’m at a loss.”
“Because this was the best damn day of my life, alright? You know that.” Billy feels it all heave out of his throat like vomit, but just like vomit once it’s out, he feels so much better. all that pressure gone. He feels like now that he’s admitted it, he should fear it’ll slip away from him, but he doesn’t feel that way. It feels like now that he’s admitted it, now that it’s written on his skin, it’s solidified. No one can take it away from him. Even if things turn to shit, he still has the memory of this past year there on his arm and he’s just... he’s comfortable. Yes, he’s a sentimental sap, and he’ll knock the lights out of anyone who calls him that, probably, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t one. He’s glad he can be a sentimental sap now without fear.
He looks into Hop’s eyes and sees a wide smile.
Billy rolls his eyes again, mumbling a “shut up” for good measure, even though Hop hasn’t said anything.
Billy tries to get past Hop, pretending he needs to grab something when really he just doesn’t wanna see Hop’s face anymore, but the man catches him in a hug before he can get past.
It’s warm and encompassing and Billy is so immediately comfortable that it still fascinates him.
“I love you son.” Hop mumbles, chest rumbling with the words. Billy feels it in his heart.
“Yeah yeah.” Billy says from where his face is half pressed into Hop’s chest. “Love you too, dad.”
#billy hargrove#chief jim hopper#stranger things#ask#giraffewrites#billy hopper#billy gets adopted#hopper is a dad#and he's!! cryin!!!!#his son has the date of his adoption tattooed on his arm ohmydearrrrr!!!!!!#i!!!!!#loved!!!!!#this!!!!!!!!#i wanted to write it as a formal fic and then i didn't woops. >M<#i'm sorry honey#i might still try to write it as a formal fic#also if you also end up writing something w/ this PLEASE let me know!!!!#bc it's such a cute idea and i could read about this stuff all day long!!!#♥#augh!#thanks soso much for the ask#fluff
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endgame
requested: nope
warnings: drinking, heartbreak, extreme self doubt, language
pairings: calum hood x reader
type: angst ; actual body writing (my rat brain doesn’t know what to officially call it) ; 1.9k words ; gender neutral
summary: rejecting calum wasn’t planned, or wanted. was it for the best?
a/n: hi! i felt like breaking hearts on this good day. was looking for a header earlier, and seen lyrics from halsey’s ‘sorry’ and thought it’d be a wonderful song to write about in a sense.
also gonna try and actually write, not just a hc list this time. hope it’s good! didn’t necessarily proof read it out of fear of hating it so sorry if there are any misspellings or anything.
let me know how you feel about it!
it’d been a couple of months since you moved to california, and things were going pretty nicely. you got back into college, and were excelling. your job was sable, and rather flexible with your schedule and requests for time off. that was great, considering calum was finally back from visiting his family australia.
you had met calum while moving in, considering your apartment was in the same complex as ashton’s (where he was heading). he and ashton helped you move in, as you and a couple of friends who came along to help were struggling on the sidewalk with your hand-me-down couch.
the next day, calum came knocking at your door to see if you were settled alright. you were in the middle of unpacking dishes, and he asked if he could help you. you agreed, cause, why not have a cute australian boy help you move in? he just never left after that; even though he told ashton he’d get to his place soon.
the days have went on, and as cliche as it sounds, you both bonded and eventually had designated cups at each others houses (his is a meme mug that you bought that says “happiness is friends fishing together”, yours is a game of thrones cup with a sword as the handle), matching blankets (that were picked up on a late night target run; his says “mrs” and yours says “mr”), and swapped a pillow each, so you’d be comfortable sleeping.
things were going pretty well, to say the least. only thing that scared you, was rejection. did you like calum? yes, a little too much, but you told yourself several times that it wasn’t love. since it’s convenient to find out about him online, you decided to see if you were his type. seems as though you weren’t, from the girls he was rumored to date at least.
considering this, you called your best friend from your hometown, and explained everything going on. their only advice, was that you needed to talk to calum; they couldn’t tell if calum liked you, or was just being friendly. feeling nervous and hesitant, you invited him over for the chat.
like most of the times when you have a crush, you sat and debated on whether or not you were up for heartbreak. you had never really felt heartbreak, because no one had ever returned your interest for a significant amount of time. so, you didn’t know how to proceed. do you risk telling calum, and getting nothing in return and live your life alone? do you tell him and get a healthy relationship that you’ve convinced yourself would never be endgame?
when calum finally arrived at your apartment, you had cried all you could thinking about every way he could reject you, or how it would end. at this point, you were happy you didn’t have to go through anything that could blindside you.
after catching up, calum brought up the idea of the party, “so, me ‘nd ash were thinking about having a get together with all our friends now that we’re back. to like, catch up with everyone. you wanna come?”
“who all will be there,” you questioned, setting your cup of koolaid down.
“the guys, their girls, some friends.”
“very extensive list, thank you calum,” you joked, raising your eyebrows to signal so. it was nice, feeling comfortable after hours of terror sweats.
he let out a breathy laugh, “sorry, i really only know for certain about eight people. maybe more, maybe like one less.” he sat his fishing cup down, and looked up for your reaction.
you shrugged, thinking more about ‘their girls’ and ‘friends’ and which one you were categorized as, “when?”
he noticed your expression change, “uh, i think this friday but i’ll have to make sure.”
you nodded, “okay, i should be free.”
there was a small silence before calum cleared his throat and stood up, “well i should uh, prolly get going. supposed to meet ‘shton in a bit for dinner.”
you stood up and followed him to the door, “alright, have fun?”
calum turned when you ended your sentence with a question, and shadowed the doorway, “you good?”
you nodded again, tempting yourself to blurt out your thoughts but your fear took you over, “yeah, why?”
“you just,” he looked down at the tips of his shoes, moving them in an anxious manner, “seem, different? i don’t know, like you seem like somethings on your mind.”
“oh, nah,” there was, “just a bit tired,” a lie.
calum nodded, and stepped outside, “alright. i’ll let you know when everything will be set up, okay?”
“alright.”
“call you this evening?”
you nodded one last time and watched him disappear down the hall after your confirmation. after shutting and locking your door, you texted your friend and told her you chickened out, but were going to try and speak to him after the party.
wonderful. two more days of restless thinking, unbelievable amounts of notes written in your phone, and hours of staring into space just thinking of what could go wrong. calum calling didn’t help, either. he sounded more sweet, and soft than usual. or did he always sound like that? did he know about you maybe liking him and was trying to find ways of letting you down easily and this was step one?
ugh. the thought of it all made you sick. literally. friday came around, and you really had made yourself sick with worry. you wanted to get it over with, though. combating sickness AND heartbreak at the same time? undefeated combination. that being said, you didn’t bail. instead, you just showed up in sweats and a beat up old shirt.
no one was really dressed up, which was good for confidence measures, but horrible in the sense that you didn’t scream “i have a cold please don’t get infected”.
calum, however, thought you looked cute. like in a fanfic where you have your hair in a messy bun have on an old shirt that’s baggy but somehow shows off your figure sweats built the same way and you’re about to be sold to 5sos to pay off your parents debt. not that he said all that in one sentence, though.
throughout the evening, you noticed calum getting closer and closer to you, practically sitting on your lap after an hour. you didn’t mind all too much, but it was still strange to experience after all you’ve thought about. he seemed a bit, distant, though. he didn’t speak directly to you like he usually did, no hand on your thigh to push himself up, didn’t laugh at the same joke luke told whenever he popped a cap off of a bottle. something just didn’t, feel good.
after feeling a little dry and all too conscious, you decided to go into the kitchen and take a few shots; seeing as ashton and calum had migrated in there a couple of minutes ago. but, right when you get to the archway, you faintly hear the end of ashton’s sentence, “gonna do?”
calum’s voice came in after his, “i guess i’m just gonna have to tell y/n.”
that’s it. he knows. your heart rate shot up in mere seconds, and the tears made your eyes swell. you quickly turned and headed towards the bathroom, locking yourself in to cry a little bit. you couldn’t believe for a split second that you REALLY thought you were gonna have something. how could you be so gullible? the signs were all there. he was suiting you up to drop you from cloud nine. all the late night calls talking about life made him sick of you and he decided you weren’t the one for him. after that he noticed how much you liked him via the matching things, and it made him sick of you. he was sick of you. Sick. Of. You, and everything that you are to him.
you decided this wasn’t a reunion get together, this was a ‘goodbye y/n’ party. that’s why everyone was exceptionally inviting to you, because they knew you weren’t going to be around much longer, and they wouldn’t have to put up with you after this. if that’s the case, why not go out in style: drunk and pitiful.
you came out of the bathroom after several minutes of breathing in through your nose to stop the tears, and regain your composure. you head straight to the kitchen, nod to calum, ashton, and now sierra before pouring and downing a shot without saying a word. ashton laughs and cheers you on, as he’s never seen you do this before and thought it was a wave of encouragement. calum knows somethings wrong, but he doesn’t want to out you in front of people you aren’t entirely close with.
unfortunately for him, he doesn’t get any alone time with you until you’re five shots and two mike’s hard lemonades in. in other words, you were comprehensive, but your filter was gone and your emotions were bold. calum puts his hand on your shoulder once everyone is out of the kitchen, and asks whats wrong, “i know somethings off with you, y/n. you’ve never drank like this before.”
“not. a. thaaang,” you gave finger guns to him and ‘blew out’ the tips of your fingers.
he halfway smiled, but quickly furrowed his eyebrows and gave a stern look, “i’m serious.”
you shrugged, “me too. you think i, me, am joking?” you pushed his hand off your shoulder and turned to get another shot, but calum stopped you.
“y/n,” he said with his hand on yours, preventing you from lifting the shot glass, “we don’t have to talk about it, but are you sure you’re alright?”
you stopped. his hand was on yours, and that’s how it needed to be. you were staring at your hands, and everything was clear for a minute. you sobered up enough to say, “i heard you.”
he lowered his head, both confused and hard of hearing, “what?”
tears started to form again, “i heard you and ‘shton.”
calum let out a solemn breath and removed his hand from yours, certain this was taking a turn for the worst, “when?”
your breathing had hitched as you tried to stop yourself from crying, “a few minutes ago.” before calum could speak, you began your subtle rant, “i get it. i know i’ve been clingy, and weird, and overbearing and ugly and everything else. i know you don’t like me calum. i’ve fucking known that from day one, and i’m sorry i’ve known it.”
you continued with nonsense babbling until you realized how long you had been talking. calmly, and with tear stained cheeks, you told him goodbye, and that you wished you could be friends.
as you left the apartment and party, calum was left stood in the spot that he would later refuse to go near. he had tears of his own streaming down his face. he recalled his and ashton’s conversation from earlier:
ashton: dude, you’re getting reaaally cozy with y/n.
calum: yeah, i know.
ashton: is there, something... there?
calum: i don’t really, like know? i like y/n so fucking much. borderline love, i guess.
ashton: jesus man. what are you gonna do?
calum: i guess i’m just gonna have to tell y/n.
all this time, calum was the exact opposite of what you kept imagining. he built up the courage to talk to you about his feelings that night. because after all, he thought you were his soulmate: beautiful, smart, humble, different and the same in a puzzle piece manner. he was sure you were his endgame.
so, now what?
#calum hood#calum hood x you#calum hood x reader#calum hood imagine#calum hood one shot#calum hood fic#calum hood blurb#calum hood angst#sprydecreates ch
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Why I Think the Fall of Beacon worked compared to the Battle of Haven
A long time ago, on a blog not so far away, I wrote a post during the Volume 5 hiatus about why I thought the Scuffle of Haven didn’t work on... well, any level, and in hindsight I stand by a lot of that post. I still believe that many of the points I raised against the Haven Battle remain valid to this day, though I could have expressed my points more efficiently, and as a consequence, I’ll be wary of any big conflicts once RWBY reaches Atlas or Vacuo.
But one of the points I mentioned during that post was that I thought the Fall of Beacon was a far better example of not just a season finale, but the climax of an arc. I’ve talked before about why I feel Cinder’s plan in the Beacon volumes remains rather underrated, and while the first half has some... questionable... fights, Volume 3′s back half was a sign that the crew could make fights on par with Monty even after his passing, while the writing and technical work behind the scenes showed that when the crew were firing on all cylinders anything was possible.
