#I’m not the most knowledgeable about power scaling but I hope this answered your question | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wolfofcelestia · 14 days ago

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I really hope this doesn’t bother you, but can you give some tips on choosing protocores and upgrading them? (If you don’t want to answer please don’t feel like you have to, some people get pissed when others ask about protocores for some reason). I’m a Zayne main who joined around late June so my knowledge on protocores are pretty weak; I just put random ones and hope they work. But since I’m advancing more on this game, I want to get serious about the combat. I know how to get them, but I never know which attribute to focus on with the protocores and I struggle to upgrade them and what to upgrade them with so I’m a complete noob at this.

??? I’m sorry if someone got mad at you for asking. This really isn’t a question to get mad about?? It’s totally fine, anon

I’m writing this as a Zayne main who isn’t a whale, so most of my limited 5* cards are not ranked up (with dupes) at all, and most of my stamina comes from free sources. But with the cores I focus on, I’ve gotten to stage 120 on open orbit, stage 140 on Zayne’s orbit, and I get around 25-32 stars in the senior hunter contest (depending on if they have a blue/red stage)

Other people have their own strategies but this is mine, so feel free to experiment with what works for you

First, I want to share a tip about farming for cores because this was implemented fairly recently and it really makes upgrading cores easier

When you're mass farm cores, you'll get a list and from here, you can mark them as trash for upgrade fodder (red circle) or you can lock them so you won't accidentally trash the good ones (blue circle)

When you mark them as trash, they will show up at the top of your list when you go to upgrade your cores, so this is really handy

As for which stat you should prioritize, this varies from person to person. But from my experiences with other games, I prioritize stable attack strength over crit, which can be unpredictable. Even when you build a crit team, it scales from your attack strength, so you'll still need a solid attack to build off of

Each core has a main stat that gets stronger with every upgrade level and four sub stats, one of which randomly upgrades every 3 levels

Since you're fighting against the clock, you'll want to only pay attention to what gives you more offensive power. That means, if I see a core that has a main stat of HP or Defense, it goes into the trash immediately. You don't want to waste your resources on these since you'll get HP and DEF as sub stats on cores that aren't completely offensive anyway

That being said, two types of cores have fixed main stats. The diamonds will always have an HP main stat and the spiky ball will always have an ATK main stat. You can't do anything about these, but you can still look for the offensive stats that you want

My priority list is as follows:

Attack + Attack Bonus

Crit Rate + Crit DMG

DMG Boost to Weakened

Situational offensive stats that change depending on your companion/enemy, like Expedited Energy and Oath Recovery, etc

Ideally, I'd want both ATK and ATK Bonus on the same core. The same could be said with Crit Rate and Crit DMG

While building up my base ATK, look for ATK on main and both ATK and ATK Bonus in their sub stats. If it also has a Crit stat, that's an extra bonus. It's a further bonus if it has DMG Boost to Weakened

Once I have a good base ATK, I look for cores that have either Crit Rate and Crit DMG as their main stats. Depending on how many Crit sub stats you already have, you might not need very many Crit cores

Example:

Right now, I'm running 2 Crit Rate cores and 1 Crit DMG core for my Zayne 140 team. The rest of the cores I'm using have ATK main stats (except for the diamond cores). I'm ALMOST able to kill the boss and the reason why I can't kill it is because my critical hits aren't occurring often enough To fix this, I'm planning on replacing one of my ATK cores with a Crit Rate core, so that I'm running 3 Crit Rate cores on this team So right now, all my stamina goes into farming for a core with a Crit Rate main stat, but I also want to make sure it has ATK stats so my base ATK won't take too much of a hit.

Once you know what your priorities are and what kind of stats you need, you need to figure out which ones to use as fodder

I'm not gonna lie, this is the worst part of cores unless you really like numbers

My method is basically just pick your best ones, equip them to your team, and go through all your cores one by one. It's easier when you go by category and colour (on this page below) so you can test how your stats change when you equip them

Once you've identified your strongest cores, make a mental note of its stats. So when you farm for more cores, you will know if the new ones are better or worse than the ones you already have, and you can mark them as trash or lock them to keep them

I like to save the ones that already have 3/4 of its sub stats so you can already see its potential. But if a core has a sub stat of like ATK 100 and still hasn't gotten all its sub stats, I'd upgrade it a few levels to see how it turns out. If it gets trash stats like HP and DEF, it immediately goes in the trash. If it gets better stats like ATK Bonus and Crit, then I got lucky and found a good core

These are examples of cores that I would give a chance to and upgrade them to level 6 or 9, depending on how much I want to gamble with these. If by level 9, they still have pretty crappy stats, I just trash them

These however, I would trash. The green core has an HP main stat and only has one offensive stat so I don't want to waste resources on that one

The red one has a fairly good ATK stat and would be good if you don't have anything better. But I know that I have red diamond cores with better ATK stats and better offensive stats, so this one doesn't cut it for the stage I'm at right now

Other than that, be sure to save your strongest ATK cores for your ATK cards so you can take advantage of its bonuses

That's all about cores I can think of off the top of my head. I'm sure other people have different priorities, but this is the basis of my strategy

If you have any other questions, feel free to ask!

#love and deepspace #game info

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oldbookist · 3 years ago

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Hi!

Honest question: could you point me towards the specific content delegitimizing E/C in the fandom in recent years? I've seen your posts, and I'm very confused. I joined the fandom over a year ago, and maybe I've curated my space way too well, but I've never seen a single post against the ship. Posts or ships that contradict it? Yeah, of course, but that's just rareship hell (at least their fanon sexualities are compatible, Courfious shippers have to deal with most people headcanoning Marius as straight!). But actively against it? It seems like it was a big issue around 2012, but is it still a thing?

Thank you for taking the time to answer! ^^

i…am not going to dredge up old discourse posts or anon hate, sorry.

but anyway anon, i don’t think it’s due to your curation that you haven’t seen anything, this fandom is remarkably different today than it was in like, 2017, but even then it was not usually overt hate like the enjonine shippers faced. and i guess i can’t really talk about that without getting into the Lore, so:

long ago, the ships lived together in harmony. (well……..relatively speaking.) but everything changed when the 2012 movie came out.

what had once been an extremely niche fandom became very large indeed. exr had been popular on a small scale before, but after 2012 it expanded into a massive Ever Given of ships that blocked all competing ships. even this was not so bad if that was the only change, but what also came to power in this time period was The Modern AU Fanon, which was essentially brand new original fiction that happened to share names with les mis, invented by some popular posts and fanfiction. this basically replaced canon and you were expected to conform to it in the same way.

a little thing about e/c shippers: we have long prided ourselves on our knowledge and adherence to canon. so this did not go over too well for us! and here is where you get things like people telling you prouvaire is canonically nonbinary, and that enjolras/grantaire is canon so it is therefore homophobic to ship him with anyone else. so sure, their fanon sexualities were theoretically compatible, but in practice? hahaha no.

i don’t really think i can stress enough how mindblowingly bizarre this period of fandom was.

i’m talking about, it was extremely controversial to simply state that enjoltaire wasn’t canon. you would get harassed for that.

unlike enjonine, we were never really big enough to warrant getting hate in our sad little ship tag, there were like 10< people making content for it. so what harassment we got was more for having the audacity to ship something other than exr. and that’s what the whole emphatically platonic e/c thing is about, people could not comprehend enjolras being in a romantic relationship with anyone but grantaire, so we were ignored or minimized. (basically, when we’d post about it you’d frequently have someone commenting about how much they loved their ✨friendship✨ and let me tell you that really starts to grate over time.) like well, you can have it but ONLY if it’s platonic. well enjolras’s REAL partner is grantaire actually.

imagine i went around reblogging exr posts like “wow they’re such good friends, #platonic superhusbands” that’d be a dick move wouldn’t it!

so if you weren’t here, it is really hard to explain how fucking weird it was. i’m glad you don’t know! over the past year or so, for reasons i do not understand, this fandom has shifted dramatically towards being more canon-centric and also much more tolerant of dissenting headcanons and ships. (which is awesome.) so i also thought maybe all this was a thing of the past, but seeing the reactions to my recent posts, maybe not yet.

hope this explains some of it, or at least why e/c shippers tend to be very touchy about “sappho and her friend”-ing the ship.

#wrote a lot more than i intended here #asks

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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one hell of a mandalorian {din djarin}

summary: actions speak louder than words - which is good for din djarin, because he's not very good at words. (this was a commission for an anon! i hope you enjoy).

warnings: language

enjoy!! if you're interested in commissions, you can find out more here :)

- jazz xx

Din Djarin was a man of few words.

That had become clear not long after you'd met.

It wasn't that he didn't like talking, or that he was rude - he'd just never had the need for it. The Mandalorian could spend days and days in hyperspace, on his own with nothing but a frozen bounty to keep him company. And they were hardly chatty, even before they were thrown away into the trawling depths of carbonite animation. There were a few select geniuses who tried to make conversation with him in a last-ditch attempt to appeal to his humanity and beg for mercy, but so far, they'd had a zero-for-zero success rate. It wasn't that he didn't have any humanity to appeal to it - because he did, and his weird, green surrogate kid was an absolute testament to that - but it just took a little bit for it to come out.

The beskar made him seem a little...robotic. Like a droid, which was ironic, because he wouldn't have gone near the things with a ten-foot-barge pole. Din had just become so used to people seeing his mask and his intimidating posture before him that having human traits, like feelings and thoughts and opinions, had never been any use. Having defining traits and a personality was all well and good, but nothing helped you through the galaxy quite like the ability to put the fear of God in people.

The Mandalorian was something, but Din Djarin was somebody. He was good; not necessarily pure and golden-hearted like a typical comic book hero, but he had a strong moral compass. Sometimes, it pointed in opposite directions, but he helped those who needed it and he paid his dues. That was probably a lot more than anyone in the galaxy could have said for themselves. In the fight of good and bad, in a world that existed entirely and black and white, there was nothing more grey than an honest man. Somebody who refused to pick a side held the power of both. For that, Din could have either been extremely smart, or extremely dumb.

Sometimes, he was extremely dumb. Made the wrong moves in combat, or got too cocky, however out of character it was for him. It was the losing fights that truly brought out the human side of Din, and it took a very, very specific eye to see it, sometimes to the point where even he missed it. It never went over your head, though.

You'd joined the crew on the Razor Crest as a mechanic - then you became a baby sitter, and his partner-in-crime, and the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend. His non-verbal nature meant that most of his emotional cues came in the physical form. It went over the heads of everybody else, but between your intuition, and the time spent in such a cramped space, it quickly became like a second language to you. Helmet tilts when he was confused, and little nods when he was pleased; tensed shoulders when the Mandalorian was nervous and balled fists when he was about to absolutely lose his shit.

Today was one of those days. Even though you were both in one piece and the baby was - by some absolute fucking miracle - asleep, it almost hadn't been that way. Nevarro had been quieter than usual, and Din had let his guard down; finally convinced himself to relax a tiny bit and ever-so-slightly loosen the stick that was firmly up his backside. His sudden lack of awareness for your surroundings had meant that someone managed to track the Crest, however briefly. The kid had barely noticed, and you weren't phased by what had been a simple, human mistake. Din, true to nature, was already beating himself up for it.

That was evidenced by his heavy footsteps, and the way he'd immediately retreated to the cockpit and slammed the door. Common sense would have entailed that he wanted to be left alone, but you'd long surpassed the point of any of that. Common sense didn't exist in a galaxy like this one. Doing the obvious thing was, nine times out of ten, usually the wrong way. Expecting the unexpected was the right way to go.

You'd paced outside the door for the better part of fifteen minutes - to go in, or to not go in, that was the question. You were torn between wanting to give Din space and wanting to be there for him; a cranky Din was often an unbearable one, but you cared deeply for him. Maybe a little too much, but that was a can of worms to open later.

"Din?" You gently called. Nothing. "I know you're brooding, or whatever it is you do under that helmet, but talking is good."

"I'm fine."

You sighed. "The scale goes great, good, bad, awful, world-ending and then fine."

"I've never heard that before in my life."

"Yeah, I just made it up on the spot." You murmured.

Resting your hand against the doorknob, you pondered for a moment. Did you want to risk it by going in? Making him mad when he was literally shutting you out? It was hard to know what to do with Din - it wasn't like he came with an answer key, or even a vague manual that could point you in the right direction. It was all just guess work.

"Is the helmet on?" You softly asked.

"Yeah."

You took that as a sign - with a deep breath, you gently opened the door and stepped inside the cockpit, shutting it quietly behind you. The tense atmosphere inside was almost enough to swallow you whole. The man practically radiated angst.

"Talk to me." You took a seat beside him.

"There's nothing to say."

"Bullshit." You murmured. "You might have a thousand inches of beskar hiding your face but your body language is a dead giveaway."

"I'm meant to protect you and the kid." He replied. It wasn't much, but it was better than silence. "It's my job to catch bad people and outrun them when I need."

"You did outrun them." You reminded him. "I'm safe. You're safe. The kid is safe. Does anything else matter?"

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place." Din said. "I was relaxed-"

"- you allowed to relax." You cut him off. "Despite your best efforts, you're a human being."

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand over Din's ungloved palm. He didn't resist or try to brush you away. His hands were soft and callous in equal measures, which felt like a fitting metaphor for him on the whole. You tangled your fingers in his and held on tightly, perhaps in a sad attempt to remind him that you were there.

But Din knew you were there - he could feel it constantly, and he thought about it just as much. Every day of his life prior to you had been filled with rigidity and angst, then you'd come waltzing in and for the first time in years, he'd untensed his muscles and stopped looking over his shoulder. Learnt to take a breath and enjoy the simple things in life, like Grogu laughing or you accidentally tripping over a tree branch. You'd become so important to him that the prospect of losing you was too much for him to even fathom. He'd come close today - too close - and it had been an eye-opener. The irony was that telling you why he was so fucking scared was more frightening than the entire thing itself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." The gentle pull of your voice lulled him back to reality. "Please?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You breathily smiled. "You don't have to apologise."

"I never thought I'd have someone like you." Din admitted. "Coming so close to losing you was terrifying, even if it wasn't that close at all."

He'd never been so open about his feeling towards you before. Obviously, you knew that he viewed you in a way he didn't see anybody else, but that knowledge had been based entirely on physical cues and mere guesswork. You'd never expected him to vocalise the way he felt, or even acknowledge them. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, or even something you considered to be detrimental. The words came as a nice surprise.

"You mean a lot to me, Din." You said. He'd always loved the way his name sounded when you said it; nobody had used it for years, not since he'd lost his parents. It was something to vulnerable and personal. You were the only one he trusted with it.

"I do?"

You didn't mean to laugh at that - you really didn't, but it just came out. A low snort of disbelief; shock at his absolute inability to read the fucking room. Din was as intuitive as they came, with the ability to read criminals like a bedtime story he'd been rehearsing since he was a kid. Then it came to you, and he knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. To call him clueless would be the understatement of the century.

"Maker." You murmured. "Of course you do - more than anyone or anything."

"You're special to me." Din replied. "It scares me sometimes."

Din was straight forward with everything he said - it was just finding the courage to say it. He'd gone into battle with Imps and Republic Rangers alike; fought krayt dragons and droids and fellow Mandalorians and yet this entire thing shook him to his very core more than anything else.

You didn't know it, but you were perfectly holding his gaze. Staring right through it and looking right into his soul. He forgot he had one sometimes. It was probably a little dusty and covered in cobwebs, but it was there, and you were bringing it right out of him and back to reality.

Din used his grip on your hands to pull you a little closer - a moment later, he gently pressed the cold metal of his helmet to his forehead. It was the closest you'd ever been to him, even if it wasn't that close at all. You could hear his soft breathing through the modulator, the sensation acting as a stunning reminder that there was a person underneath there. There were times when you forgot, or felt a little disconnected from the idea entirely. You'd never felt the need to see his face, though - you hadn't a clue what he might look like, but at the same time, you had an image of him in your head. It was as clear as day; as bright as the suns on Tatooine and as persevering as the kid's insistence that he receive all your attention, all the time.

You knew what the action was; a Keldabe kiss. The Mandalorian had recounted its meaning to you not long after you'd met - he'd finally let his barriers down and let you plague him with questions about his culture and the creed, and you'd stumbled on the subject. Initially, you'd been entertained by the fact that it two such vastly different meanings. On one hand, it could be a headbutt. A beskar punch to knock the daylights out of anyone who particularly annoyed you. On the other hand, it was almost a romantic gesture; a way that Mandalorians could show their affection to one another without having to remove their armour.

Din had the latter meaning in mind, but also so much more. He was giving you a piece of his culture - including you in the very thing that defined him as a person.

"It won't happen again." The Mandalorian gently said. "I'll never let you get hurt again. I promise."

"I know." You softly smiled. Your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of the cool metal against your forehead. "For what it's worth, I have your back too."

He softly chuckled. "Thank you."

You gently pulled back, eyes meeting again (not that you could tell).

"Seriously!" You said. "I can be a bad-ass."

"You can be a lot of things." Din replied. "You're one hell of a girl."

"And you're one hell of a Mandalorian."

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem! reader #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian imagines #mandalorian fluff #din djarin fluff #star wars x reader #star wars characters #star wars x you #star wars imagines

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writerbyaccident · 4 years ago

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Fallen into Fantasy: Part Two (Yandere Dragon Shifter! Dabi vs. Enji Todoroki x Reader)

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

You had never realized that shackles could be so beautiful.

Even in the dim light of the cave, they sparkled in ways that you had never seen before, a mix of gold, silver, and countless jewels that threatened to blind you if you gazed at them for too long. And yes, only the golden chain around your ankle anchored to the stone wall was a true shackle, but the rest might as well have been, for the way that they weighed you down. Dozens upon dozens of rings, bracelets, and necklaces had been placed on you, threatening to send you crashing to the floor underneath the strain. Enji though either didn’t notice or didn’t care, adding more and more jewelry onto you with the proud, self-satisfied look of someone who was taking excellent care of their most prized possession.

That was what you were, you supposed, a valued treasure for Enji to hoard. Despite the intrigue of you being from another world, at the end of the day you were simply a human, nowhere near powerful enough for a dragon shifter like your captor to consider treating like an equal. Rather than be frustrated or disappointed with your helplessness though, Enji relished it. He loved the feeling of holding your fragile body against his, loved being able to frighten you into behaving with just a hint of his claws. But most of all, he loved knowing that you would have been doomed in this world without him.

“Enji,” you said quietly, careful to use his given name as he preferred you to, as opposed to the title of Endeavor that the world knew him as. “Don’t you think that’s enough?”

His searing blue eyes narrowing down at you, Enji frowned at your presumption that you knew better than him. Although you flinched at his expression, you were grateful that he was currently in his human form, knowing that if he had been in his dragon form, your question would have been met with a huff of flames that, while never actually reaching you, would have come far too close for comfort.

“You are my mate,” Enji reminded you with a growl. “The mate of the dragon king. And therefore, you must be dressed as such.”

“You’re going hunting though, you won’t even see me.”

“Even while I am gone, I wish to know that you are properly adorned. We haven’t physically mated yet, so my claiming scent on you is weak. By honoring you by decorating you in the treasures of my hoard, I am showing the world that you are mine. And no one will dare to touch what is mine.”

“But surely no one is going to dare to sneak into your home,” you answered, knowing even after less than a week with Enji that it was always a good idea to play to his ego.

“Of course not,” he agreed. “But if another of my kind comes to see me on urgent business, I’d rather not have them think that they can taste what belongs to me. Unless you would prefer finally mating?” He asked the question with a hungry smirk, reaching out to caress your cheek with his enormous hand, slowing gliding it down your neck all the way to your hips, where he stroked your skin in soothing circles. Your eyes wide, you shook your head in silent desperation, wondering as he leaned down towards you if this would be the time that he wouldn’t listen to you.

“Well, until later then,” he murmured in your ear, brushing his lips against the crook of your neck. You stayed frozen until he moved away, though you didn’t dare look away from him. Smirking at the way you were gazing at him, Enji slipped off his signet ring, storing it away in his usual hiding spot for his hunting excursions. He began to walk away, only to turn back to you, nearly swallowing your hand with his own and softly kissing the inside of your wrist.

With that, Enji stalked off through the cave tunnel, growing even larger, wings unfurling, and scales appearing all over him. You watched the transformation in a mixture of wonder and horror, still not used to the change even after seeing it so many times already. By the time he turned the corner, Enji was once again the crimson dragon that you had first caught a glimpse of. A second later, you heard the telltale sound, almost like rhythmic thunderclaps, of him taking to the skies to hunt for the dinner you would share tonight.