So this week, I’d like to write about why I think the Fall of Beacon worked so well in Volume 3, alongside a few anecdotes about where in contrast, Haven falls flat.
1) It changed the tone and status quo, and put team RWBY into perspective
Up until Volume 3, RWBY played a lot of its tropes straight, especially when it came to the setting of the show. We got to meet the characters and see them interact in a collection of light adventures, eventually leading to the most classic of anime cliches, the tournament arc.
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Long-time anime fans know that nothing of any real importance for wider plots happens at tournament arcs, so people went into Volume 3 expecting some popcorn thriller action- some light, breezy and fun fights to wile away the time. And while the early half of Volume 3 had some... less than ideal fights with the exception of Mercury and Emerald vs Coco and Yatsuhashi (RIP to the SSSN fans who wanted Sage and Scarlet’s only fight to be good), a lot of the character dynamics allowed the viewer to still derive some enjoyment. Weiss and Winter’s dynamic in the early episodes is a delight to see, to say nothing of Qrow hanging out with Ruby and Yang. All of this changes as we reach Chapter 6, Fall, but I have a separate point about how Chapters 6-9 build up to the Fall magnificently so we’ll get back to the current point we’re on.
“I suppose at least my fights can’t get much worse from here on out?”
“Oh COME ON!”
Volume 3′s first half set up a rather casual tournament arc after two volumes of it being built up in the background, and until Yang fights Mercury, that attitude sticks around. It’s after this that the back half begins to build up towards a disaster in the making. To take a quote from Ozpin:
There's an energy in the air now. A question in the back of everyone's minds. If this is the size of our defenses, what is it we're expecting to fight?
After the Fall begins though? Nothing is quite so certain, and the status quo quickly falls to shreds as Beacon begins to fall. The show takes an immediately darker turn with only Roman’s jovial antics providing levity- and even that requires reaching to the gallows for humor. Soon everything the show and audience took for granted is kicked to the curb, as Grimm swarm the school that we had become accustomed to over the past two and a half prior volumes of antics. The breezy tone is completely gone, with Battle of Beacon having several scenes of the horror of the Fall in plain sight- my personal favorite is when Ozpin is watching Vale security feeds and he sees a rooftop with people on it, waving for help as a Grimm slowly climbs up the side. It’s almost harrowing in how much the image says. And that’s not even the worst of it, as the Battle stretches on and the heroes become more exhausted, everything begins to turn against them- first the initial wave of Grimm, then the White Fang, then the Atlas mechs turn on the Huntsmen and finally Kevin himself begins airdropping reinforcements. It’s a never ending stream of enemies and most of the Huntsmen can barely stand by chapter 12.
Perhaps the most drastic change that the Fall of Beacon episodes provide is how RWBY are put into perspective against the villains, starting with Mercury casually swatting Ruby aside like an irritating fly. He’s hardly even trying and he manages to distract Ruby long enough for Pyrrha to kill Penny, even managing to land a hit on Ruby while she’s speeding towards him with her Semblance- a feat no one else had managed beforehand. And even when Ruby slips through and gets outside in time just to watch Penny die...
You know what they say, if you love something, never do it for free.
After an entire volume of standout fights, from Coco and Yatsuhashi, to Yang, and even a full-fledged Maiden in Amber, Mercury was a constant standout fighting wise all volume and he earned the right to grin like a loon as he watched Ruby break down.
Similarly, Adam was a juggernaut when Blake ran across him, easily cutting her down to size and, when Yang came running, made short work of her too. Adam had already built a reputation as menacing from the Black Trailer, and Heroes and Monsters did its part in reaffirming that he was a dangerous foe who was not to be trifled with. He effortless dominates the “fight” and isn’t even winded by the time he has Blake and Yang dead for rights.
Even our mightiest heroes fare poorly against the villains- Cinder with the power of the Fall Maiden is able to effortlessly kill Ozpin and Pyrrha, stripping the heroes of their mentor figure and their most powerful fighter in one fall swoop. Were it not for Ruby’s Silver Eyes, Cinder likely would have gone on to clean house with the rest of the Huntsmen barring some insane luck.
Volume 3′s final quarter is a sudden, horrifying and effective tonal shift that properly conveys the horror of the events unfolding, all while showing in the wider narrative where our heroes fall compared to the villains- and in every instance, the heroes come up short, with even Ozpin and Pyrrha themselves dying at Cinder’s hand. It’s a bleak image to end the Volume on as Team RWBY scatter to the wind while the villains get away with their pride and dignity intact, firmly setting themselves up as RWBY’s superior in direct combat for their next confrontation-
I’m not bitter.
Meanwhile the only status quo change that Haven brings to the table is “RWBY are back together and get a lamp.” That’s it. That’s the big change from this volume, since the only casualties are a bunch of one-off characters that are introduced in the same volume they die in. Much of the narrative stakes die in the first half thanks to Weiss’s impalement and many of the villains lose the intimidating credibility than they earned through Volume 3. It’s a joke of a climax that brings nothing to the wider narrative of the show and has far less of an impact than the Fall of Beacon, barring how it utterly destroyed the threat factor of most of the villains there and required for Adam an entire trailer insisting that Adam wasn’t a complete joke, the effectiveness of which still has yet to be seen.
2) It feels significant and carries throughout multiple environments
One of the smarter choices made about the Fall of Beacon was that the characters are split up across multiple different arenas to help create the sense that this is a large-scale battle. Ruby, JNPR and many of the students start in the Amity Arena where Port and Oobleck stay behind, before heading down to Beacon’s courtyard to hold that area. There, they meet with Weiss, Blake and Yang, before the latter two go to the food hall for the Adam encounter. Ruby herself goes to the airships to help take back the skies leading to her battle with Torchwick. We have frequent scenes of Ozpin in his office until he comes down to begin the Aura transfer with Pyrrha in the Vault. Meanwhile, Qrow, Goodwitch and Ironwood take to Vale’s streets (Ironwood not willingly) and fight the Grimm there.
Your token reminder that Ruby vs Roman and Neo has some of the best teamwork in the entire show and it’s being done by the villains who weren’t part of the original plans for the series
Breaking that down to its core components, we have the courtyard, airship, arena, food hall and streets. CRWBY use a lot of recurring environments throughout the Fall of Beacon episodes- the deck of the airship for Ruby vs Roman and Neo and the landing zone where Ironwood fights the Alpha Beowolf are the only wholly original fight arenas made for these episodes, while the courtyard, Vault, and streets were all areas we had seen previously. Not only did this save on area budget, but it granted a sense of weight to the fights- we had seen these locations before, had scenes in them that gave them an emotional weight. Scattering the heroes across these different maps spreads the Battle out, making it easier for the crew to work on individual scenes since it lessened the risk of having people just standing around doing nothing, but it gave each character an individual chance to shine in their own arena of combat. Perhaps most obviously, the different locals gave us new arenas to enjoy as well instead of just “a room a plaza and a cave.” Ironwood may not have gotten his two small but glorious mo,ments against the Grimm and mechs if he was sharing an arena with everyone else.
Here comes the general
Ladies and gentlemen
Here comes the general
The moment you’ve been waiting for
Here comes the general
The pride of Atlas
Here comes the general
James IRONDADDY
... Meanwhile Haven just stuck everyone in a bland open room and had people standing around doing nothing for most of the Scuffle, if they weren’t teleporting around the room like ninjas.
Uh hi Mercury. You wanna... do something? Just gonna let them have their thing? OK? You do you buddy.
I don’t think there’s much more you can add to that.
3) The build up to the Fall is superb
As I’ve mentioned, while the first half of Volume 3 until Yang vs Mercury has some of the show’s weakest fights until Volume 5, the second half more than makes up for it on a fight level while also setting the stage for the devastating final string of episodes. Beginning of the End, PVP and Heroes and Monsters are all in my top 10 episodes for a reason, folks. Chapter 7 in particular finally gave the audience some much-needed background on Team CEM, as we saw Cinder recruit Emerald and Mercury in moments of weakness and plant the seeds for the Fall as she meets with Roman and Adam (while presumably getting the virus from Watts that allows her to initiate Order 66). Destiny lets us see the fallout of Yang vs Mercury, Jaune and Pyrrha’s last quiet moment together, and is the last calm before the storm as the episode ends with Penny about to fight Pyrrha and Mercury staring Ruby down. All the while, the sense of unease builds up each episode, starting relatively tame in the premiere before the dial gets nudged up a little each more every week until...
“Polarity vs metal. That could be baaaaad.” Look I like taking screenshots of Merc don’t kinkshame me.
Volume 3′s third quarter does an excellent job in setting up the immediate stakes of the Fall of Beacon, and separates Team RWBY so they’re scattered and confused once the fireworks begin to go off. Pyrrha’s arc continues and prepares itself for the conclusion awaiting her atop the Beacon tower, while Ruby gets to display some street smarts and quickly puts together some dangling threads after her talk with Velvet and spotting Emerald among the crowd. The major pieces are set up well in advance and given time to breathe ahead of the tidal wave that’s about to hit the shoreline.
Meanwhile in Haven: RNJR sit around a house for a month and wait for the plot to invite them over to the climax, Blake just invites herself and most of the “stakes” are either set up in A Perfect Storm (AKA one of the two worst episodes in the entire show) or come up out of nowhere with little foreshadowing (see: Jaune being suicidal). I don’t know about you but I’ll pick one approach to seeing up a climax over the other every time and... I think it’s clear which I’ll side with
In conclusion, The Fall of Beacon is an expertly put together string of episodes, with the back half of Volume 3 wrapping up with a neat little bow and remaining the peak of RWBY (Heroes and Monsters is my personal favorite episode in the show). Barring the finale timeskipping after Ruby uses her Silver Eyes, depriving us of countless emotionally gut-wrenching scenes- that we never saw JNR reacting to Pyrrha’s death is the one massive black mark over the finale- it’s a near perfect collection that encapsulates what RWBY can be when firing at all cylinders. And that is a fact that becomes more amazing when one considers how Poser was actively fighting against the crew as they made the episodes due to not being ideal software for the episodes. In the midst of these episodes the villains reign supreme and firmly show how much stronger they are than RWBY. Their victories are ash in the mouth in the moment, but any writer worth their salt knows that villains winning now only makes their downfall and defeat that much more of a reward for the heroes when they come out on top.
It concludes several character arcs, sets up countless others as everyone recuperates from the Fall (most predominantly Ruby, Yang and JN_R), and set the seeds for RWBY to move beyond a generic high school battle anime and become its own beast, worthy of carrying Monty’s legacy with it to greener pastures.
The Battle of Haven meanwhile, only looks like more of a bad-taste joke when put alongside the Fall of Beacon, looking flatter and having a lot less color and visual range, alongside consistently weaker animation in all regards except facial. It’s all just the same open room for four weeks straight, mixed with a courtyard and a cave, all of which were locations we didn’t care about due to not spending any time in them or Haven at large thanks to being locked up in a house all season. It was a climax wrought with animation errors, a climax that destroyed the credibility of most of the participating villains and forgot that people watch RWBY to see fight scenes, not see them standing around watching offscreen fights or not doing anything at all. It was a climax where the heroes only won because the theme song was called “Triumph” and because the script said they needed to win.
I linked to it in my Haven video, but FloofArtist’s breakdown of the animation errors in the Battle of Haven remains an almost harrowing experience to watch. Information such as storyboard dates shown in some of the CRWBY episodes show that the Battle was still in storyboarding during December and early January, just a month before it was set to air, and... it shows. Painfully. The Haven episodes reek of being rushed out the door to satiate deadlines, less a product of passion and more a frenzied product of getting the last essential renders done before being sent out like a sacrificial lamb.
While Volume 6 has so far managed to move past the failings of the Haven Battle in that it’s actually good, we’ll need to wait and see for if the Battles of Atlas and Vacuo retain the flaws seen at Haven, and the fans will constantly have Haven hanging overhead like a specter, forever wary that such a sudden and sharp downturn in quality could happen at a moment’s notice. Based off the reaction in-house, between the sudden changing of the writing system, Conner Perkins becoming a co-director and the numerous shots taken at Volume 5 in pre-release for Volume 6, it seems CRWBY themselves have that specter overhead and are desperate to avoid a similar calamity. Only time will tell, and while I have hope based off the stellar execution of the Fall of Beacon, we’re one for two on good climaxes involving Academy wide battles so far.