As soon as you heard him leave, you sighed, letting your head rest against the stone wall and just staring up at the ceiling. You knew by now that he would be gone for hours, leaving you all alone with nothing to distract yourself with. His previous hunts had left you so starved for diversion that you had begun counting the jewels and coins strewn all over the floor just for something to do. Even that wasn’t enough to keep you from silently rejoicing each time Enji arrived back home though, as ashamed as you were to admit it. You couldn’t really help it though, not when the dragon shifter was the only company you had. He was the only other living creature you had spoken to since stumbling your way into this world, and while you might deny it to his face, Enji was right when he reminded you how helpless you were, how much you depended on him. Even without the shackle keeping you chained to the wall that would be true, considering that the cave you had been brought to was over halfway up a mountain. With the way he had been acting today though, you weren’t sure if him rushing back home was what you wanted.

When Enji had first flew you back to his cave, you had been surprised to hear him say that he would officially mate with you only when you were ready. He certainly hadn’t been thinking about your consent when he had taken you in his talons and dragged you to his home against your will. You had said as much to him, only for Enji to patiently inform you that humans were just so delicate, so fragile, that you mate with you before you were ready would be far too dangerous. He didn’t want a broken shell of a mate, after all. But, you realized as you remembered the way he had kissed your neck and the soft skin of your wrist, Enji didn’t necessarily need your permission for him to decide that you were ready.

Your frenzied thoughts were interrupted though, as you heard the unmistakable sound of claws and scales scraping against stone. It couldn’t have been more than an hour since Enji had left, was he really back already? It didn’t take him very long to find enough food for you, but finding enough for himself was a different story, usually taking several hours. Perhaps he forgot something, or maybe he had gotten lucky. Whatever the reason, the roiling pit of emotion in your gut was mixed, one part of you glad that you weren’t alone anymore, and another part of you fearful that you would no longer be able to avoid what Enji wanted from you. But as the sound came closer, you realized that it didn’t sound quite like Enji. The footsteps, while still heavy enough to have the jewels and coins rattle across the floor, were lighter than your captor’s. And the raking of scales against the cave floor was somehow smoother than usual, less like the steady march of Enji and more like a slither. Curling up against the wall, you hoped was right when he said that being covered in items of his hoard would keep any other dragons from daring to touch you.

Any remaining hope you had that it was the devil you knew disappeared once and for all when the dragon came into view, his scorched black scales a far cry from Enji’s blood red ones. Although, you thought distantly as you watched from the corner of the vast cave, this dragon’s burning blue eyes were certainly similar. Said dragon didn’t even seem to notice you though, his eyes gazing only at the treasure filling the cave. As he slithered inside, you saw that even though he wasn’t as huge as Enji, more svelte than bulky, he was still very large. Though, honestly, considering that you had no frame of reference for what the average size of a dragon was, for all that you knew, this one could be considered extremely undersized. Despite your lack of knowledge though, you were still pretty sure that dragons didn’t usually wear massive saddlebags on their backs.

But the reason for the saddlebag’s presence became clear soon enough, when the strange dragon made his way to a particularly large pile of jewels and began shoveling dragon-sized handfuls into his bag.

“He won’t even miss this stuff,” you heard the dragon mumble to himself. “Asshole doesn’t deserve this treasure anyway.”

Seeing that this stranger was hardly a loyal subject of the dragon king who had claimed you as his mate, you sat as still as you possibly could, hoping that he would leave without ever noticing you. When the dragon gave a sudden sniff and stiffened though, you knew that it was too late. He had caught your scent.

“Well, well, well,” the dragon chuckled, turning around quickly for something so large, “what do we have here? A pretty little human that the mighty dragon king Endeavor is saving for a midnight snack, one flavored with the scent of another world?” Pinned under the dragon’s piercing blue stare, you weren’t sure if it would be better for you to correct him or to stay silent. But he didn’t give you the chance to choose, not when he noticed the all of the jewelry that you were practically drowning in, jewelry that all bore Enji’s scent.

“Oh, not a meal at all then. A new little mate for his shithead majesty. I guess I can expect you to tell him exactly what happened while he was gone then.”

“Not at all,” you answered in a sudden moment of inspiration. “Go right ahead, I won’t tell him shit.”

“Oh really? And why should I believe you?” he scoffed.

“Because I’m hardly a fan of Enji,” you said, lifting up your shackle for the dragon to see.

“So he’s picked another less than willing mate,” the dragon growled. “That seems to be a habit with him.”

“Yeah, so, anything I can do to get back at him in some way, I’ll try.”

“A human after my own heart, and such a cute one too. I’m Dabi; what’s your name, sweetheart?”

Telling him your name, you pointed over towards the shining golden throne just a few yards away. “You know,” you told him, “if you really want to piss Enji off, pull off that sapphire on the head of the throne.”

Tilting his head in contemplation, searching for any sign of a lie or a trick in your eyes, Dabi bared his pointed teeth in what you assumed was supposed to be a smile before moving towards the throne, running his dark claws over it cautiously. When he finally deemed it safe, Dabi scratched at the sapphire, only to realize that his claws were too large and unwieldy for the task. Too curious now to just give up, Dabi shook off his draconian form, growing smaller, his wings retracting, and scales vanishing until he stood before you as a human. Even in this form, his scorched scales were still present, only now as wide-reaching burn scars covering his otherwise pale skin. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, you had to admit that Dabi made a handsome man. As if he could sense your thoughts, Dabi turned back to face you for a moment, winking at you with a smirk.

Once he successfully pulled out the sapphire, Dabi stayed silent for a moment, staring at the signet ring that had fallen into his hand. You were an extraordinary human, weren’t you? Dabi wasn’t impressed easily, but your move had left him with no choice. Chuckling to himself, he turned back around, stalking towards you with his long leather jacket flowing menacingly until he was towering over you, gazing at you with amusement and something darker in his eyes.

“Now that’s ballsy,” he grinned. “You’re certainly something, aren’t you?”

“I’d hope so,” you said, trying your best to smile back confidently at him. “Seeing how I’ve helped you out, what do you think about returning the favor?”

“Depends, what could a pampered little pet possibly want from me?”

“I want you to get me out of these shackles and fly me out of Enji’s territory,” you answered.

“That’s all? You don’t want me to help you find your way home?” Dabi asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“I didn’t think you could help me with that. Can you?”

“I’m afraid not,” he sighed exaggeratedly. “I am more than happy, however, to get you out of the territory of a dragon so undeserving of you.”

With that, Dabi grasped the golden chain of your shackle, and a moment later, both his hand and the chain were wreathed in searing blue flames, melting the metal until it dripped onto the floor, freeing you from the cave wall. Nearly laughing in relief, you failed to notice the flash of greed in Dabi’s eyes as he stared you, the way he so tightly grasped your remaining chain.

“Thank you so much!” you gasped in wonder. “Do you think you could get rid of the rest of the chain and the shackle around my ankle?”

“I don’t have control that fine,” Dabi lied smoothly.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’m just glad to be able to move again.”

“I’m sure you are. Now we should get going, there’s no telling when Endeavor will be back.”

“Right,” you agreed. “You can just fly me to the forest east of here. That’s where I came into this world, so I might be able to find my way home from there.”

Rather than nod in understanding as you expected him to, Dabi simply scoffed coldly, reaching out to rest his hand on the back of your neck and pull you close, so that you were pushed up against his chest.

“Oh, but that wasn’t the deal, sweetheart. I said I’d fly you out of Endeavor’s territory, I didn’t say shit about where I’d take you instead.”

“What are you talking about? Where the hell are you going to take me?”

“You’re just far too fascinating to be wasted on Endeavor or on whatever backwater realm you came from. You need a real male to take care of you,” Dabi purred in your ear. “And I think I’m just the guy for the job.”

Before you could even attempt to run, Dabi was shifting back into his dragon form, his unwieldy claws wrapping around you tightly, leaving you without even an inch to move. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake as Enji, Dabi thought to himself, he wouldn’t leave you with even the slightest freedom, the slightest chance to escape. And so, Dabi ran out of the cave, leaping from the mountain ledge and unfurling his wings, flying away with you securely trapped in his claws.

Whimpering, you closed your eyes so that you wouldn’t have to look at the fatal drop that awaited you if Dabi suddenly changed his mind, though that couldn’t block out the sensation of the wind whipping around you.

“Take a good look, sweetheart, cause this is the last of the outside world you’re gonna see for a very long time,” Dabi roared above the wind. Before you could try to answer though, before you could even decide what kind of answer you wanted to give, another roar met your ears, one that sounded awfully familiar.

Twisting around as best you could while grasped in Dabi’s claws, you spotted a familiar crimson mass flying towards you, growing exponentially larger by the second. Your current captor saw Enji too though, and as the dragon king dove for the thief who had dared to claim his most precious treasure as his own, Dabi swerved out of the way, taking advantage of his more lithe form, and called out behind him, “Careful, now, Endeavor. Another move like that and you might just hurt my mate.”

“Give me my mate back now,” Enji thundered, “and I will let you live.”

“Oh, but what’s even the point of living if I no longer have my mate?” Dabi laughed, gripping you even tighter as he flew lower, almost skimming the treetops of the forest.

“This is your last warning!”

“You think I give a shit about your warnings?” he yelled. “I never do, and I care about them even less when I’ve got such a beautiful little treasure to carry home.”

At those words, all restraint that Enji had was broken, and he barreled into Dabi at full force. The loosening of Dabi’s claws was inevitable then, though he still roared in fury as soon as he felt you leave his grip. With the momentum pushing him and Enji away though, neither dragon was able to catch you as you fell towards the trees, your mind giving way to darkness.

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opbackgrounds · 5 years ago

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Hi there Sarc' ;) I am sorry if the question has already been asked but I thought it could be interesting to have your opinion about this. While I love most of the female characters in OP and think that most of them are well developed and can be truly good role models for girls I still feel that Oda sometimes has a sexist view on female characters (the jokes about the naked bath scenes for example or Kororo being considered ugly make me really uncomfortable). What do you think about it?

Ah, I wondered when I would get this question.

When people talk about sexism in One Piece they typically are referring to two different things: How women are drawn, and how they’re treated within the narrative. While there’s some overlap here, there’s enough distinction that I want to address them as two separate points in two separate posts, because I guess I had Opinions, and by god there should be a limit to how much text one tumblr post can be expected to hold. Consider this an introduction.

Buckle up, kiddos. This is gonna be a long one.

Nami Face Syndrome Isn’t the Problem...

An important thing to remember with Oda’s art and storytelling style is that almost everything is hyper exaggerated for effect. You don’t go into One Piece looking for realism. You don’t go into One Piece expecting the characters to act like normal people. Everything--from the art to the humor to the battles--is stretched and pulled to its absolute limit in hopes of garnering a particular reaction. When a character is sad they cry big bubbly tears with dribbles of snot coming from their nose. When they laugh their mouths take up half their face.

And when a girl is hot, her tiddies are two great big watermelons stuck to the center of her chest.

What is often dubbed “Nami Face Syndrome” within the fandom is somewhat misleading. After all, why was Wanda, who is a literal dog that walks on two legs, decried as yet another Nami clone at her introduction? I would postulate it’s less to do with her face and more to do with the fact that from the neck down they are virtually identical, something that’s made more obvious because Wanda is literally wearing Nami’s clothes

What makes this frustrating for a lot of people, myself included, is that it’s not that Oda is incapable of drawing more diverse body types, but that he often chooses not to. Take for example the Kuja tribe

or the Charlotte family daughters (thanks to Arthur at Library of Ohara for the resource). It’s pretty clear Oda has the chops to make his women as weird as the men, and he often does! For important characters, even. And yes, as the Kokoro example given above sometimes the gonkness is brought attention to, but for others like Lola and Chiffon it’s...not.

(more on mermaids later)

But Sarcasticles, one might protest, even Oda’s “ugly” characters have ginormous boobs! Where is my itty bitty titty committee representation >:(

To which I can only shrug. For Oda, boobs on a woman are like abs on men. It doesn’t matter if it makes sense, they’re gonna have ‘em

Seriously, Oda. What the fuck.

...So What Is?

I have a theory that’s impossible to prove, and that the problem isn’t so much Oda’s character design so much as the ratio of his male to female characters in general. It’s not that every female character is a Nami clone, but Oda has a template he uses for attractive female characters ages 16-25, the same way he uses Robin as a template for attractive women ages 26-35, which is how you get cases of mistaken identity like Viola for Robin or scenes during Reverie where one could be forgiven for thinking Nami’s supposed to be an identical triplet

Oda does this for his men, too. It’s not as obvious because 1) Even men with similar facial features can have a wider variety body types due to Oda having a sliding scale of buffness he’s willing to attach to a pretty face and 2) There are more men.

There are a lot more men.

In groups where the male to female ratio is more or less equal (Baroque Works, Big Mom’s kids) you get a wide variety of designs. But there’s only one female Supernova. There’s one female Warlord. CP9 only has one female agent. Only one of the Revolutionary Commanders is a woman. There are very few female background characters in crowd shots, especially among marines. Big Mom might be the only female Emperor, but she’s not young, In fact, when drawing her at age 28, Oda defaults to a much more generic “pretty girl” face before giving her much more striking, memorable features in her 40s

If you look at Oda’s male characters, the ones that are supposed to be hot are often given the same square jawline and the thin-bladed nose that at one point in time was reserved for Robin. Both Coby and Sabo had very distinctive noses before their glowups, while Ace must have had a laser treatment done on his eyebrows sometime between Alabasta and Marineford.

But the biggest difference on the men has got to be muscle mass. The overgrown noodles of early One Piece are lost to the annals of time. Shanks alone must have gained 30 pounds of pure muscle from the time Luffy got his first bounty to his appearance at Marineford.

Now, I will acknowledge that there is a difference between the increasing sexualization of female characters and the male power fantasy of giving Zoro bara tiddies post-timeskip. While I do think there are certain male characters specifically designed to be the Hot Dude, what I’m trying to emphasize here is that Oda works with templates for both men and women, and both of those templates have been exaggerated over time. Bigger boobs for women, more muscles for men. And when you’re only slotting for one girl in any given group, and that one girl has to be The Hot One then you’re going to have a lot of ladies that end up looking the same.

My love for Otohime on this blog is well known, and I want to use her as an example of what Oda can do when he works beyond this template, because it’s really freaking good

Otohime is neither conventionally attractive nor gonk. She’s dressed in very conservative, traditional clothing and has a narrow waist and small chest.

There are no sharp edges on Otohime. Not her eyebrows, not her jaw, and most of the time not even her hands, emphasizing her gentle nature. You don’t see it as well in this panel, but Otohime’s head is often drawn wider than her shoulders, emphasizing her frailty. Oda gives her a longer neck to compensate, and the overall effect is a very soft, willowy figure.

Her headpiece looks like a sunburst. The audience never sees her fins, so Oda gives her a scale patterned kimono-dress-thingy (my knowledge of Japanese clothing is, uh, not good) as a visual reminder that she’s not human. The sash that circles around her head harkens back to Japanese mythology as a symbol of divinity, similar to a halo in Western culture. And fun fact: Otohime is named after a god, just like Neptune, while her goals and ideals are pure enough to be heaven-sent.

I’m not an artist, but this is a really damn good character design. A lot of Oda’s older female characters are. Dandan, Tsuru, O-Tsuru, Shakky, Kureha, Big Mom, and Nyon are all instantly recognizable and have strong designs, even if a few of them fall into the hourglass figure that Oda often defaults to. It’s just...there aren’t that many of them.

So the question becomes why aren’t there more women, and I think the answer is because, ultimately, One Piece is a series geared at boys. While I wish there were a few more important ladies, I can understand why there aren’t.

Note, that doesn’t mean I think it’s right or that Oda is obligated to include more women. It’s just one of the facts of the shonen manga industry at this point in time.

A more important question, I think, is why does every younger woman have to be attractive? And why do the attractive ladies have to wear outfits that are blatant fanservice? This is something I don’t have an answer for. Oda has said on more than one occasion that he writes One Piece with his twelve year old self in mind. It could be that it’s a calculated move to appeal to his audience, in which case it’s certainly worked because said Hot Ladies are constantly used in marketing and merchandising. It’s the Hot Ladies that top the popularity charts (although, to be fair, who’s there for competition?). In the most recent chapter a new Hot Lady was introduced, and the fandom went batshit crazy for her.

Even the fans who are very vocal about how Oda sucks at drawing women. It’s interesting how that works out sometimes.

Or maybe I’m giving Oda too much credit, and he’s just horny. Not having direct access to Oda’s mind, I don’t have an answer. If I had to guess I’d say it’s a little of Column A, a little of Column B, because that’s usually how life is.

But in a vacuum big tiddies are just a design choice. An exaggerated aesthetic, in a series full of exaggerated aesthetics. It’s when that design choice is paired with in-story comments, actions, and decisions where things really start to get heated. But that’s a whole other ball of wax, and there should be a limit to how much one tumblr post can be expected to hold. I promise I’ll get to the meat of your question next time.

Thank you so much for your patience. I really do think it’s important to start here before diving into everything else, if only because it helps keep my thoughts organized. I hope you’ve found this helpful, and if not, I hope to do better next time.

#long post #dear lord what a long post #Character Design #one piece #I don't know why tumblr fucked up with the formatting of my answer #but I apologize in advance #sexism #sarc talks

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slugtranslation-hypmic · 4 years ago

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important question that's been bugging me for a while. since hypmic plays in a female powered society.. does that make everything like..our world but reverse? so that guys are more often oppressed and girls are more likely to be predators, taking what happened to hifumi (like men are more likely to us) and stuff like that? (or like if we imagine everything genderbent and apply our society to that) sorry I hope this is not too triggering. love your work!

This is a delicate question. I am going to put my answer below a cut. Topics included: sexual predators, misogyny, assault, kidnapping, the mistreatment of male sexual assault victims

I don’t think that I’m necessarily the best person to answer this or examine this. I’m not educated enough in this particular topic. However, I have tried to give it as much thought and respect as I can.

The Question of Female Predators

This is a very complex topic. Female predators are already not uncommon in the world we live in, so I guess the question of whether there would be more or less female predators depends on what factors contribute to people becoming a predator.

I could be entirely wrong about this, but I think one factor that causes a lot of fear of being preyed upon is the size difference between most AMAB people and AFAB people. Obviously, there are millions of exceptions to this rule, but AMAB people generally tend to be taller, more muscular, and broader than AFAB people. The majority of AMAB people are also men (whereas the majority of AFAB people are women), so on average, an altercation between an untrained man and an untrained woman is not likely to end in the woman’s favor. This isn’t going to change in the world of Hypnosis Mic.

It’s the societal factors that would change. The Center for Hope and Safety says, “A sexual offender generally believes he is better than other people and so does not have to follow the rules that ordinary people do.” This is a stance the Party of Words elevates. The Party constantly practices “othering” and promotes themselves as an elite group. Only they are allowed to enter a certain area. Only they are allowed to write the name of their ward in kanji, whereas every other location must use the foreign-looking katakana. ARB events frequently feature Party members shoving characters around from place to place with no explanation, as questions are not allowed. Only the Party can know what’s going on. Using this as a guideline, I think it’s very possible for predators already within the Party to use this as an excuse for being a predator. “Men are worthless, so I can abuse them.”

You could argue that the Party is founded on the principles of safety for women and non-violence, but the Party is also very hypocritical. Its promises of safety are only for the party itself; it puts on painful gladiator battles to turn a profit and purposefully cause infighting to keep the Party safe. Ramuda even suggests (and I have no reason to disbelieve him) in TDD 12 that they have a stockpile of weapons as well. The Party doesn’t care for anything but itself and staying in power.

So yes, predators within the Party are probably more likely to abuse their power, but would the shift towards a female-dominated society create more female predators? That’s a much harder question to answer. I am not remotely equipped to speak on what causes someone to become a predator. I do, however, think that societal norms can enable predators or foster mindsets of fright against certain groups.

In the world that we live in, it is very possible for men in certain areas to sexually assault or otherwise mistreat a woman and be applauded by their communities. Think of online communities such as “The Red Pill” or “Men Going Their Own Way”. Such communities believe that women deserve this mistreatment, and while these are very extreme examples, this same mindset permeates a lot of global societies. Even on a small scale, a lot of men tend to make casual sexist comments because we were raised with the notion of this being socially appropriate. And there’s the issue - it’s inappropriate, but it’ll continue to be socially appropriate as long as we don’t continue to challenge ourselves, challenge our friends, and raise our children with better standards of accountability and respect. These social changes do not happen in the blink of an eye, and I highly doubt that a single three years with the Party of Words in power would change that.

Similarly, a lot of girls in our societies are taught (both consciously and subconsciously) to defer to their male peers or even to fear men in positions of power. Once again, unlearning this and teaching future generations more positive standards does not happen overnight. I doubt that most women in the Hypmic universe are able to make radical shifts of thinking and acting over the course of three years. Furthermore, I doubt that many men are really taking the Party’s misandristic words to heart. None of the main characters seem particularly bothered by Ichijiku calling them barbarous fools on the regular; it’s an annoyance, sure, but that’s it. We’d have to see the Party in power for a much longer time to witness any large societal changes.