But in the defense of the show, the Fall of Beacon remains the high-point of RWBY on a narrative and character level. The back half of the season makes up for the weak fights of the first half and allows for an emotionally gripping narrative that collects elements from all three prior volumes and combines them into an emotional gut-punch. The finale may have several black spots over it, but the ride to it contains RWBY at its absolute best, and certified that I would be an avid watcher of this show for years to come.
Thank you for reading. Sharing this article around is a great benefit to me if you appreciated it, and all feedback is much obliged. Please consider following if you enjoyed the piece and wish to see more. I hope you enjoyed it.
#rwby#rwde#rwby analysis#ruby rose#mercury black#james ironwood#adam taurus#blake belladonna#yang xiao long#pyrrha nikos#ozpin#rwby volume 3#rwby volume 5#the fall of beacon#the battle of haven#every time i think i'm done shittalking volume 5#I GET PULLED BACK IN
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Karma in Retrograde (15)
title: Karma in Retrograde
summary: When Dabi is hit by a de-aging quirk, he’s turned back to a 16 year-old U.A. Gen Studies student with self-esteem and parent issues, a destructive quirk, and no memory of the last five years. To help the Dabi of the past, present, and future, he is placed with Class 1-A. There, they must all face the question of whether he can change or if his destiny is already set in stone.
– Chapter 15: Ryouta gets a new wardrobe thanks to Aizawa that causes various reactions and gets beat up by Mina. Sort of.
Lanni notes: One of my favorite things about Ryouta is that he's both somehow hyper-aware about some things and also completely oblivious to others. Also, his budding friendships with the others mean the world to me. He's got a different one with everyone and they're all changing. This is definitely a more slice of life chapter after the heaviness of the one before. A little lightness in this emotional rollercoaster. I was rolling while reading some of the parts that Misty wrote. This was freaking fun to write. The song for this chapter is an English rendition of Hey Kids!
Tonight they'll don their masks, the kids that tear it down.
And all these scheming lies will soon evoke the end.
Turn up the temperature,
Entice that golden taste.
Give it some flavor, flavor, flavor.
Just wanna hold your hand.
After they returned to the dorms, Ryouta immediately excused himself to the relatively safe confines of his room. Shouto tried to appear impassive, but he got the feeling that his brother wanted more of an explanation. They’d thought he was dead. Had it been just the lack of contact? Had he started to give off behavior that suggested he might do something to himself? Those horrific scars and staples flashed in his mind. He had done something to himself. They wouldn’t have been far off to think that.
Finally alone in his room, Ryouta couldn’t help but feel a little, treacherously, relieved. Reuniting with Fuyumi hadn’t gone terribly. It looked like she wasn’t angry at him, didn’t even blame him for the things that she really should. (How like her.) That was more than he had dared to hope for. Something like that seemed like it should have made the overall situation easier to handle. Yet when he thought about sitting down to have a long, proper talk with his twin, the lump in his throat remained. Hurried goodbyes with her promising to return were emotional in their own bittersweet way, but they were nothing compared to the prospect of climbing the metaphorical mountain that was communication.
Perhaps it was cowardly of him to delay the inevitable so readily. He was fine with that. The day had been overwhelming as it was. He wouldn’t say it - he didn’t want them to think he was too emotionally fragile to handle it or was going to back out (as if he could) because he had hit some sort of invisible limit - but it had been a lot of talking. Genuine discussion. Everything seemed to pass by in a tired haze for the rest of the day, his mind still trying to process what had just happened. It was fortunate that nothing important happened, because even if a hurricane full of sharks spontaneously hit the school, he couldn’t guarantee that he would have been able to pay attention.
Aside from himself and Shouto making an attempt to talk about what had happened, floundering, giving up, and changing the subject and a few more taunts from Bakugou that had him considering just buying a hat and getting it over with, nothing truly significant happened the next day either. That suspicious calm was brought to a screeching halt when he was called to see Aizawa the next morning.
Ryouta approached Aizawa’s office with a nervous feeling in his gut. He tried to remember what he had done over the past several days, sibling stuff aside, in an effort to figure out if he had done something wrong. Not that it mattered if he found anything or not. His entire existence was wrong. Arguing with Bakugou and failing to complete all of his work with Iida at once, while bad, paled in face of the fact that, at the end of the day, he was a villain. The staff of U.A. didn’t need any further reason to get rid of him. Wracking his mind trying to think of something that may have pushed them over the edge was merely self-inflicted torture.
He felt the urge to delay upon Aizawa’s door entering his line of sight and immediately squashed it. Whatever lay ahead of him, he would face it head-on and accept it with as much grace as he could muster. It was the bare minimum. Rather than slow down, he increased his pace. A few seconds later, he announced his arrival with a single sharp rap of his knuckles against the wooden door.
“Come in,” Aizawa called. His voice gave nothing away. Ryouta tried not to read into it.
It felt like the doorknob should have given some hint as to the nature of the meeting. Instead, Ryouta wrapped his hand around the cold, meaningless steel, the same as always. He opened the door with a quick twist and stepped inside the room. The motion was made less fluid than it could have been by his proceeding to hover by the door. “Sir. You wanted to see me?” It felt like a stupid question to ask, yet he couldn’t think of anything better.
Aizawa nodded. He began to move as if looking around the room for something, only to pause, his gaze catching on Ryouta’s face. It was a struggle not to fidget under that scrutinizing gaze, made even worse by the teacher’s absurdly strong poker face. He tried to search his expression for signs of disappointment or anger and came up with nothing. After a few heavy seconds, that was finally changed by the slightest of downturns to the teacher’s lips. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
Ryouta shrugged. “Is it?” He tried to keep his voice steady - not too uncaring, not angry, frightened, or amused, and certainly not impudent. This time, he wasn’t trying to be sarcastic, but asking a genuine question. That didn’t mean that he wanted to sound desperate either.
That incalculable stare lingered for a few more seconds before Aizawa answered. “No, you’ve been doing well.”
The relief that came washing over him was almost strong enough to be tangible. It was accompanied by the sense of something warm buzzing in his chest. He was reluctant to call it pride, as not fucking things up (more than they already were) was a truly pathetic thing to be proud over, but he wasn’t displeased. More importantly, Aizawa wasn’t displeased. He said that he had been doing well, even with the incidents with Bakugou and Endeavor and the lesson and the general soul-crushing awkwardness. That was…good.
“Oh.” Although it was better than it had been a moment ago, Ryouta’s posture remained tense despite the good news. He forced himself to relax some more before walking across the room to sit in the chair in front of Aizawa’s desk. Hopefully, the action didn’t look as difficult as it felt. “What is it then?” He tried to ignore how much shorter he felt than the homeroom teacher sitting across from him.
A gaze as blank as Aizawa’s had no right to feel like it was staring into his soul. Yet, when the homeroom teacher opted to watch him for a moment longer before responding, he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable notion that it was doing exactly that. “You don’t have any clothes.” Immediately, impulsively, Ryouta glanced down at his dress shirt, which prompted Aizawa to add, “Of your own.” He did not look back up. Suddenly, that unreadable state didn’t sound so bad.
Ryouta tried to force down the embarrassment threatening to overtake him. Circumstances meant that he didn’t own anything of his own, but at least he could take some comfort in knowing that he hadn’t been asking for charity. Sure, it was stupid of him not to immediately realize what Aizawa was talking about, but it was too late for him to do anything about that. “Ah.” He slowly rolled his eyes upward and forced his gaze to drift back over to Aizawa, prompting him to continue the conversation like a normal, functional person who understood that there was no point in dwelling on minor slip-ups.
Rather than continue speaking, Aizawa reached under the desk. He retrieved a large plastic and unceremoniously plopped it between them. “You already have your uniform, but you need casual clothes. Tell me if I got the wrong size or there are any other problems.” With that, he gestured for him to take the bag.
It took a moment for Ryouta to spur himself into action. He stared at the bag and took care not to open his mouth until he knew what he was going to say. “Th-Thank you,” he eventually managed. That was a mistake. He snapped his jaw shut the moment he caught the stammer, his eyes briefly widening in a moment of raw mortification. Don’t get weird, he told himself. Be grateful, but don’t make him think you’ll expect more. “You didn’t-”
Aizawa cut him off with a dismissive snort. “Someone had to.” His tone came off as factual rather than accusational or pitying. Ryouta let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The hero gestured to the bag a second time. “Now, get going.”
“Right.” He reached out to take the bag, however, just as he began to lift it up by the plastic handles, he hesitated. “Thank you,” he repeated. This time, there was no stammer. The entirely unwarranted bubble of pride that threatened to well up over that was combated by his lingering shame over it having happened in the first place. Ryouta wisely opted not to tempt fate any further, finished removing the bag from the desk, and hastily returned to his room to inspect its bounty.
Besides being colors that he didn’t typically opt for, they looked like the right size and, more importantly, they looked comfortable. Ryouta had never taken fashion very seriously. As long as they fit him and he didn’t waste time pulling at them, clothes were clothes. He spent most of his time at U.A. in his uniforms. At home, shorts and a t-shirt was the best option. A lot of his clothing ended up burned or destroyed anyways, especially when he was forced into training with his father. He’d owned a few casual outfits, but nothing special. These would do.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he glanced at the clock and turned back to the bag of clothes. As soon as the time registered in his head, he snapped back to look again and swore, “Oh shit!” as he jumped to his feet. He’d gotten so distracted by his original panic over being called to Aizawa’s office and then the relief at not being in trouble that he’d completely forgotten that he was supposed to meet Uraraka and Midoriya at Gamma Gym. The speed in which he changed into his athletic uniform and shoved a change of clothes in the bag Yaoyorozu created for him would have impressed Iida.
Ryouta would confess to not being very strong and only fast in short bursts, having learned early on that dodging was easier than attacking, but he could run for long distances. He’d figured that out the hard way when his father had started his endurance training. By the time he made it to the gym, he was a little out of breath, bursting through the doors with, “Sorry I’m late!” before doubling over with his hands on his knees.
When he lifted his head, instead of being greeted by Midoriya and Uraraka, it was Mina and Uraraka who were currently stretching.
“Hey!” Mina called out, waving a hand. “We were wondering if you chickened out.”
“Uh, no, I just got distracted.”
Mina smiled. “I’m just teasing.”
Uraraka pulled herself to her feet and stretched her back one last time. “I hope you don’t mind that Mina joined us today. Deku had something come up.” She fist pumped Mina and the two girls laughed, the sign of an inside joke. Ryouta had never had one of those with any of his classmates. He’d had a few with Natsuo. In a way, now he was the inside joke of Class 1-A. “She knows how to kick more butt than Deku anyways.”
“No, yeah, that’s cool,” Ryouta quickly replied. “Cool, cool, cool.”
Setting his bag down next to theirs, he stretched and kept his attention elsewhere as the two girls talked. After learning more about hand-to-hand combat in the hero class, Ryouta had been forced to admit that he sucked at it. Aizawa had warned them that they needed to practice outside of class, but he also knew that he needed help. Since he’d been partnered with her in class and she was nice in a way that didn’t feel fake, Uraraka had been his safest bet. Midoriya had been with her at the time and had eagerly offered to help as well. Apparently, both of them had once been terrible at fighting.
Once he was done, Uraraka explained a few drills that she’d learned while interning with Gunhead. They were simple, but more interesting than Ryouta had expected. Endeavor had never focused on physical fighting during his training. It was all about strengthening and controlling his quirk. Ryouta’s quirk had to be stronger, faster, last longer, more focused. Everything else came second. It left him relying on his quirk more than anything else and put him at a disadvantage when he couldn’t even control the damn thing fully.
“I’ve learned more since then thanks to Kirishima and Mina,” Uraraka finished, “but I figured we could just start here and go from there.”
“And you’re sure this isn’t a waste of your time?” Ryouta asked again.
“Oh, it’s no problem!” Uraraka reassured him. “It’s good to review the basics every now and then to make sure my form is still good.”
Mina nudged her in the side. “Plus, she feels bad about kicking your ass so thoroughly in front of everyone.”
Ryouta shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not her fault that I never really learned how to fight.”
That seemed to catch their interest. He tried to smother a flicker of irritation. Throwing any sort of hints about what it was like for him growing up was a quick way to get questions that he had no intention of answering. He’d already let far too much slip when he’d been so tight-lipped before. Shouto must have been equally vague about his past or completely silent on the subject.