Additionally, the world inside Chuuouku and the world without are quite different. While Chuuouku boasts state-of-the-art architecture and technology, the rest of Japan gets by like normal, if perhaps in a bit shabbier fashion than to be expected for this futuristic world. Men and women seem to still fit into stereotypical gender roles in much the same way that they do today. Doppo’s bosses are all men; the majority of doctors we see are men, and the nurses tend to be women. While some of Jirou’s female classmates seem to be especially assertive, male and female students get along in the same way as we would expect to see in our world. Women are still kidnapped and trafficked by primarily male yakuza. The former military looks to be exclusively made up of men. Progress moves slowly, so I think we can assume that the Japan outside of Chuuouku is approximately our modern Japan.

One of the major issues in examining this topic is that we see so little female-male interaction in regards to sex or romance. Ramuda and Hifumi are the only characters (that I can think of off the top of my head) who have any on-screen sexually/romantically charged interactions with women, but probably because this is a series largely marketed towards women, these interactions never go beyond light, impersonal flirting. To really take a look at how predators and assault may be featured in the Hypmic universe, we would need a much larger sample size. That being said, I’d still like to examine two case studies: Nemu and Hifumi.

Nemu

The two driving forces of Nemu’s character are her rejection of violence and her desire to have personal strength. The first of these is probably rooted in her childhood, from living with an abusive father, witnessing his violent murder, and witnessing the subsequent suicide of her mother. Samatoki doesn’t appear to have any resources for dealing with his own processing of these events, and he turns to violence and emotional outbursts as a way to channel his feelings. This violence continues to wear on Nemu, but she can still withstand it under normal circumstances up until the moment she is kidnapped.

Nemu cites her kidnapping as an example of her weakness, when in reality, it is an exhibition of anything but weakness. She remains calm throughout the entire ordeal, comforts Jirou and Saburou and keeps them hopeful, throws her shoe at Genchou, and offers him to cut her fingers off if that means the others will be spared. Nemu isn’t weak – she is a hero. She is a seventeen year old girl who lost both parents at a young age and has witnessed horrifically traumatic situations, yet she keeps her head during a hostage situation and acts with courage in order to keep everyone else safe.

Nemu calls herself weak not because she thinks she’s weak for anything she did during the situation, but because the situation happened to her in the first place. She is victim blaming herself for violent assault. This isn’t a logical position, but it’s a very understandable position for someone with her background. Unfortunately, Samatoki doesn’t have the knowledge or resources in order to help her process her trauma safely, and his own coping mechanisms only set her off further.

Nemu isn’t mentally weak, but she is very emotionally vulnerable. Even without the Party’s hypnosis, an offer from the Party would be too tantalizing to ignore. They can promise her a world in which suddenly she has the power over everyone else and where violence is not practiced. An offer like this is impossible for her to ignore. Even though the Party are the ones putting her in jeopardy again, they implicitly promise her that she can never be hurt again. For a young, brave, powerful girl holding in so much pain, that promise is everything she’s ever wanted.

As mentioned before, the Party doesn’t care about stopping violence. In fact, it encourages infighting among its civilians. If Nemu were not in an emotionally vulnerable position, she could see that and reject the Party’s offer, but that’s exactly why the Party targets her and not any of her peers. Imagine how many other young girls in similar situations fall prey to the same trap. These girls need healing and positive environments, but they are fed propaganda instead.

Hifumi

I don’t talk about this much because it’s a very uncomfortable subject for me, but the way Hifumi is depicted is a real tragedy.

We don’t know the details of what this particular girl did to Hifumi, but we do know that it continues to impact him over ten years later. We know that Hifumi developed his coping strategy on his own, seemingly without professional help, and that without it, he can’t begin to live even an approximation of a normal life. The illustrations of him encountering a woman show him hiding, cowering with his neck covered, or crying. He looks to be in genuine fear of losing his life. Consider being this afraid of half of the population and how frequently he must encounter women in his daily life: on the street, in the grocery store, on public transportation. Without the jacket, Hifumi’s life is a nightmare.

And yet the canon source material frames it as a joke. The humurous background music in ARB and Hifumi’s exaggerated gestures in the manga show that his fear and discomfort is a punchline. This would definitely not be a funny gag with the genders reversed (a woman sobbing in fear and running away every time she sees a man), so it is a travesty that this is the stance the authors continue to take.

The world we live in is, generally speaking, not kind to its male assault victims. Misogynistic attitudes create an environment in which it is shameful for men to admit that they were assaulted, especially by women. It should not be a punchline when one human being hurts another, and it is wrong and sexist beyond all belief to perpetuate the idea that women can’t be cruel, violent, and manipulative just as much as anyone else can.

I would like to hope that Hifumi’s case isn’t indicative of all Hypmic universe male assault victims, but I don’t think that’s the case. Hifumi definitely has access to mental health resources, considering that his roommate does, but there is no evidence that Hifumi has ever come forward to ask for help about this issue. This is probably a combination of Hifumi’s internal shame and an unsupportive environment. While Doppo does help Hifumi navigate daily life around women, Doppo’s facial expressions suggest he considers the matter a nuisance. He threatens to take away or withhold the suit when Hifumi’s coping method annoys him, and otherwise doesn’t seem to take Hifumi’s distress seriously. Jakurai appears to be more supportive, but he doesn’t ever offer additional help or resources to Hifumi beyond what Hifumi already has. In fact, the majority of Jakurai’s interest in the subject seems to be around examining Hifumi like a case rather than as a person needing assistance.

It’s also probably a result of the faux macho attitudes that are rampant within the Hypmic universe. Hypmic men are bound by a multitude of ridiculous expectations that I always feel like an idiot translating. “Men don’t cry.” “Men don’t get stuck feeling disappointed.” Absolute nonsense. Men can and will do anything, just like any other group of people. It’s far more productive to encourage men to be their best selves, respectful and helpful to themselves and everyone else, than to feed into this sort of behavior which implies the hideously false “men can’t be assaulted”.

This all results in Hifumi living a double life and only being able to remove his façade in the safety of his own apartment or with his two friends. That’s a miserable existence, and while Hifumi appears to be cheerful enough, it’s sickening to see that this is supposed to be comedic.

The Question of Male Oppression

The Party of Words does institute laws to oppress men, but this oppression is fairly ridiculous. Yotsutsuji says that men are taxed at a higher rate than women and that men aren’t allowed into certain areas (such as Chuuouku, I presume). Despite these challenges, the majority of Hypmic universe men seem to lead pretty normal lives. As mentioned above, the professional fields still appear to be dominated by men, and male-on-female violence doesn’t seem much different from how it is in our contemporary world. These laws aren’t making a significant change in male lives, so they must be made to impact women. Yet these are token impacts only, as they don’t in any way actually make the lives for non-Chuuouku women any better. By making this an “us against them” deal, the Party is able to make more women sympathetic to their cause and cause more infighting (thus distracting people from “us against the Party”) without actually having to make positive changes for anyone.

These laws also aren’t the reason why rebel groups exist. Consider the motivations each character gives in TDD 11. Ichirou mentions a lack of central law and regulations making it difficult to keep loved ones safe. The infighting that the Party promotes via its rap battles allows for power-hungry individuals like Mozuku to take over whole areas and instate whatever rules they want, no matter the cost to the citizens. Samatoki is frustrated by being directed to fight when he can’t see a good cause; similarly, Ramuda is concerned about the effects of the fighting on the neighborhoods they pass through. Even with non-lethal weapons, a country in constant conflict is not one in which its citizens can prosper. Jakurai is concerned about inequalities between Chuuouku and the rest of the country. He mentions in FP/M 15 (which we’ll have up in a few days for you to see for yourself) that he’ll use the prize money from winning the DRB to provide medical care for locations that the Party can’t or won’t supply with aid. Later in the chapter, he drives away from the spectacular, futuristic city of Chuuouku back into a Tokyo marked with graffiti and squalor. Even the male citizens don’t care about how they’re treated as compared to their female counterparts; they care that everyone is suffering together under the Party’s poor governing.

The Party has never sought to oppress men and elevate women. The Party’s goal is to elevate itself and oppress everyone else. The gender inequality is as much of a diversionary tactic as the Division Rap Battle.

#not a translation #asks

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omgsomeonesomewhereonearth · 3 years ago

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Okay so @fourteenfandomfan asked me to answer some questions about Ashes and tumblr decided to be a bitch about it but I put too much effort into answering them in the first place to NOT post my thoughts so I'm typing it out again fuck you.

What were your first impressions of the character?

HEART EYES. The biggest heart eyes you ever did see. My first impression of them was in "Underworld Blues" and frankly (ha) I don't think I've ever fallen in love with anyone or anything faster than in that moment.

I just - their voice was perfect, and I looked them up and they're literally?? So beautiful??? Hello??? I love them, your honour.

What is your favourite emotional scene involving them?

So this is where I look rather guilty and admit that I have yet to read all of the fictions that have been posted on the official website, nor have I actually even listened to hnoc or tbi yet, so my knowledge of canon is a bit scant? Most of my feelings on all the characters are just based on Fanworks I Like and personal headcanons, based on vibes tbh.

That said, I do attach a lot of emotion to Eskhatos, I am fully invested in the headcanon that Ashes had some attachment to Ulysses, beyond them being "The last thing on this planet worth playing with and not good for much at that", even if that's something they are not ready to disclose to the others yet. But again, this feeling was largely influenced by some of the amazing fanfic and headcanons I've read that sort of present Ulysses as a reflection of Ashes, when they were younger and they're just so so good.

How do your thoughts/feelings on the character compare with popular fanon and/or fanon intent?

So, for the latter, as I've said, I'm not fully acquainted with the canon and I certainly can't say what Frank had in mind when designing Ashes as a character and how that might compare to the way I've percieved them.

As for the former, it's quite complicated, because whilst my perception of Ashes is very much influenced by a couple of excellent fanworks, there have also been more than a few that have made me go "no <3". And also, I am genuinely quite new to the fandom, and I definitely can't say I've been here long enough to be able to say what qualifies as a popular headcanon vs an unpopular one, and where my own interpretations might fit on that scale?

I will say this though - I kind of wish there were more fics of Ashes where they were allowed to be slightly more...silly? Chaotic? In the way that the other mechs often are? Just a bit.

Like, obviously I recognise that Ashes is largely characterised as being one of the more mature and sensible (neither of these feel like the right word, but I really hope I'm getting my point across?) person in the crew? And I'm not against that, I do quite enjoy them having their shit together, there's a reason they're the quartermaster, and there's a reason they're so suited to these positions of power and leadership wherever they go. That said, I still think there should be enough room for Ashes to show a slightly more "fun" side to their character, I guess.

And like, honestly I think one of the reasons I'm quite sensitive to this particular thing is that Ashes is quite obviously the only poc in an almost entirely white group. And I often find, that in scenarios like this, creators will sort of resist making the character of colour as jokey as some of the others - to be fair, often this is to avoid falling into some nasty tropes, but...I also kind of think that it can also be pushed to the extreme too much to the point where you've sort of ended up with another not-that-great trope of constantly relegating characters of colour to being "the one who is always taken seriously", even when the others get to be more loose and fun? (I really hope I worded that right!!)

But, also, obviously - I can't necessarily claim that that is what's happening here, because there is also basis for Ashes being quite a serious character in text - we've seen multiple times that they are more inclined to act in measured, calculated ways, even when they're wreaking havoc, or they're immensely hurt or angry, than some of their crewmates. So, you know, I'm not at all trying to say that writers who portray Ashes in this way are problematic because they're choosing to delve deeper into a piece of characterisation that is very much already there - and again, is a characterisation that I do enjoy - I just wish that other sides of their personality were maybe explored a little bit more. (Especially, in my opinion, after several millenia with their new found family, who they obviously love very much, I think it's extremely realistic that Ashes maybe becomes more comfortable fooling around in a way that is more similar to some of the others, albeit still in a very Ashes way, if that makes sense).

(But again, massive, massive disclaimer that I am new to this fandom, I am only speaking on works that I have seen and read so far, and it's entirely possibly that my observations are not at all indicative of the fandom at large. If that's the case, please do let me know, and possibly lead me to works that have the elements I've talked about!)

#the mechanisms #ashes oreilly #ashes o'reilly #idk which ones correct #sorry this got so rambly towards the end #i have a lot of thoughts

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matchasprouts · 3 years ago

Text

Listen Closer - Chapter 10

[ 20,000 WORDS (altogether as a story) BAYBEE, THE POLYCULE IS SO POWERFUL ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

“Why would I apologize to him? He was asking for it.” Garrett was defending his position on biting Strahm as he made dinner for himself and Mark, who apparently just kind of lived in his apartment now. He’d even brought some spare clothes.

Mark sighed at his response, running a hand through his hair. The longer this went on, the more exasperated he got. “Because he’s an FBI agent, and if he thinks you’re dangerous, he’ll accuse you of being Jigsaw. We can’t handle an FBI investigation, Garrett, you should know that.”

Garrett just hummed, as if the idea of the FBI finding them really didn’t bother him. “He’s not a very good one. I mean, he could barely even take a little bite.”

“That was not a little bite. He had to get stitches. It’ll probably scar.”

The knowledge that he’d scarred Strahm made Garrett grin, darting his tongue out to lick his lips as if he could still taste his blood. “He deserved it,” he finally replied, finishing up with the preparation and putting the tin pan he was using into the oven.

Then he joined Mark on the couch, immediately cuddling into his side. Mark sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

“... Do you really want me to apologize?” Garrett asked once they were comfortable, one of his hands up Mark’s shirt and gently playing with the hair on his chest.

“Yes, I do, because the last thing we need is an investigation with an agent that hates us,” Mark answered, tightening his grip on Garrett slightly. “It doesn’t have to be genuine. Just make it seem like it is.”

Garrett muttered an ‘ok’ in reply, falling silent again as he rested his head on Mark’s shoulder.

This quiet lasted for a good few minutes, to the point where Mark honestly thought Garrett had fallen asleep. Until he spoke up again, of course.

“Thoughts on polyamory?”

Mark almost choked at the suddenness and bluntness of the question, and he could feel Garrett tense up in response, like he was ready to run at any second.

Garrett knew that if he had to choose between them, he would choose Mark. Yes, he had known Lawrence for longer, but he was in love with Mark the second they met. Besides, he was only officially dating the detective at the moment.

But he didn’t want to choose, and he knew an ultimatum would change the relationship forever, and he couldn’t handle that.

Before he could spiral too far, Mark cut in. “I’ve never tried it, but I’d be willing to, for you,” he said, immediately feeling the tenseness in Garrett’s muscles drop, even hearing a soft sigh from him.

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to date Lawrence too if you don’t want to, I really don’t mind if you just wanna date me-”

“Garrett. You’re overthinking this. I’m sure,” Mark cut him off, pressing a long kiss to the top of his head. “I’d do anything for you.” There was a pause, before he continued. “Lawrence Gordon?”

“Yeah… it would appear that my type is people tied to Jigsaw,” Garrett joked, leaning back again now that he wasn’t freaking out. “Have you met him?”

“Once, when he was being investigated as a Jigsaw suspect. It wasn’t a very long meeting, Tapp and Sing were about to interrogate him,” Mark replied. He wasn’t all too surprised that Garrett would be into him, his actual type seemed to be big men, and Lawrence fit that category.

Garrett hummed softly, kind of expecting that. Lawrence had told him about the investigation, and he’d been the one to plant the penlight in the first place. Of course, Lawrence knew that now, but he’d been rather upset when he first found out.

“I just wanted to check in with you,” Garrett said softly after a moment, looking up to press a kiss to Mark’s jaw. “I don’t like keeping things from the people I care about, especially not when it’s this important to me.”

It was then that the timer on the oven went off. Garrett groaned before pulling himself away from the warmth Mark exuded and headed over to turn off the timer and remove the pan from the oven.

After setting it on the stove and cleaning up some so it could cool off, he called Mark in for dinner.

Despite the earlier altercation and other excitements of the day, the night was peaceful and relaxed, which Jigsaw apprentices didn’t get all too often. They just had to cherish the moments they did get.

---

“And you’re sure everything is in place? You double checked?” Garrett asked as he and Amanda made their way over to the abandoned building they were using for his first multiroom and multi-player game.

He still had to gather the players- his coworkers who were more focused on gossip than doing literally anything else with their lives- but he wanted to be sure that his traps were in place.

Especially his version of the “iron maiden but for the face”. He was so excited to see that one in action- he designed it with Nadia in mind. He hoped they would appreciate his work if they survived.

“Yes, everything is in place,” Amanda replied with a groan, rolling her eyes. She was already tired of Garrett constantly asking her about it. “I double checked, John double checked, hell, I even had Nar take a look at it.”

Well, at least she had the foresight to check that many times, because Garrett did not trust her anymore. He did, however, trust John and Nar.

“Okay, okay, I get your point. Thank you,” he replied, unlocking and opening the door. “I’m just gonna check one more time and then I’ll go get Nadia.” He didn’t have time to get all of the players himself, so he was getting Nadia, Mark was getting Tyler, and Amanda would be getting Joyce.

They all planned on leaving at the same time, so they would hopefully get back at the same time, which meant they were waiting on Garrett.

“Just hurry up, I’m not going to wait around for you forever,” Amanda said, crossing her arms as she stood by the door. Garrett just brushed her off with a wave of his hand, heading further into the house.

The players would be locked up in their own rooms with their own traps- a mask with retractable spikes on the inside that would activate if they didn’t find the key in one minute for Nadia, a device that would slowly pull out his tongue if he didn’t find the code to unlock it fast enough for Tyler, and a machine that would crush Joyce’s fingers one by one until she willingly cut them off.

He’d had a lot of fun creating these traps, but he could only hope the rehabilitation worked.

And, theoretically, the only one in danger of dying early was Nadia. Tyler and Joyce would run the risk of bleeding out, but they still had a much better chance than them.

Garrett ran through the house, checking each room and the center trap, where they would all have to work together. Of course, it was survivable without Nadia, should they die, but if they failed, they would die slow and painful deaths in this house.

“Okay, everything’s good,” Garrett announced as he returned to the front door, ignoring the huff from Amanda. “Let’s go.”

“God, finally,” Amanda said, opening the door for them and heading out to their cars. “If you’re not here when I get back, I’m not setting up your trap.” Of course she wouldn’t, because she knew he didn’t trust her anymore.

“Thank you,” Garrett replied, grinning at the offense on her face. “Just put her in her room, I’ll take care of the rest. Try not to fight with Mark if you run into him.”

He didn’t hear Amanda’s retort, since he got in his car and drove off as fast as he possibly could. Besides, he didn’t have the time to argue, Nadia would only be home alone for another fifty or so minutes.

Unfortunately, he was cutting it really close, but it wasn’t his fault. Mark legitimately made him go to work with him in the morning to apologize to Strahm for biting him, only letting him leave when he explained WHY he reacted like that to a simple touch.

He’d made up some stupid shit about how it was laced in with his trauma and how he reacted violently to things he wasn’t expecting because of it. It wasn’t like he could tell Strahm that he’d ripped his step-father’s throat out with his teeth and became obsessed with the taste of blood, so that would work.

With that taking up most of his day (the other part of it being him making Mark make up for the wasted time), he was now in a rush, and he hated being rushed.

He noticed Nadia open her curtains when he drove past their house, hissing softly to himself as he had to keep going, circling around until he had clear access to her backyard instead. There was a fence around it, but that was okay, he just scaled it and unlocked the back gate to make it easier to pull them out.

Despite hating it, Garrett pulled on the pig mask he’d brought before heading inside, remembered that Nadia kept their backdoor unlocked- they made the mistake of telling him, when they were talking about how safe their neighbourhood was.

It seemed like they had stayed upstairs after seeing his car, which was good because it was what he had planned for.

Nadia didn’t have any pets or children either, which made heading upstairs without alerting them a lot easier. They didn’t even look up from their computer when he slowly pushed their study door open, hardly even twitching as he approached them from behind.

They tried to scream when he grabbed their hair, but he jabbed the syringe into their neck too fast for them to get the chance, the sedative inside making quick work of their consciousness.

Luckily, Nadia wasn’t very heavy, so it was extremely easy for Garrett to carry them back outside and to his car. He made it out of there with twenty minutes to spare, which made it his fastest job yet. He was sure Nadia’s roommate would be concerned when she got back and found them missing but not enough that she would call the cops. Nadia had a habit of leaving without saying anything, which worked out nicely for him.

He still drove quickly to get back to the house, but he was significantly less worried now. He knew the sedative would last a long enough time for him to not risk getting pulled over for speeding.

It wasn’t long before he was hoisting them out of the back seat and carrying them inside the house, not at all surprised to see Mark already there but Amanda still out. “Did you have any trouble with Tyler? He’s not a big man, but he’s fast,” he said, readjusting Nadia on his shoulder.