Everyone couldn’t help but wonder how the household of the then-number-two hero could produce an up-and-coming hero and a villain.
“Come to think of it,” Uraraka said slowly, “Todoroki relies mostly on his quirk too.”
“Who needs to fight when you’ve got all that power?” Ryouta lifted his hands, palms up, and gazed down at them. He didn’t call up his flames like he wanted to out of concern that it might make them uneasy. It was easy enough to picture them though. When he dropped his hands and looked back to them, their eyes flickered up to his and he knew that they’d been thinking about his quirk as well. He coughed. “You two ready to show me the ropes?”
Uraraka formed her hands into fists and gave him a confident smile. “We could do some drills and work on your form and then see how you use them against an opponent. Drills aren’t worth anything if you forget all of it once you’re in a fight.”
“Better give it your all,” Mina told him as she punched the air playfully. “I won’t go easy on you.”
Well, this was going to be interesting. He was taller than both girls but had no doubts that they could take him on. He had to be stronger - he’d started to gain actual muscle when he was thirteen - but they were better at this than him. The idea of a fist fight was so beyond him that he’d never thought to practice hand-to-hand combat until that class. He didn’t have a quirk meant for punching. That said, it was starting to occur to him that there were ways to use his quirk that he’d never considered before either.
Learning the drills themselves wasn’t that difficult. Ryouta worked on his stance, which would ground him better and keep him from getting tossed around as easily. Next, he practiced different kinds of punches before adding on dodging until it built into something along the lines of a violent dance move. They went at it like that for a while, working up a sweat. It wasn’t that difficult for him to do, as his temperature ran hot due to the nature of his quirk, but even the girls got really into it.
At first, when he’d realized that it was Uraraka and Mina, he had worried that he’d be too self-conscious. However, they were so laser-focused on what they were doing that he fell into it as well. It reminded him of when he and Fuyumi would get sucked into a book and lose hours together. Before he knew it, nearly an hour had passed and he knew a lot more than he had when they started. It wasn’t a lot, seeing as how he couldn’t learn everything there was about fighting in an hour, but it was a start. Aizawa would at least be able to see that he had put in the extra effort to catch up.
“Do you think you’re ready to put what you’ve learned so far into practice?” Uraraka asked.
Ryouta wiped the sweat off his face as best as he could and glanced over at Mina, who was lightly bouncing on the balls of her feet, like she wasn’t tired at all. He was definitely feeling the burn of his muscles and the first hints of being worn out. Still, he knew that he could last a long time. The kids in the hero course had endurance that would put most of the world to shame, but he’d learned to run on fumes years ago. He could burn and burn until there was nothing left in the tank and still keep on pushing.
“Sure,” he finally responded. He took a swig from his water bottle and tossed it back into his bag before languidly getting into a stance. Staring back at Mina, every inch of his body was screaming to tense up, but he kept himself relaxed, conserving his energy. If he lasted longer than five seconds, he’d be happy. Uraraka had done her best to teach him a few moves, but it would be different using them against an opponent that was actively fighting back and moving fast.
Despite the fact that she was about to kick his ass (or perhaps because of it), Mina wore quite a cheerful expression. She moved first, rushing forward and reaching to snatch him by the wrist. Fuck, she was quick. Ryouta fell back into his usual routine of dodging out of habit, sliding out of her reach. He slammed his right foot down behind him to strengthen his footing and then swung a left hook. She dodged it by twisting to the side, his fist sailing past her head uselessly, and then landed a precise hit in his side that forced him to stumble back.
“Gotcha!” Mina laughed.
“You left yourself wide open when you tried to attack,” Uraraka pointed out
Doubled over with a hand on his side, Ryouta managed to say, “I noticed.” When he stood up straight, his ribs stung, but it wasn’t terrible. He had a feeling that Mina hadn’t hit him as hard as she could even though she had said that she wouldn’t go easy on him. He would’ve really been bruised if she had. Still, despite being hit, he wasn’t mad or upset. In fact, as adrenaline seeped into his veins, he felt kind of, well, excited. Neither one of them were acting afraid of him and were actively encouraging him.
This time, Ryouta moved to attack first. Mina easily dodged his first attempt to hit her and then blocked his next attack. When she attacked, he blocked the first punch, but then caught her second with his hand, just as he’d done with Bakugou. It was a hard punch, but compared to a punch powered by an explosion, it only stung a little. He hooked a foot behind her ankle and shoved hard, tripping her and knocking her off balance. The thought that he didn’t want to actually hit her flashed in his mind, but then that was the whole point what they were doing here. She’d taken harder hits than he could manage with his fist alone.
Before he could follow through with a takedown, Mina used her momentum to do a backflip, using one hand on the ground to spring back onto her feet. The move was so graceful that Ryouta could’ve almost believed that it had been planned from the start. He inadvertently paused to gawk for a few seconds. There was no way in hell that he could manage a flip at this point. The mere idea of gymnastics made his mind attempt to jump through hoops.
She didn’t give him any time to recover from his shock, getting in a quick jab against his chest. When she went to hit him again, he snatched her by the wrist and pulled on her hard so that he could get her in a semblance of a hold, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He was stronger than her, judging from the way she jerked against his grip. His brief moment of pride was cut off when she hooked her foot around his ankle and kicked out, knocking his feet out from underneath him. Both of them fell backward and he hit the ground hard with her landing on top of him. It knocked the air out of his lungs and he loosened his grip on her enough for her to slip out. Before he knew it, she had him flipped on his stomach and an arm pinned behind his back.
Breathing heavily, Mina asked, “You give?” She was breathless, probably from the rough landing. He wasn’t exactly good cushion material.
With his face pressed against the mat and his arm pinned high enough to be just shy of being painful, Ryouta nodded his head and gound out, “Can’t really breathe.” Satisfied with his answer, Mina let go of his arm and rolled off of him so she could flop onto the mat. Ryouta rolled onto his back and sucked in a gasp of air as his lungs began to cooperate with him again. He took a few seconds to breathe before pointing out, “You didn’t go all out on me.”
“No,” Mina admitted, “but you wouldn’t be able to learn if I just floored you in a few seconds.”
“It felt like it was only a few seconds.”
“You did good,” Mina told him. Uraraka came over and helped her back to her feet as Ryouta sat up. When Mina held a hand out to him to do the same, he waved dismissively and pushed himself to his feet. It struck him that his refusal might’ve come off as rude, but brushing off help had been ingrained in him. It had taken him a while to accept Fuyumi’s help with changing his bandages, but it had made it a lot easier when he had.
“I did better than in class, at least,” Ryouta conceded, rubbing his lower back. Even though he’d landed on the mat, it had been more painful than the punches she’d landed on him.
Uraraka glanced at her phone and groaned. “Ugh, it’s almost time for dinner.”
“Ugh?” Mina questioned. “You love food.”
“I know,” Uraraka complained, “but Iida, Deku, and I are having a study session during it for Present Mic’s exam.”
Ryouta picked up his gym bag and started for the locker rooms. “Good luck with that.”
“You’re so lucky that you don’t have to take it,” Uraraka said as she and Mina did the same.
“That’s because I’ve done it already,” Ryouta pointed out. Seeing as how he’d finished his first year at U.A. and had been a month into his second, it had been decided that he wouldn’t have to take the final exams for the regular classes. He was already repeating being sixteen; he didn’t need to repeat his first year too. It gave him time to work on the hero course, which he was severely behind on.
They split up at the locker rooms, Ryouta going to the boys’ side. He took a quick, hot shower, the warm water soothing his muscles. This training felt different from his quirk training. He was tired and sore, but not worn thin and beaten up. Where he’d puked plenty of times and felt weak, he now felt hungry and ready for dinner. All in all, he felt good. Yeah, he was still leagues behind them in terms of combat, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was actually improving. He was changing. It felt good.
Having clothes that he could call his own was nice too. He didn’t mind wearing Shouto’s old clothes, but it was weird having to borrow clothes from his little brother. After putting on the outfit he’d gotten from the bag of clothes Aizawa had given him, he toweled his hair dry and walked back out to the gym where Mina and Uraraka were already waiting on him.
“You rea-?” Uraraka cut off the second she raised her eyes from her cell to him. They widened briefly before she furrowed her brow and bit her lip, looking like she was trying not to make a face. “Oh, um, new clothes?”
Ryouta hiked the strap of his bag further on his shoulder. “Yeah, Aizawa gave me some clothes so I don’t have to keep borrowing stuff.” He tugged on the hem of his shirt. “I mean, I usually don’t go for things this colorful, but it’s whatever. They’re not bad.”
Mina’s mouth was open as she stared at him, but strangely, she looked positively delighted. “Aizawa picked out those clothes?”
“Maybe?” Ryouta hadn’t really considered it. Getting handed a bag of clothes, having some small detail about him noticed, had combined with the fear that he’d done something wrong and forgotten to make a powerful distraction. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. They’re probably from a bargain store, but that’s fine with me.”
“And you like that outfit?” Mina asked.
“It looks fine to me. Doesn’t really matter. Clothes are clothes. All that matters is that they fit and are comfortable.” Ryouta looked at the two girls, self-consciousness creeping up on him. “Why? Is it…? Does it look bad?” He rubbed the back of his neck, his discomfort becoming stronger by the second. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing!” Uraraka quickly replied. “I mean, well, it’s just, um...a different look.”
Ryouta frowned. “Different good or different bad?”
“Just different,” Uraraka told him. There was a smile on her face, but it looked tense.
“Hey, it’s free clothes,” Ryouta said. Uraraka bobbed her head in understanding. She’d talked about her financial difficulties, so she of all people would be able to understand. “I can’t complain.”
Mina clapped her hands together, a bright smile on her face and still utterly delighted. “I think it looks fabulous.” Ryouta’s cheeks warmed. He didn’t even know how to respond to that. Fabulous was not a word he would have ever thought to use to describe himself. Was she being sarcastic? No, she looked and sounded genuine, which was weird. “But a few people might say something else about it.”
Rolling his eyes and starting for the door, Ryouta said, “If you’re referring to Bakugou, I don’t care. He’s going to say something no matter what I wear. It’s not a big deal.”
It really wasn’t. To be honest, over the past few days, Bakugou had been kind of tame. The coming final exams had proven to be a great distraction as they were more worthy of his time than insulting Ryouta. It was strange, but he’d noticed that, despite coming off as a hothead ready to fly off the handle, Bakugou was really serious about school and his work. Iida had told him that he was third in the class. It was surprising. His tormentor was kind of...a nerd. It had started to change Ryouta’s view of him. This kid truly wanted to be a hero.
“I still wish he wasn’t so mean, but, you know, he has a hard time letting things go,” Mina said, the smile fading from her face, as she walked at his right.
“He doesn’t have to,” Ryouta pointed out. “I’m fine with him hating me.”
“I don’t think he hates you,” Uraraka mused, which made Ryouta snort. He was pretty sure on a scale of one to ten on how much Bakugou hated him, he was at a solid thirteen. “He hates looking weak and you - well, Dabi - made him feel it. I know it sounds weird, but as awful as the whole kidnapping was, he’s becoming a better hero for it. I mean, he’s even starting to get past his issues with Deku.” She shook her head as they stepped outside. “Not that it was a good thing at all! It just made us all think about what we’re doing here and what kind of heroes we want to become.”
“And he’s gotten a lot better,” Mina added. “He can be kind of an ass. He still calls me as Raccoon Eyes sometimes when he’s in a bad mood.”
“But you don’t have raccoon eyes,” Ryouta interjected.
Mina smiled. “It doesn’t bother me. He’s given dumb nicknames for everyone. It’s like this thing.” She looked over to her right at Uraraka. “What did he call you?”
Uraraka blew a raspberry. “Round Face.”
“That is dumb,” Ryouta said with a snort.
“The thing is, all his...Bakugou-ness aside, he’s one of my good friends,” Mina continued. A mischievous glint that instantly made Ryouta wary appeared in her golden eyes. “But sometimes I think it’d be funny to give him a taste of his own medicine. We play pranks on each other all the time, but never as much with Bakugou. It’d be nice to really pull one over him.”
“You’re flirting with danger, girl,” Uraraka joked.
Mina winked. “What’s wrong with a little danger?”