“I just hit him in the head,” Mark admitted bluntly. “Not my greatest moment, but he came running at me and I just kind of reacted on instinct.”

Garrett stared at him for a second, before bursting out in a laugh. “Holy SHIT Mark, you were supposed to SEDATE him, not knock him out in one blow!” He meant to be scolding, but that was damn near impossible.

“I- I tried, alright? It was instinct!” Mark defended himself, covering his mouth in an attempt to not join in on Garrett’s laughter.

Garrett just shook his head, still fighting back giggles as he made his way to Nadia room.

He laid them down on the floor once inside, taking two keys out of his pockets. One was for the door, the other for the trap. He put the one for the trap in a whole in the wall that he covered up with a painting- Nadia used to be quite the peeping tom, so it seemed appropriate. The key for the door was placed inside the mattress on the iron bed frame sitting in the middle of the room.

Once that was done, he placed the heavy metal mask on their face, securing it with the thick leather straps that wrapped around their head. The buckle was held shut by the padlock the key belonged to.

With the mask secured, he placed the tape player on the floor next to them and set the timer to activate in an hour, which was when the game was to begin.

It had been excruciatingly timed by him several weeks before, so he knew exactly when everything was going to go off.

Now that Nadia’s game was set up, he left the room and locked the door behind him, moving on to the others.

---

“Do you want to watch the game with me, or do you have work to do?” Garrett asked Mark when he was done setting up all the traps, Amanda having left as soon as she dropped off Joyce.

“I’ve got to get back to the precinct,” Mark said, getting a “booo” from Garrett that made him chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll probably have to call you in anyway to save face.”

Garrett didn’t like the idea of leaving in the middle of a game, even if he had it timed down to the last second, but he knew that keeping up their lie was important, so he just nodded.

“Well, I’ll see you later then,” he said, pulling Mark down for a kiss. “Bite Strahm for me, will you? He needs to remember his place.”

Mark laughed at that, just giving Garrett another short kiss before heading out.

Garrett checked the center trap one last time before heading to the room that contained his “trap”. What better way to facilitate the trap than being in it himself? Lawrence had agreed to watch it through the cameras, since Garrett had already known Mark wouldn’t be able to.

It was complicated, had a lot of moving parts, and would require him to get hurt.

He was more excited than he had ever been.

#story tag: listen closer #self ship fic #self shipping #self insert #scrap.writing #scrap.ships #s/i: garrett whitlock #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon #peter strahm #romantic: 🦿🩺#romantic: ⛓🕵️‍♂️#romantic: 🖊💧#(poly) romantic: ⛓🩺🖊#chapter 10

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lil-tachyon · 4 years ago

Note

I’m loving your solarpunk drawings and the world you’ve been building around it - even though most of the captions imply a decline in civilizational cohesion from our present condition, it’s reassuring to think ‘well, we’ll muddle through it somehow, we always do, and maybe the world that will follow might even be less shitty than our present one’.

That being the case, I want to pick your brain about more traditional sci-fi societal elements, especially in light of your saying that you don’t think mega-towers or arcologies or whatever you want to call em’ would take off (and I think you’re right):

1. Is armed conflict still a thing? On a national or tribal scale? And in a world with new constraints on resource scarcity, how effective is it at achieving organizational goals? On that note, if the old national-capitalist hierarchies are dinosaur-levels of irrelevant, what’s taken their place? Thinking about the militarization of national parks, the establishment of powerful firefighters’ unions - I guess I want detail on more stuff like that.

2. Does the internet still exist in any meaningful sense? I can see cellular towers going down with the grid, but do satellites still spin ‘round the earth for people to bounce comms off of? Perhaps one of its great features is exchanging material solutions, blueprints for 3D printers or something like that - or are 3D printers economically nonviable in the kind of solarpunk you’re imagining here? (I keep thinking about Cory Doctorow’s Walkaway on one hand, and Raymond Kurzweil’s concept for Atomically Precise Manufacturing and the Radical Abundance he says such technology would bring about on the other.)

3. How stark is the difference between urban and rural areas? Are there even relevant urban areas anymore? (I think there would be, relying on vertical or suburban agriculture to keep themselves independent of the country folk the city folk so fear and despise. But it’s your universe.)

Just thoughts. Really looking forward to seeing more of this rough-and-tumble solarpunk ‘verse in the future!

So glad to hear you’re liking it! I’m having a lot of fun drawing and writing this stuff and it’s really cool to hear people’s reactions to it. I’ll try to answer your questions the best I can.

1. I would imagine large-scale armed conflict with up-to-date weapons can only be conducted by global superpowers that can afford to requisition the oil and electronic components to manufacture modern weapons of war. In this scenario, that would probably be the US with access to most of the world’s oil and China with access to most of the world’s rare earths. They would probably engage in proxy wars over resources. Smaller powers would vie for support from American or Chinese “military advisors” in local or regional conflicts. Combatant states try to avoid total war so as not to completely deplete reserves of military resources, resulting in small conflicts that are feints-within-feints-within-feints of large economic conflicts.

I think empires will always be around, although how well they maintain control over their constituent components will vary. Tian gao, Huangdi yuan. With decaying infrastructures, both physical and electronic, large nation-empires will probably become less cohesive as communities further from the centers of power become harder to reach. The US will go back to being “These United States” rather than “The United States.” But the empires will try to hold on to power regardless. Smaller nations would probably see more overt changes. Resource scarcity and general global instability would likely cause revolutions all over the place (with each one being clandestinely contested by global superpowers). You’d see the emergence of new regimes that could be described as socialist, ethno-nationalist, monarchist, theocratic, democratic, communist, etc. The breakdown of global social order would be fertile breeding ground for new governments, for better or for worse. (I’ve been mostly focusing on tech stuff for the Inktober series as I’m really not very knowledgeable about geopolitics, but I can try to do more of this kind of cultural stuff if it’s what people find interesting. I like it too!)

2. The internet still exists, but for many people it is a public utility rather than a private luxury. Computers and phones are expensive and hard to repair, power outages are recurrent, and the infrastructure supporting the internet is expensive and difficult to maintain. Localized peer-to-peer file sharing networks are common and these networks connect to the broader internet when that connection is available. You’re right, many people in this scenario use the internet to find material solutions to difficult problems, I mentioned that a little in this post. So the internet is still around, it’s use just isn’t as ubiquitous as it is in our day and it’s typically reserved for important information exchanges rather than just web-surfing. 3D printers would actually probably be pretty viable. The difficult part would be obtaining components allowing for precision axial movement but stepper motors probably would still be pretty common and I’m sure you could make power screws with 19th century tech. And I don’t think the computing requirements are super demanding but I’m really not an expert.

As for radical abundance, nanotech, etc. I’m basically writing this whole setting assuming that their aren’t any “miracle technologies” that are going to save us but I can’t really rule that kind of stuff out. Maybe nanotech will become cheap and usable, maybe fusion power will as well. Who’s to say? (My gut feeling is that nanotech, when it comes, will result in some kind of epidemic of toxic nanoscopic trash and that fusion power is a long long way from viability yet, but those are literally just my feelings, they’re not based on any facts.)

3. I’m going to let you in on my dirty little secret: cities are very hard to draw which is why I haven’t drawn many urban scenarios for this project. That said, yeah, urban areas would definitely still be important. I think the key here is that the important urban centers of the future will be the ones that can protect themselves from wildfires, sea-level rise, and food shortages. So cities would probably be rife with greenery, have draconian fire-safety laws and would be equipped with flood mitigation infrastructure to rival or exceed the shutoken gaikaku hōsuiro. They would have more reliable access to 24/7 power and most of the rich would probably live in cities. I don’t see suburbs in the modern sense making it into the future. It costs too much to upkeep. They’d have to become much more self-sufficient to keep from falling apart in the face of food and resource scarcity. Rural areas would likely become self-sufficient communities unto themselves, repairing what they have, doing their best to keep the lights on with wooden wind turbines, providing communal light and heat from heliostat arrays etc. The only thing coming in to rural communities would be data from the internet, and the only thing going out would be food to the hungry cities.

I hope this answers your questions! Feel free to ask more or suggest ideas. I’m not an expert on any of this stuff, I’m just trying to learn more about ways we might meet the challenges of the future.

Peace

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akaluan · 4 years ago

Note

3&11 for Erich/Kisuke

(3: Accidental Marriage, 11: It’s not a date, we swear — Erich/Kisuke)

Erich sweeps his gaze over the collection of boxes starting to take up a good portion of Kisuke’s lab, then lets his breath hiss through his teeth. While he appreciates the chance to examine relics hoarded — and potentially made by — Yhwach’s hidden Quincy, the sheer volume is… daunting.

“And here’s the last of what we’ve found so far!” Yoruichi announces as she saunters in with yet another box packed to the brim with the detritus of a fallen empire. She drops it atop a stack of identical boxes then sets her hands on her hips and purses her lips, giving the crowded lab a look. “You sure you want to keep this between just you and Kisuke? It’s a lot for two people, and I’m sure the Twelfth would—”

“Absolutely not,” Erich cuts her off before she can offer, then glowers when she gives him an amused look. “Kisuke is one thing, but I’m not letting Shinigami paw through and attempt to decipher Quincy relics.”

“Well, it’s your time to burn, I guess,” she says with a shrug and another long look around the lab. “Good luck! Try not to get eaten by something!”

Erich snorts and shakes his head as Yoruichi saunters out of the lab, then turns around and gives Kisuke an amused look. “It’s like she forgets we’re capable of fighting, sometimes,” he says as he steps closer and peers into the box. He grimaces at the jumbled collection of things inside, trying to make sense of the mess of bottles, knives, cups, little boxes, and other random trinkets filling the box. “Where did they find all of this?” he asks in disbelief.

“Anywhere they could,” Kisuke answers with a laugh as he fishes up a small green bottle filled with some unknown liquid, then holds it up to the light and gives it a little shake. He hums in interest as the liquid seems to spark, bright pinpoints of light flaring and vanishing as if the thing is filled with glitter. “What do you think this is?”

“It’s an old fashioned glamour bottle,” Erich tells him, stretching up to pluck the bottle from Kisuke’s fingers. He tilts it from side to side, watching the play of light for a moment, then sets it aside. “It was common centuries ago, and our use of it played no small role in many legends of the fair folk or of hauntings. Sometimes a person just doesn’t want to look like themselves for a while.”

Kisuke hums and eyes the bottle again. “Ever used one yourself?”

Erich hesitates, debating how honest he wants to be, then finally shrugs and says, “We lost the knowledge of how to make them when my grandparents were infants, and used the last of our supply around that same time. So… no.”