“Most people try to stay away from it,” Ryouta said.
“Do I look like most people?” Mina laughed and Uraraka giggled with her.
“Uh, no? Most people aren’t pink.” Ryouta wasn’t exactly sure what kind of response she had been expecting, but apparently, his was good enough as the two girls laughed again. Even though he wasn’t a part of their group and he couldn’t exactly consider them friends, seeing as how he’d been stuck with them by force, it was nice of them to make him feel included. He still felt like he was on the outside - he didn’t know if he would ever be able to feel any different - but it wasn’t so bad. Neither Uraraka nor Mina had to come to the gym with him today, but they’d done it. They must’ve taken Iida’s declaration to heart.
That thought lead to another surprising, but not upsetting, one. Aside from Uraraka’s reaction to his outfit, which was another matter entirely, they hadn’t seemed particularly uncomfortable around him either. While it was true that they could have just gotten better at hiding their discomfort, that just signified more effort to make him feel welcome. Ryouta didn’t know if he should feel touched by the kindness or guilty about the inconvenience. He settled for glancing down at his feet and trying to find something else to think of as a compromise.
His solution came to him as he turned the corner into the common room. Granted, it wasn’t necessarily the one he wanted, but it certainly distracted him from any ill-fated attempts to figure out his companions. They were immediately greeted by a choking, wheezing sound. On a couch sat Midoriya, a cup of water which he had apparently partially inhaled in one hand, the other covering his mouth as he stared at Ryouta. Beside him was Iida, who, despite firmly pounding his choking friend on the back and continuously asking if he was okay or needed medical attention, also kept glancing at him.
The worst, by far, was Shouto. He all but jumped out of his seat and eyed him for a heartbeat before scrubbing his eyes with a hand and groaning. “I’d forgotten about this,” he grumbled.
Those words broke the stunned silence that the reaction to their arrival had generated. “Forgotten about what?” Ryouta asked. His brother lowered his hand and eyed the ceiling, looking for all the world like he didn’t want to be the one to explain.
Since Midoriya had stopped choking, Iida decided to lift the burden from his shoulders. He shot up like a springboard before starting to speak. “I am not admonishing you as you are not violating any dress codes or offending anyone. We were merely caught off guard. I, at least, did not expect you to enjoy…” Iida paused the chopping gestured his hands had begun making for a moment to stare at his shirt. “Kawaii. ”
He heard a small noise from Uraraka, followed by a gentle slap as she pressed her hand against her mouth. Mina reached forward to pat him on the shoulder. “Aizawa gave him some clothes,” she said, the earlier glee still lingering in her tone.
“Of course,” Iida said, although the soft wheeze that emitted from the still red-faced Midoriya signified that ‘of course’ may not have been the best choice of words. “I’m sorry! I did not mean to imply that they are bad! The… contrast of the bold colors and pastels…”
Ryouta tuned him out and looked down at his clothes. He wore a diagonally striped blue open-front shirt with pale yellow cuffs and, underneath that, a hot pink u-neck with a print of a yellow cat and the word ‘kawaii’ (or he thought it was meant to say ‘kawaii’, as it was written in english and had come out as ‘hawaii’ instead) with a claw-mark through it. His pants were a fairly bright pastel orange and his shoes simple black flip-flops. All in all, it was a comfortable ensemble that served its purpose.
“I think it’s fine,” he said. Even so, he could feel his self-consciousness begin to well up again, along with the feeling that he was repeating himself and would be for a while.
“That’s what I forgot,” Shouto murmured. Ryouta turned to glower at his brother, only to pause when he saw the faint signs of amusement on his face. Oh. The simultaneously alien and precious notion that his brother may be trying to playfully tease him wasn’t one that he knew how to respond to. He remembered such behavior from Natsu, but not as much from Shouto. Especially not this Shouto. His mind felt caught up trying to process the fact that it was somehow happening.
He was promptly reminded that the rest of the world did, in fact, exist, by Midoriya finding his voice. “I was a little surprised, but I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with it,” he said. “If you’re comfortable, you should wear it! Right, guys?” Midoriya flashed Ryouta an encouraging smile before turning it to everyone else in the room. He was met by a somewhat reluctant chorus of agreement and somewhat uncomfortable smiles.
There was definitely something off that he wasn’t catching onto. Even so, he nodded decisively and said, “Thank you, Midoriya. You have a decent sense of style, so I trust you.” Midoriya visibly brightened at that, although he could swear that he saw Uraraka struggling not to cringe out of the corner of his eye. He would have shot her a confused look if he wasn’t afraid of drawing his attention to it. Was something wrong with Midoriya’sclothes? He’d liked most of his outfits so far, his ‘shirt’ shirts were really funny, although his shoes were vaguely familiar in an unsettling way.
“There really isn’t anything wrong,” Mina piped up. ‘No matter what some people say,’ while left unsaid, was communicated easily through the encouraging look she shot him. “I really like the shir-”
“Oh.”
The sudden interruption drew Ryouta’s gaze back to the hallway, where Yaoyorozu Momo stood, staring at him, as seemed to be the trend for the afternoon. Her expression, however, was one of solid dismay, her hand held up to her mouth and her eyes wide in horror. It faltered as agitation flickered across her features before finally being replaced by something harder.
She marched into the room and began to speak in a voice that, for all its gentleness, held an unwavering undertone of firmness. “I don’t know who did this, but I expected better of my classmates. You know how we’re supposed to behave. This is…” she shook her head, looking almost disgusted. By the time she came to a stop in front of Ryouta, he was already very confused. What she said next did not help. “Ryouta, if you tell me who-”
“Aizawa, apparently,” Shouto interrupted. He probably imagined it, but it sounded like his brother was tempted to laugh.
The color began to leave Yaoyorozu’s face in short order. “ Oh,” she repeated. This time, the word was swimming in shame, although there was also a fair amount of lingering horror as well. She took a few steps back and looked at the wall, ceiling, floor - anywhere but Ryouta’s face. That was when it clicked.
“Did you think I was pranked?” he asked incredulously. Yaoyorozu’s head drooped and the guilt in her expression intensified, which immediately made him regret his words. The Yaoyorozu family was pretty rich. He supposed it wasn’t too ridiculous for her not to understand things like thriftiness and think that giving people brightly colored outfits was a cruel prank. She didn’t mean anything by it at the very least. He opened his mouth to apologize, only for another new arrival, doubtlessly attracted by the slowly rising clamor, to make her presence known before he could speak.
“What’s going on?” Asui said, her brows furrowed and head tilted slightly.
“Ryouta’s bad fashion sense almost killed Midoriya,” Shouto said. Ryouta immediately snapped his head around to glower at him. His voice was a perfect deadpan, but this time, there was no mistaking it. That absolute little shit was definitely laughing.
“Now you’re just being an ass,” he snapped. His voice wavered as he spoke. It wasn’t a bad waver. Although it was beginning to look like he was going to have to repeat himself until everyone had seen him and knew how he got his clothes, which was undeniably irritating, and didn’t like how people kept looking at him yet refused to explain what was wrong, it didn’t feel bad. Despite seeming like it should do the opposite, Shouto’s apparent amusement in the situation was making his self-consciousness slowly melt away. It looked like he might be aware of it to some degree as well.
Shouto looked him in the eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Someone has to tell you the truth.” This time, Uraraka wasn’t able to keep herself from letting out a small snicker. He heard a small ‘thwack’ as Mina smacked her on the arm, which, despite a choked attempt to apologize, only made her laugh harder. Somewhere in the midst of this, Asui gave a neutral, “I see.”
Ryouta rolled his eyes and huffed before looking back at Yaoyorozu. She still looked guilty and was fiddling with her hands. He also noticed that Iida was sitting stiffly and had a blush lingering on his face, likely admonishing himself over something or other. Midoriya kept shooting him concerned glances. “None of you did anything wrong,” Ryouta assured them. “I guess I just… don’t care about clothes that much.”
Naturally, that was when Bakugou showed up.
“Holy fucking shit!” he exclaimed before falling into a fit of laughter that seemed to startle everyone just as much as his choice of clothing had. He had both hands over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his guffaws and was doubled over, as if he physically couldn’t stand straight. His face was even turning red as he tried to restrain himself. His laughter was the only thing to be heard, everyone else having gone very silent with various unsettled looks on their faces. Ryouta wore a blank expression as he watched Bakugou with a completely unimpressed stare.
Midoriya nervously glanced at Shouto and then Uraraka before venturing, “Are...are you okay, Kacchan?”
“Okay?” Bakugou shot back in between laughs. “ Okay? Shut the fuck up, Deku, this is…” He finally stopped laughing, but was forced to refrain from speaking so he could take a few breaths. “What the hell are you wearing?”
Sighting, Ryouta repeated himself for what felt like the hundredth time, “Aizawa got me some clothes of my own.”
“You’re telling me that our homeroom teacher, pro hero Eraserhead, who once expelled an entire hero class, went out and bought you clothes” - Bakugou pointed an accusing finger at him - “and he bought you that? And you just wore it without complaint?”
“I highly doubt that he bought them himself,” Ryouta replied defensively, folding his arms across his chest. Surely he had better things to do. Then again, it made him wonder who had bought them. Maybe he’d just asked for donations and people had put clothes they no longer wore in the bag. It would explain the random variety of colors and styles. “And why wouldn’t I? I’m not a complete jackass. You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. They fit. They’re comfortable. They fulfill their function. They’re clothes. What else is there, Saggy Bottoms?”
The muscle by Bakugou’s right eye twitched, probably at the nickname, but at least he was confident enough in himself to not immediately pull his pants up. He did sag his pants a ridiculous amount. In the back of his mind, Ryouta knew that he’d pick at his clothes later, trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with them, but he was resisting out of sheer stubbornness for now.
“I don’t know,” Bakugou finally replied, still sounding incredulous. “Maybe that they look good and not like you dropped acid and went shopping in the kid’s section?”
“They’re not that bad,” Mina jumped in.
Bakugou shook his head. “No, no, don’t defend this disaster just because you like bright colors.”
“And Aizawa was the one that got them, so this is really on him,” Uraraka added.
“Maybe so,” Bakugou said, like that was a door he would open on another day. “But Dabi over here willingly put them on and thinks it’s perfectly fine.” He started to snort as he tried to resist the urge to start laughing again. “He looks like he’s going to a rave. At least it matches his hair.”
At that moment, Kirishima walked in with Kaminari behind him. The first thing he noticed as Bakugou laughing. “What’s go-?” His eyes landed on Ryouta and widened. “Whoa, um, wow, okay I was not expecting this.”
“Can you believe that the guy wearing this outfit grows up to kidnap me?” While Bakugou cooled down, everyone else wore distinctly uncomfortable looks. Uraraka shifted on her feet. Deku coughed. Shouto glowered in that way that made the room drop a degree. No one said anything though and Ryouta could understand why. It was up to Bakugou how he dealt with that part of his past. If he chose to be glib about it for whatever reason, they would let him do it. No one had the right to take that choice away from him. “I’m honestly kind of pissed, now that I think about it. How the hell could I have ever been-?” He cut himself off and narrowed his eyes. “Whatever. That’s tacky.”
What was it that Uraraka had said about Bakugou? That he hated looking weak and Dabi had made him feel that way? There was no way in hell he was going to admit that in front of everyone. Ryouta would’ve done the same thing as him: denied any sort of weakness or fear until he died or maybe even taken it to his grave. Having information pried out of him that he’d never willingly given away before was already awkward enough.
“Dude,” Kaminari said, his face filled with as much delight and mirth as Mina’s had been. “That outfit is electric!”
“No!” Bakugou shouted, letting off a mini explosion in his palm, to which Kaminari just laughed.
Kirishima shrugged his shoulders, by far the most neutral out of all of them, although he still looked surprised. “I don’t know, man. I mean, that outfit is, uh, loud, but if you feel comfortable wearing it and don’t care what anyone else thinks, that’s pretty manly.”
“No,” Bakugou said again, much more emphatically, “no, no. You do not get an opinion in this.” He pointed down at Kirishima’s shoes, which were unmistakably crocs. Ryouta raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized that people still wore those. “Not when you refuse to throw those things away.”
“You’re just jealous that you can’t rock them,” Kirishima retorted.
“Just leave them both be, Bakugou,” Mina said in a dismissive tone. She really wasn’t phased by him at all, talking to him like she would anyone else. “At least we don’t wear different versions of the same shirt practically every day.”
Ryouta eyed the other boy. “Now that I think about it, do you own any t-shirts that aren’t black with a skull on it?”
Bakugou glared at him. If it was possible for steam to come out of a person’s ears like in cartoons, Ryouta was fairly certain he would be doing that right now. “I’d rather do that than wear an outfit you could see from space.” He stood up straight and swept the room with a glare that dared anyone to protest. “I’ll be in my dorm giving my eyes a break from this. Thanks for making my week brighter.” And with that, he stomped to his dorm, leaving everyone confused about how to feel.
Well, in a sense, that was the most positive interaction that Ryouta had ever had with Bakugou, so he couldn’t exactly be mad about it. Yeah, he was a little disgruntled, but he was mostly feeling awkward about being the center of attention for so long. Was he going to have to do some sort of fashion show for the class so they could get whatever this was out of their systems? He was not doing that, but if they had this reaction every time it put on a new outfit, it would get old fast.
Mina laying a hand on his arm nearly made Ryouta jump out of his flip-flops. She pulled it away so fast that it was almost like he’d only imagined her touching him. “You okay?”
Ryouta blinked. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” For once, he wasn’t lying. He glanced at Shouto, who had eased up again now that Bakugou was out of the room. Every time the two of them were near each other, his brother would tense up, as if he had to remain vigilant in case a fight broke out, even if it was somewhere as mundane as the bathrooms in the morning while brushing their teeth. “It’s not a big deal, really.”
Around them, everyone began to disperse again. Uraraka had meandered over to the couch to sit with Iida and Midoriya, probably to start their study session. Kirishima and Kaminari had gone to the kitchen. Yaoyorozu moved to speak with Shouto about something, distracting him and leaving Ryouta with just Mina.
“You sure?” she asked.
“Yeah. If it’s not my hair, it’s my clothes,” Ryouta said, “but honestly, it’s a lot better than what it could be. I’m, you know…”
Bakugou could pick on him for a lot worse things than his looks. There was the fact that he was a villain. That would have gotten under his skin a lot more. He didn’t like it when Bakugou referred to him as Dabi, but that was the name he knew him by from back then. It was a name that he had apparently chosen for himself. What a shit ass name.
Ryouta shrugged his shoulders and added, “Like you said, it’d be nice to pull one over him so he knows what it’s like, but it’s not like I can do anything.”
Mina grinned and he couldn’t help but notice that that devious glimmer was back and stronger than ever. “I have an idea.”
@mistystarshine notes: Agreed that this was a fun chapter to write! As I read Lanni's chunks, I. Was. Howling. Of course, the story wouldn't be half as much fun without you readers. We're almost at a thousand kudos, which... holy cow! I love you guys so much!
Now we get to the fun part of my notes. We have fanart! The first piece is directly linked to this chapter. Have a reference of Ryouta in his horrible outfit, made by the wonderful @ccyans! You should also admire this titan of pastels for designing the outfit. We just put the vision into words.
Next, we have some memes by @wellthengetouttathesoupaisle! They were inspired by discord shenanigans, but believe me when I say that you don't need context to enjoy them.
Finally, we have been blessed with some ship art by Pseudowinner! Would you believe me if I said that Lanni and I didn't drop any spoilers for this chapter? (Aside from asking Ccyans for permission to use the wonder outfit, of course!) Getting this right before a chapter with so much interaction between them made me grin.
To anyone who's interested and didn't catch it before, you can find the discord here! We'd love to have you!
#dabi#dabi is a todoroki#bnha#aizawa shouta#katsuki bakugou#mina ashido#ochako uraraka#izuku midoriya#tenya iida#momo yaoyorozu#ejirou kirishima#denki kaminari#mha#boku no hero academia#dabi fic#my hero academia#ryouta is a hot mess lmao#look he made bakugou laugh#the things of songs
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Kyusha bounded over the rooftops, stylishly leaping over obstacles in her way. Yeah, she could jump a bit harder and just cross several rooftops but where’s the fun in that? Awesome parkour sequences have always been something she felt make a competent action scene feel more intense.
A nice side tracking shot showing the silhouette of the jade heroine doggedly making her way across Akibahara’s skyline would definitely help here.
Hikaru could only look down and shake her head. “Come on, chief! This isn’t no time to show off! We’ve gotta catch that guy!”
“Come on, let me have a little fun for once!” Kyusha called back, but the bird had a point. So, she took one hard step and launched into the air, closing quite a bit of distance between herself and the mysterious assailant.
The chase quickly came into a head on top of the GiGo arcade building.
“Alright, you...time to give up the chase!” Kyusha had already brandished the Neurevolver, and was aiming it at the would-be sniper.
He was facing away from our intrepid duo. He was wearing a combat vest, and underneath that military fatigues done up in urban camo (which was rather wild and colorful). The rifle he’d been using was slung up on his back- but it wasn’t any make Ikura had ever seen. A full face hood and gloves were being used to hide his identity.
Reaching up, he took off the mask and gloves, tossing them aside. As he turned around, it revealed...to be another bird-person!? His
“What?” Hikaru asked. “I wasn’t aware of any other Raptoroids on this part of Earth!” She cried out.
“I’m no Raptoroid, you mewling quim.”
Hikaru flared her wings. “You shut your piehole, guy!”
For a moment, there was naught a word uttered; the only sounds were those coming from the streets below.
The assassin took a step forwards. “I am a proud Zyuman...not some filthy alien who thinks she owns this town,” he hissed, leering at Hikaru. His down was inky black, smoothly set against his sharp figure. Not a single feather was out of place; his eyes, sharp and narrow, being a gold rivaling that of Hikaru’s armor. His beak was long and sharp, being only a few shades lighter than his feathers. Overall, he was a sharp fellow. Indeed, he was quite the sharpshooter.
“I wanna hit him. Can I hit him? We should hit him,” Hikaru said, already flexing her digits.
Of course, her boss wasn’t quite ready for that, so she held her other arm out to stop her. “Who are you? Why are you attempting to kill me?” Kyusha demanded, stepping forward and moving to pull the trigger on the Neurevolver.
“My name is Karasu,” he replied, curling up his talons into a mock gun and acting like he was shooting the others. “But you can call me the Black Reaper...” He laughed, twitching his neck a bit and looking at the two sideways.
“Man...so much edge I feel like he could cut me on it. No wonder he’s so sharp,” Kyusha mused.
“Indeed. I have already risen to fame in the underworld....and it seems my reputation preceded me. I received an offer I just couldn’t refuse....you have quite the pretty price on your head, Miss Ikura. You do answer to that, right?”
If birds could grin, Karasu definitely would. “Someone doesn’t like you....they made that very clear in their letter to me. How old fashioned, hm? I prefer to arrange my jobs digitally....much more convenient. But...it was part of the charm. Would you believe the price he set forwards?”
Karasu turned his back to the pair, looking down on street below. “1,337,133,713,370 yen. A rather peculiar number, but more than enough for me to retire and find a nice place to roost and shoot clay pigeons. Or...perhaps try some human wine.” He chuckled.
“Just get to the point already!” Kyusha barked, pulling the trigger. In the blink of an eye, Karasu had whipped out his sniper rifle, firing a shot that met the Neurevolver’s blast and dispersed it.
“Oh, touchy. Patience, miss. I am getting there.” Karasu held his rifle up, leaning it on his shoulder. “’Get it done with, make it quick,’ he insisted. With the amount he promised...how could I refuse? And now, to see my target, but also a potential trophy? Hmhmhm.....I’m thrilled.”
“So, like, do you assassin guys always exposit like this? We’ve been standing here for a while now.” Hikaru blurted out, bored out of her skull.
Karasu paused, then laughed. “Of course....inferior alien scum like you would be impatient, wouldn’t you?”
“Hey! You leave her race out of this!” Kyusha shouted, dashing forwards and going to roundhouse Karasu. He stepped back, her foot missing his beak by a hair’s breadth.
“He’s fast,” Hikaru said in amazement. “Those kind of reflexes...”
“So you noticed, hm? I honed my skills well. But....for it to just end like this....there’s no fun in it. So...how about a game?” Karasu squatted, looking between Kyusha and Hikaru.
“I’m listening,” Kyusha began.
“My first rule...come alone. I want a duel. No seconds, rooftop aids, or anything of that sort....a fair shootout between two aces.”
Kyusha held a finger up. “Actually, I’m not asexual, I kind of enjoy se--”
Karasu whipped his wrist, and a feather fired out from his wing. It covered the approximate area Ikura’s mouth was on Kyusha’s helmet, and somehow that muffled her speech.
“Your jokes can wait. Now...as for the terms....I do quite enjoy my life. So...we shall use these.” He held up two discs with crossheir patterns on them. “One shot in the bullseye of this will administer a shock to the wearer that will knock them unconcious, allowing the victor to do as they please afterwards.”
“But wouldn’t that just mean you’d kill chief if you won?” Hikaru pointed out again, poking holes in Karasu’s attempts to be mysterious and cool.
“Silence, girl! Your ilk already pollutes this blue planet enough!” Karasu shrieked, leveling his rifle at her. “Your wings may resist my rounds....but I doubt your pretty little face will.”
“Mhhfhfmmfhf,” Kyusha said, moving in the way.
Karasu laughed. “Oh, how predictable! A righteous, selfless leader. Just a facade. He told me all about you.”
Kyusha stomped, and she ripped the feather off. “Okay, I’ve had enough of this bullshit. For fuck’s sake- you’re not cool, you’re not mysterious, you’re annoying.”
She spun the Neurevolver once and aimed at Karasu’s head. “We either duel here and now or I blow your stupid bird brains out! ...no offense, sweetie.”
“None taken,” Hikaru replied, shrugging.
Karasu stood up, blinking then nodding. “Very well then! Our duel shall begin now!”
“I’ll provide the location change!” Kyusha shouted, rushing Karasu and tackling him off the building.
Quite suddenly, the two were in an abandoned storehouse area, and it was broad daylight. Crates had sporadically been placed about to provide waist-high cover. Karasu tossed Kyusha off of him, then took to the skies, putting a bit of distance between himself and the metal warrior. He landed on the other end of the lot, resting his sniper rifle on his shoulder. “There is only one way out, here- death!”
Kyusha stood up, dusting herself off. “We’ll see about that!”
Hikaru was just kind of there. “So, uh, what do I do now? Not quite used to this yet, chief.”
“Go scout around. Make sure he doesn’t have any friends placed on the rooftops.”
Hikaru saluted, then took off. The two really were alone now.
After a quick Mode Change back to Alpha, Kyusha readied the Neurevolver. This would be a bit tricky; he had far more ranged capabilities than she did. To get any effective shots at this distance, she’d have to get up close- Karasu was about 500 meters away.
“Game...” Karasu said, kneeling down and setting up his rifle.
“...start!” Kyusha responded, rolling behind cover as he took his first shot. She popped up, firing several shots in response, even if they were ineffective.
She peered over her cover just enough to get a visual on Karasu; he was confidently exposing himself, knowing he had the advantage. “What a cocky corvid, that card,” she muttered. She brings two fingers up to where her temple would be.
“Hyper Scan!” She shouts, which earns a shot that grazed her shoulder. Sparks flew and she fell back a bit, but grabbed the crate to make sure Karasu stayed in sight.
Her visor lights up, a bright pink line scanning back and forth across it. Inside Kyusha’s helmet, the built in computer systems begin analyzing Karasu; more specifically, his rifle. Streams of data scroll up the far right side of her vision, random lines coming out of the mass of words now and again to point out a significant feature of the weapon. Reticles ran back and forth over it as smaller windows opened up, zooming in on the highlighted traits before everything finally closed and a new window opened, with all the specs that were really relevant to the fight.
3A613 Long-range Enemy Eradication Kannon (L.E.E.K)
Scope distance: 10,000 Km at max zoom
Firing range: 20,000 Km at max velocity
C͉̝a̢̤͍̘̮̞͇l̪̥̕i̶̯͇͓̪b̸e̺̜ͅṟ̼͈̤̬̦ͅ: ̛̗͉͈̳̮2̴̘̦̱̲̻ͅ3͏͉̺̞̠̞̬̳4̨̣̮̤8̤̪̫̲͔͚͎9̵͔̞̳̝͙2͢3͎̘̻̞̝̩̦5̘̥̝̠9͍͙̯͠8̖̺̥̘̫
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̴̞͎̘͚̖ͨ̃͊͠q̛̲̥̇̅̈́ͬ ̱̗̼̅͆͗Û̶͍̹̜̎̌̄̐̿́ ̶̨̙̮͍̘̝̞̽̏͑1̶̛̞͎̪͖̞͈͋͛͒̈́͛ͬ ͕͖̤̬͙̭̭̦̈ͨ̓͛̽+̦̮̱̮͂̂͛͋̔ͨͦ͛ ̸̲͖̰̀̒ͭ͛͛́$̧ͨ́͏̺̦ ̈́͌͑ͧͤ҉̥‘̛̥̗̟͑̋̌̒͜͟]̼̭̯͖͚̙̗̺͒̏͊͗ͭͧ͋̓͢[̸̳ͪͯͩͥ’̴̭̻͉͐͑̇ͩ̾̄ͧ̽̓ ̡͇̹͔̿ͥͫ̋|͍̬͖ͭͥͨ̓’̙͉̗͈̙̘̺̥̈́̔͛͊̑͞ ̖̭͕̘͎͚̆̋ͤ͋͒͊͡v̴̠̗̄ͦ̔̆̀ ͙̘̲̺̥̥͓̲ͯͧ͆̀6̴̡̳̙͈͕ͣ͌ͤ ̨̝̞̬͓̣͔̟̗̤̀̃ͨ͝9̨͚͕̲̪̥͕̯̬̏̍́̊̈ͭ͡ ̨̪̗̠̪̓̊|̙̘͍̹̆̊̒̄̈́͝ͅ_̸̶̛̪̫̥̻̱̯̲̳̍͑ͦ̆ ̛̗̫ͥ̃̋ͦ̇ͤ̍̊̀|͌̏̈ͮ̕͞҉͎̘ͅ ̒͏҉̰̖̯̙͙̼̕ͅ|̛͔̦̤͖͓̄̇̽\̄ͩ́̓̎̉ͤ̚͏̨̟͕̹͓́|̷̱͈̞̱̳̘̥ͨͬ̅̂̇͘ ̎͐̋̃̈͘҉͙̱̱g̴͔͓̤̼͖̬̅̓̀͒͝ͅ ͗ͬͧ̾͛̚͞͏̶̻͍̪̺̪̦
Kyusha’s visor began showing error messages, new windows opening up and completely blocking her view. “Shit!” She yelled, punching the crate.
Setting the Neurevolver by her foot, she brought both her hands up and pressed two concealed switches, causing the helmet to unlock with a hiss and release steam.
Ikura tossed the helmet aside, which rolled a bit before coming to a stop and sparking, small electric pulses running across it before the visor stopped glowing. “What the hell...I coded the OS myself, this shouldn’t be happening!”
She grit her teeth.
Things were looking bad, and the duel had only just begun......
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Mohamed “Mo” Salah, who plays soccer for Liverpool, England, as well as for Egypt, has just come off a season in which he established himself as one of the most exciting players in the world. A Muslim of North African heritage, he plays, excels, and is adored in Britain, a country in which anti-Muslim sentiment is increasingly part of mainstream political and cultural discourse.
And he should be one of the stars of the upcoming 2018 World Cup later this month — if, that is, he makes it to the tournament at all. Due to a recent injury, that’s now in question.
Salah started playing organized soccer as a teenager on an Egyptian team called the Arab Contractors. He joined Egypt’s national team in 2011 at age 19 and moved to Europe the following year. His first years were promising but patchy, and to say this has been a breakout season for Salah is a massive understatement.
The 25-year-old had never scored more than 19 goals in a single season. This year, he scored 44 goals, with an eye-opening 32 in the Premier League. The only player with better stats in Europe was Barcelona’s Lionel Messi, widely considered to be one of the two best players in the world.
But his stardom doesn’t just come from what he does on the soccer pitch; it also comes from who and what he is off it. His brilliance combined with his charming personality and his faith have made him a hero in Egypt, where his face adorns Ramadan lanterns.
He is arguably the Arab world’s finest homegrown soccer player and most prominent sports star, and hundreds of millions of fans follow his every move.
Here’s what you need to know about Salah: why he’s so popular, and why some are hopeful that his enormous popularity in Britain may help combat the Islamophobic attitudes all too prevalent in the UK and beyond.
The first thing you notice about Salah as he moves around the soccer field is his speed. He’s quick. Very quick. Sizzlingly quick.
He was brought to European football by FC Basel, of Switzerland, after a scouting process that included an exhibition match against Egypt’s under-23 international team. It was supposed to be a warmup game ahead of the Olympics, but as their president, Bernhard Heusler, later confessed to Sky Sports:
The only reason we wanted this match was because of the chance to see Mohamed Salah play live. I will never forget what I saw that day on that pitch. … I had never seen a player with so much speed in my entire life.
Of course, speed means nothing in soccer if you can’t use the ball — this is why Usain Bolt’s dream of playing for Manchester United may never come to pass.
That’s what makes the second thing you notice about Salah so important: His speed doesn’t seem to cost him anything. The ball sticks obligingly to his feet, leaving his eyes free to dart around, searching for the right pass or putting himself in the best position to try to score.
Which leads to third thing you notice: Salah’s wonderful finishing ability. There is a calm and quiet precision about his shooting — a precision that looks, in the moment, an awful lot like inevitability.
Salah scores them all. He’ll roll the ball gently into an empty net if the situation demands it. But when the only route to goal is through the spectacular, then he’s more than capable.
Here’s a video of Salah in action:
[embedded content]
Put all of that together and the result is one of the most exciting soccer players in the world.
But while it’s his skill on the pitch that has made him a hero in Liverpool and Egypt, it’s his emergence in Europe at a time when anti-Muslim bigotry is becoming increasingly normalized across the continent that has made him a figure of intense interest.
It has even led people to wonder if his athletic excellence might play some part in combating intolerance.
There is a calm and quiet precision about his shooting — a precision that looks, in the moment, an awful lot like inevitability
Liverpool’s legendary manager Bill Shankly once said, “If you are first, you are first. If you are second, you are nothing.” But the club Shankly once led hasn’t been English champions since 1990, and it’s been a long and at times agonizing period of nothing.
This is a club looking for a hero. A club that has seen other heroes — Steven Gerrard, Luis Suarez — pass through without bringing that elusive Premier League title. Salah hasn’t brought a title yet either, but he carries the promise: Next year will be Liverpool’s year.
You can see this in Salah’s songs and Salah’s T-shirts, and in the rhapsodic smiles Salah provokes on Liverpool faces. There would be a certain entertaining irony if they were led back to the promised land by a man nicknamed the “Egyptian King.”
As Sports Illustrated notes, Liverpool fans even coined a song for Salah sung to the tune of the 1990s pop hit “Good Enough.” The lyrics are, well, not the usual thing you hear in a sports arena:
Mo Sa-la-la-la-lah,
Mo Sa-la-la-la-lah!
If he’s good enough for you,
he’s good enough for me.
If he scores another few,
then I’ll be Muslim too.
If he’s good enough for you,
he’s good enough for me.
Sitting in the mosque,
that’s where I wanna be!
Mo Sa-la-la-la-lah,
Mo Sa-la-la-la-lah!
Salah is the leading star of Egypt’s national team, the Pharaohs, and his popularity in his home country even exceeds his standing in Liverpool.
More than a million people submitted write-in votes for Salah in Egypt’s 2018 presidential election, and while the eventual result — Salah pushed the actual opposition candidate into third place — says little for the plurality of Egyptian democracy, it says plenty for Salah’s popularity.
After Salah’s shoulder was dislocated — accidentally? carelessly? deliberately? — by Real Madrid’s Sergio Ramos in Champions League final on May 26, the outcry across social media was remarkable. One Twitter user joked, “Qataris, Saudis, Emiratis, Kuwaitis, Egyptians, Omanis all cursing Sergio Ramos. Thank you Ramos. You united the whole Arab world.”
Islamophobia isn’t new, and certainly isn’t limited to Britain. But Matthew Feldman of Teesside University in the UK says the country, at this moment, has an “acceptance of anti-Muslim discourse that we would find absolutely noxious if it was about someone from an ethnic minority or other religious background” — a claim that will ring true to anybody familiar with Britain’s public conversation.
Even the Times, revered as the national newspaper of record, recently had to apologize for the “enormous offense” caused when it distorted a story regarding Muslim foster families. Meanwhile the governing Conservative Party is facing calls for an inquiry into the “more than weekly” incidents of Islamophobia within in its membership.
Regardless of the views of bigots, it is perhaps Salah’s significance to other Muslims that is the most heartening consequence of his rise to superstardom
How, then, does a much-loved and widely feted Muslim soccer player fit into this?
Salah is not the only Muslim in the Premier League, or even in Liverpool’s squad, but he is certainly the most high-profile, and, to put it bluntly, he appears the most Muslim to a nation reared on stereotypes. His is a public faith, openly expressed.
Indeed, it’s telling that this conversation is only happening now; British football culture has generally preferred to ignore the Muslims on the pitch.
A recent article in the New York Times quoted Miqdaad Versi, assistant secretary general of the Muslim Council of Britain:
He is someone who embodies Islam’s values and wears his faith on his sleeve. He has a likability. He is the hero of the team. Liverpool, in particular, has rallied around him in a really positive way. He is not the solution to Islamophobia, but he can play a major role.
Not everybody shares this view, though.
Asked by the New Yorker about Salah, Joseph Massad, a historian and modern Arab studies professor at Columbia University, noted that former France captain Zinedine Zidane “received much adulation” within France, “but his fame has not mitigated the ongoing Islamophobia of mainstream French culture, and I strongly doubt that Salah’s fame will in any way decrease the mainstream Islamophobia in British culture.”
As Nikesh Shukla, editor of The Good Immigrant, a book of essays by people of color reflecting on their positions in British society, puts it:
The biggest burden facing people of colour in [Britain] is that society deems us bad immigrants — job-stealers, benefit-scroungers, girlfriend-thieves, refugees — until we cross over in their consciousness [by] winning races, baking good cakes…
Or scoring goals.
Islamophobia, then, ends not with the valorization of exceptional Muslims — who are, by definition, exceptions — but in the acceptance of ordinary Muslims. Whether there is a path to the latter through the former remains to be seen.
And as Asif Sujid has noted at the Conversation, the chant described above “is conditional. The chant makes clear that it is only ‘if’ Salah continues to score goals that his displays of Muslimness will be accepted.”
But regardless of the views of bigots, it is perhaps Salah’s significance to other Muslims that is the most heartening consequence of his rise to superstardom. As the New Yorker’s Yasmine Al-Sayyad puts it:
What stands out to me most about Salah, who is far more conspicuously Arab and Muslim than I am, is that he doesn’t seem concerned with trying to blend into anything. He is simply himself. That, more than anything else he has done on the field, is what I admire most.
So will this brilliant more-than-a-footballer make it to Russia? As mentioned above, Salah left the Champions League final early due to injury and was later diagnosed with a dislocated shoulder. That was on May 26, and the Egyptian Football Association estimated that he’ll be fit again in three weeks.
Egypt’s first World Cup match is against Uruguay on June 15. Salah could very well miss that game. Egypt is being optimistic, but since it’s not favorites to win that game anyway, it might hold him back. But he should be back for Egypt’s second game, against Russia, on June 19.
The fear, in truth, isn’t that Salah will miss the tournament. This is the man who scored the penalty that took Egypt to its first World Cup since 1990 and he’d have to be bedridden not to make it out there in some capacity.
Instead, Egyptian fans worry that Salah simply won’t be himself. By the time he returns, he’ll have missed all of Egypt’s warmup games, and going straight from weeks off to matches against some of the world’s most skilled soccer players will be a monstrously difficult task.
Another comparison with Zidane may be unfortunately apt: France’s inspirational captain was rushed back from injury to appear at the 2002 tournament, yet only played one game, was visibly underpowered, and contributed little as France slumped out of the competition without scoring a single goal.
Let’s assume for a moment that Salah returns and is at, or close to, his best. How far could Egypt go in the World Cup?
The Pharaohs play a cautious brand of soccer. Their priority is to maintain a strong defensive unit, reinforced by the midfield. Salah’s speed therefore becomes a counterattacking weapon: If Egypt’s opponents stray too far forward in their attempts to break down the Egyptian defense, they may leave space behind for Salah to exploit.
The World Cup begins with a group stage, in which four teams play each other once in a round-robin format, with the best two progressing to the next stage. Egypt is in Group A along with host-nation Russia, Saudi Arabia, and Uruguay. The South American team is the favorite to win the group, thanks mostly to their attack, which is led by Barcelona’s Luis Suarez and Paris Saint-Germain’s Edinson Cavani.
Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia is the weakest team in the competition, according to FIFA’s rankings, and should finish in last place.
Much depends, then, on Egypt’s game against Russia. Typically, tournament hosts benefit from the atmosphere and the fact that they are on familiar turf, as well as perhaps the odd lenient refereeing decision or two.
But Russia is an unsettled team and hasn’t won a game since October 7, 2017. Egypt certainly won’t be feeling intimidated.
Should the Pharaohs make it past the hosts, things will get really tricky. The two qualifiers from Group A will face the qualifiers from Group B, expected to be the 2010 winner, Spain, one of the favorites for the tournament; and the Euro 2016 winner, Portugal. As such, reaching the last 16 would represent a good tournament for Egypt. Anything beyond that will be dreamland.
But that’s the true value of Salah. When he’s playing for a team you support, you can’t help but dream.
Original Source -> Soccer star Mo Salah’s massive popularity is changing perceptions of Muslims in the UK
via The Conservative Brief
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Andy Marken on Sundance
Maybe the Problem of Sundance is the Distribution, Not the Content
"My mommy always said there were no monsters. No real ones. But there are." – Ripley, Alien: "Resurrection," Brandywine Productions, 1997
The reason a year seems to pass so quickly is that it starts so darn fast and the only constant is fast, faster and fastest change.
The M&E (media and entertainment) industry took up a lot of attention (and space) at CES – the everything for everyone show.
Even before all the screens, cameras and storage solutions were packed up and shipped home; people were unpacking their skies, parkas, cameras, storage and hopes in Park City, Utah for Sundance, the first huge film festival of 2018.
Studios, cinemas and networks had raised ticket prices, monthly cable fees and ad rates to stay in the black. And they had rehearsed their reasons for the slump in theater attendance and declining home screen eyeball numbers.
Obviously, the downturn wasn't because of sequel fatigue or weak lineup of films/shows.
Of course, it was all because of FAANG (Facebook, Amazon, Apple, Netflix, Google); BAT (Baidu, Alibaba, Tencent); and the insatiable millennial appetite for new/different OTT (over the top) content.
New Beginning – At the opening session at this year's Sundance Film Festival, founder Robert Redford made it abundantly clear that the event would set itself apart from the Hollywood stigma and focus on fostering new and open conversations in the industry.
Back in 1978, the state and city fathers had no idea what they were getting into when Robert Redford, Sterling Van Wagenen, John Earle and Cirina Catania put together a modest, once-a-year event to attract to filmmakers to Utah.
The independent American-made filmmaker testing ground has arguably become the worldwide event for self-made film artists and the place to show off, be seen, explore new creative endeavors/techniques in addition to launching a successful video production career.
This year's Sundance Film Festival had all of that – and more/less.
It set the stage for the broader and more defining/more diverse role films, shows and video content can play in the future.
Stories and talent from under-represented communities found their way to Park City where The Sundance Institute gave them the national/international stage to be seen/heard as well as the chance to be picked up by distributors for an even larger audience.
Institute founder Robert Redford drew a line in the snow on the opening day, saying that the event was moving beyond the Miramax founder. Going forward, the event would provide a platform for filmmakers to examine, air and creatively discuss events of the day. He made his position very clear when he said, "The role for men right now is to listen. To let women's voices be heard and think about it."
But Sundance has typically been ahead of Hollywood in promoting women filmmakers.
Lower, Higher – Slated recently reported that females in the film industry were generally given smaller budgets and lower salaries, even though they brought in greater returns for investors than their male counterparts.
Despite the Sundance focus, there's still a gender disparity with male directors getting nearly three times the number of screens for their projects than females.
While according to Slated, the female ROI (return on investment) is greater, they still get fewer opportunities, resources and lower compensation.
To deliver balance this year, Sundance judges selected projects from 43 female feature-film directors and 42 percent of the short films were directed by females (37 percent of the 122 feature films premiered).
The crop of new films, documentaries and long/short series presented enlightened, bold, humorous, thoughtful and thought-provoking stands on race, gender, history and world issues.
For the indie filmmakers – male or female - the big question was (as always) sales.
The days of brokering deals and hobnobbing with both Hollywood's elite and soon-to-be elite has changed dramatically in recent years.
It reflects the industry change.
It used to be content companies/studios made TV shows and movies and sold them to pay-TV distributors, who sold them to consumers.
With the increase in mergers and the aggressive nature of FAANG and BAT, it's a new landscape.
This year's festival featured 110 films from more than 13,000 submissions from 29 countries, in 14 categories including premieres, docs, indie episodics, shorts and younger lives works.
And while having people cheer and praise your creative work is still high on any indie filmmaker's wish list, so is money.
Major Shifts – With the growing presence of FAANG and BAT competitors and major growth in OTT viewing opportunities, the traditional Hollywood landscape is changing dramatically with significant M&A (merger & acquisition) activity.
Perhaps because of the bloat of overpriced sales in recent years and the growing number of dealmakers and wanna' bes who increasingly attend Sundance, the Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD) panel discussion during the 10-day event was SRO (standing room only).
Hosted by YouTube, even veteran Sundance attendees wanted to pick up new hints from 'How to Get Your Film Out There - The Digital Experts Weigh In' panelists.
The panel session wasn't a roadmap to financial success, but folks were taking lots of notes. That's because indie institutions like Fox Searchlight (acquired by Disney) and Focus Features have seen tough competition emerge in recent years.
The deep-pocketed FAANG and BAT crowd were back again this year with checkbooks and viewing schedules, looking for worldwide streaming rights to content for their subscribers.
At the same time, distributors were cautious this year because so many done-deals had unraveled after filmmakers faced misconduct accusations and high-stakes bidding failed to produce sales at the box office or on the multitude of streaming screens.
Despite the obstacles, distributors came to Sundance because it's a launching pad for titles and a great opportunity for them to discover new movies to acquire and for new filmmakers to work with in the future.
Hope springs eternal!
While diversity and gender issues were in the back of the minds of many attendees and distributors, it didn't hurt that two of last year's biggest entries - "Get Out" and "Mudbound" - were serious Oscar contenders this year.
"Call Me By My Name" also deserved to be mentioned and there were even more recognized in other competitions.
Sundance and the financial winners like to talk about the major deals, even when the content produces nothing but red ink.
While Sundance always features diverse voices; this year, the quality was promoted as being even better and there's nothing like a great crowded screening at the Eccles Theater or at the new 500-seat Ray Theater that featured completely immersive audio, thanks to the inclusion of the Dolby Atmos sound system.
Unique Search – Sony was one of the first to sign a big check for the highly unusual and tense film "Search."
Search is a hard film to explain but it worked for Sony because they picked it up and it makes you feel that they just might have drawn some of it from your family, you.
Shot entirely on computer screens, John Cho's daughter is missing; and over the course of the drama, you see how little he knows about her and what she does. You reflect on your own family and say," Jeezz, I don't have a clue."
It has more twists and turns that keep you guessing and make you feel you should go home, throw away all of the devices in the house and do something weird, like sit down and talk to your family.
Search was one of the few films at Sundance that made you think at Sundance.
While some of the dealmakers called the parade of content "awful," "boring," or just plain "weak," I disagree with the feedback because each had a message a filmmaker had a burning desire to share with the world.
That's damn brave and something the people with the check books wouldn't have the guts to do.
All the dealmakers were looking for some magic, something that would make them a hero to their bosses because it made a boatload of money.
Those miracles only come along once in a blue moon; and even then, most of the distributors only see it in the rearview mirror and by then, it's a little late.
Many of the films had vision and quality and there were even a few that had broad viewer appeal--even if the purchase prices weren't astronomical.
Some buyers were pleased with their festival experiences, arguing that there were many films of vision and quality, even if there were fewer films that had broad appeal.
Getting that global appeal is becoming more difficult as theater tickets continue to rise and distributors toy with simultaneous theater/payTV distribution, international releases and OTT ad-supported viewing.
At the same time, they have to more aggressively combat torrent sites that are hell-bent on stealing from filmmakers, crew, distributors, everyone in the industry.
But this year, all 360-degrees of VR (Virtual Reality) proved it has a decided place in visual storytelling.
After director Alejandro González Iñárritu's VR experience, Carne y Arena, won a special achievement award at the Oscars last year, the technology made a major leap forward in becoming a legitimate artform.
VR Landing – Giving viewers a first-hand and very personal view of the universe that surrounds us, "Spheres" was the first VR film to crack the seven-figure sales mark at this year's Sundance.
That was also shown with hard cash when Spheres – a three-part series that lets you explore the depths of space in VR – sold for a solid seven figures to CityLights. The key now will be getting people to pay to watch.
There are still naysayers who proclaim that VR is just like 3D, a passing fancy.
We asked Andrew Shulkind, an award-winning cinematographer, who stopped by the OWC event at Sundance, about the state of VR.
Shulkind has shot traditional films like The Ritual, The Vault and Panic Room as well as over 40 of the top cinematic VR projects for top brands, studios and sports leagues.
"There are exploratory, definitive pieces like Dinner Party that easily fit into the traditional film festival format," he said, "but then there are super edgy, experimental pieces like Spheres and Dispatch that really lean into the complete potential of what we can do with virtual environments and the efficiencies of AI to deliver both singular and social experiences."
Shulkind, who was at Sundance with Intel and Google showing the near and long-term potential of VR, noted he had taken a work break to check the work of friends at Starbreeze Studios, StarVR and iNK Stories.
New Frontier Highlight – The VR experience of "Hero" gave Starbreeze Studios the opportunity to show people the full potential of VR and personal action/reaction.
"If you want to experience the full potential of VR right now you've got to check out 'The Hero Experience'" Shulkind emphasized. "It's extraordinary and meaningful and exactly what VR should be at this minute."
"For decades, motion pictures were the most refined example of nuanced storytelling. But the interactivity of gaming, with the advances of processor power that allow for hyper-realistic graphics and better shading has created a massive industry that is outpacing the motion picture business and encourages its own brand of nuance. Combine those two powerful legacies with the efficiencies and ubiquity of mobile devices, cloud computing and increasing content spends and you have the makings of a completely new form of expression at levels of immersion never possible. Modern versions of content will require something of the viewer, both from an engagement standpoint, but also in terms of user information. These experiences will be underwritten by the value the user's shared data brings to the platform."
The Hero Experience literally puts users in the danger zone as never before and it is impossible to come out of the experience unchanged. Shulkind added that Hero Experienceand a few other mixed reality projects that tap the talents and storytelling possibility of filmmakers make the experience deeper, richer and constantly changing.
Shulkind doesn't see virtual reality, augmented reality, mixed reality, traditional commercials, or movies as separate verticals. "Cinematic imaging is imaging, no matter how big the screen; and we need to start defining entertainment (or content, if you insist) more broadly to encompass all of these types of storytelling." Meanwhile, he's keeping his feet in both camps, having recently shot content for a Chinese theme park, projects with Intel's volumetric studio, TrueVR and the NFL that was debuted at CES, as well as a Pepsi commercial for the Super Bowl.
Sundance has always been a place for all voices, but it feels especially poignant this year when the contradictions of race and gender inequality are finally coming to light industry–wide.
"Big changes are finally afoot, both in terms of the quality of stories being told and who gets to tell them," he noted. "That goes for content creators and distributors. The splashy parties used to be Miramax and Sony Picture Classics and Fox Searchlight; and now, the biggest parties in the best locations are Oculus, Kickstarter, Google/YouTube, Intel, Imdb.com Netflix, and Amazon. The quality of immersive entertainment doesn't yet match up with the award–winning commercials and movies that we know and love, but that day is coming."
Sundance 2018 may not have been hugely profitable for filmmakers; but then, overnight sensations usually take time to be discovered.
Or, as Ripley said, "I don't know. I'm a stranger here myself."
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