Kisuke winces and gives an awkward laugh as he looks away, clearly drawing the correct conclusion immediately. His shoulders round in and he ducks his head, managing to look small. “You know, I’m surprised you’re letting me help you. Exile or not, I’m—”

“My friend,” Erich interjects as he elbows Kisuke’s side and gives the man a narrow look. “I think you’ve earned that much after everything we’ve been through.” When all Kisuke does is stare at him like he’s grown two heads, Erich glances up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Is it so odd to think that I could change my mind?”

“Er… well… no, but…”

“Then accept it and move on. We have work to do.” Erich fishes another glamour bottle from the box and sets it next to the first, then casts a sidelong, sly look at Kisuke and says, “Unless you’d rather tie yourself in knots instead of investigating these artifacts with me? It’ll take me longer, but I’m sure I can—”

“No, no, I’ll help, I’ll help!” Kisuke interrupts, an edge of laughter in his voice. He leans over the box and reaches in, pulling out a blunt dagger covered in rust, and wrinkles his nose. “Not very interested in upkeep, were they?” he asks as he sets it aside and reaches in again. “Half of this stuff is broken in some way, and the rest looks like its seen better days. Even these glamour bottles don’t look like they’ve been touched in ages.”

“They were chasing after an ideal that could never exist, and were mired deep in their fixation on revenge,” Erich reminds his friend as he sets about fishing out the rest of the glamour bottles from the box. With this many examples — and with Kisuke’s help — he might even be able to reverse engineer the damn things, though he refuses to get his hopes up. “When you let yourself get blinded like that… anything deemed unnecessary falls by the wayside,” he finishes sadly, remembering how his own country twisted in upon itself until he could barely recognize it — or his old companions — any more.

(War never led to anything good.)

(Never.)

Kisuke nudges him with a shoulder and arches an eyebrow in question, but says nothing when Erich shakes his head.

Instead, the two of them turn to emptying the box, laying the bits and pieces out on the table as they go. The more they dig out, the more certain Erich is that they’re looking at someone’s personal collection instead of a communal stockpile; beyond the glamour bottles, many of the things they’re pulling from the box have the look of items once well loved and often used, their power now fading from neglect and disuse. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to decipher anything from the lingering remnants, but… he’ll try.

He’s always wanted to know more about his people’s lost skills, and here, now, he finally has a chance.

(He’s not letting this opportunity go.)

His hand brushes across Kisuke’s as they both reach into the box at the same time and grab—

Something sparks to life with the crackle-hiss of fading power, and Erich’s hand prickles as the power dances across his skin, leaving a shimmering, iridescent glow in its wake. Kisuke yelps dramatically and jumps back as Erich yanks his own hand away with a hiss, shaking it to dispel the feeling of pins and needles. He leans over and glowers down at the thing they’d both touched, trying to figure out what they’d set off and why.

It’s a decorative chalice, old and battered, with the stem shaped like a dragon and the cup held in the dragon’s front paws like an offering. Its mouth is open in a gaping, cheerful smile and its eyes are slanted in a way that reads like happiness to him, despite both of them missing whatever stone was once there.

Carefully, cautiously, he reaches into the box and touches the dragon, ready to yank his hand back if it reacts again, but it remains inert, as if it’s nothing but a simple, decorative piece instead of some sort of enchanted relic.

He pulls it out and grimaces at the damage done to it; one wing is gone and the other is twisted, the metal along its back is scuffed, its tail is cracked, and the rim of the cup itself is bent. All in all, it looks as if it was thrown against a wall in fury, then discarded and forgotten.

“What is it?” Kisuke asks as he presses close, peering over Erich’s shoulder at the chalice. “And why’d it react like that?”

“I have no idea,” Erich admits with a touch of amusement, turning the chalice around in his hands and running his thumb over the smooth sides of the cup. “I’ve never seen the like before, honestly, and whatever it did discharged most of its remaining power, so I can’t sense much from it anymore.” Nor can he tell anything from the chalice itself; there’s no writing that he can see anywhere on it beyond the maker’s mark on the bottom, but he doesn’t recognize that either, so… he has no idea what it could be.

“Kind of impractical, isn’t it?” Kisuke reaches for the chalice, then hesitates and pulls back before he finishes the action. “Doesn’t look like it’d be very comfortable to hold.”

“It was probably something ritual related,” Erich agrees as he turns and sets it on the table to one side. “Whatever it was, it didn’t feel malignant or dangerous, so we’re probably fine.”

“Probably, he says,” Kisuke teases with a smile, then picks the chalice up and starts to examine it. “And if we wake up in the morning with wings and scales?”

“Then I guess we’re going to learn how to be dragons,” Erich says, amused by the very idea. “I’m sure you’ll catch on quick.”

“Me? What about yourself?” Kisuke asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Is there something you haven’t told me, Erich-san?”

Erich just smirks at Kisuke and turns away, chuckling at Kisuke’s squawk of protest. “If you really believe I wouldn’t have simply turned into a dragon the minute I was faced with Shinigami, I think you need to reassess your opinion of me.”

Kisuke huffs and sets the chalice aside. “Mou, Erich-san’s being mean.”

“Erich-san is only as mean as someone has earned,” he teases, bumping his shoulder against Kisuke’s arm and using that brief touch to assess Kisuke’s reiatsu. He doesn’t sense anything out of order, but without knowing what they touched he has no idea how quickly its effect will trigger, or if it already has.

He’ll just have to stay alert as they keep working, but… he has a good feeling about it.

Whatever that chalice was used for, he doubts it was anything nefarious.

(Now, if only he could say the same about the rest of it all…)

(Ah well, they’ll figure it out.)

(Together.)

#fluffy accidental marriage au #part 1 of... several #they're going to post daily lol #minus wednesday but yeah #skyshinigamialchemist #replies

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watchathon · 4 years ago

Text

Avatar: The Last Airbender, Series Finale: Sozin’s Comet

In case you’re finding this post just by browsing the tags I’ve used for this post, this is the Watchathon, a blog where I’m hoping to watch an episode of a TV show every weekday, with a short blog post where I write down my thoughts as I watch. Each new thought starts with a hyphen and a bolded first word.

- Like so. Now that the introductions are over with, it’s time to break that one-episode-a-day rule and finish off Avatar: The Last Airbender with the climactic grand finale, Sozin’s Comet:

PART 1: THE PHOENIX KING

- Okay, so, Katara in the intro is still saying “He has a lot to learn before he’s ready to save anyone.” I could’ve sworn they removed that part by this point... Maybe that was just something for the DVD?

- I like that the “Previously on” segment is so long. It really emphasizes how much buildup there was to this. How much the Gaang has been through to get here.

- I gotta say, I was not expecting a beach party in this episode.

- Somehow, for reasons I can’t explain because I don’t understand them myself, this ambush from Zuko made the audio of Nicolas Cage saying “Surprise attack!” in Into the Spider-Verse play in my head.

- Zuko’s really lucky that he earned Katara’s forgiveness before this violent pop quiz, seeing as just a half season ago... “You take one step backwards... one slip up... give me one reason to think you might hurt Aang - and you won't have to worry about your destiny anymore. Because I'll make sure your destiny ends right then and there. Permanently.”

- It never occurred to me that we didn’t get details on the war meeting before now.

- I’d bet hearing about this plan is the thing that tipped the scales and fully convinced Zuko to join the Gaang, and prevent the genocide of the Earth Kingdom.

- It’s so nice to see Zuko being welcomed into the group hugs. Especially when it’s Katara who invites him.

- I like that Zuko is teaching Aang to redirect lightning, the same way Iroh taught him.

- Even before it’s made explicit, you can tell that Aang’s uneasy about the idea of killing.

- Toph is just delighting in her role as Melon Lord, isn’t she?

- Someone out there has definitely written an AU fanfic where someone gets killed during this training and it’s Toph’s origin story as the malicious Melon Lord. If not, then I will write it myself, and it shall be the crackiest crack fic that ever cracked.

- Y’know what, I wish Toph could’ve actually gone on a life-changing field trip with Zuko too! Everyone else got one...

- This scene of Sokka climbing into Appa’s mouth is even more uncomfortable once you’ve... well, once you’ve grown up and... Okay, I tried to put it subtly, but I just can’t: Once you’ve been cursed with the knowledge of what vore is.

- Well, there’s a bait-and-switch if I’ve ever seen one: “Azula, you’re the new Fire Lord!” “=)” “But I am now the Phoenix King and still your superior who you will answer to.” “=O”

- Nice to see June and her Shirshu make a comeback.

- Does this mean Aang wasn’t running away on purpose? I honestly thought he was just going to that island to get some alone time, maybe meditate or contact the previous Avatars’ spirits.

PART 2: THE OLD MASTERS

- I’m not sure if this is something I forgot from June’s first appearance, or if it’s actually just never been brought up before, but I didn’t know her Shirshu had a name.

- It’s sweet that Zuko is seeking out Iroh’s help. Even if the method of finding him is, ah, well... unorthodox.

- Even Avatar Roku doesn’t know where Aang is. And here I thought it was some Avatar thing that had never been brought up before.

- It’s nice to see these people make a comeback. Bumi, Piandao, even Jeong Jeong and Master Pakku are here for the finale.

- I am surprised that we didn’t get an interaction between Toph and Bumi, though. The man Aang wanted to teach him Earthbending, the girl who ended up doing it... But I guess there’s only so much time, and I don’t think there’s any scenes that could be deleted to make room for it.

- It seems like Aang is just searching for confirmation of his beliefs, rather than actually seeking wisdom.

- I like that we get to see Bumi taking full advantage of the eclipse to take back Omashu from the Fire Nation, instead of just being told about it.

- It’s nice to see so many past Avatars beyond just Roku and Kyoshi, Avatars that we never heard of before, but now we hear their stories. But all of these past Avatars echo the same sentiment that Aang should kill Ozai, even an Air Nomad Avatar.

- What can I say about this scene of Zuko and Iroh reuniting? Forgive me for echoing a post I made on my main blog, but this is a scene that’s both sweet and sad.

Sad, because Zuko’s abuse at the hands of Fire Lord Ozai left him anxiously expecting furious punishment for crimes much less than what he did to Iroh. He can’t even comprehend the idea that Iroh would forgive him. His expression while apologizing to Iroh clearly shows he’s expecting the worst.

Sweet, because Iroh still loves Zuko like his own son, and doesn’t even need to forgive him because he never felt anger at Zuko’s betrayal: Only sadness and a worry that Zuko had lost his way, truly lost his honor. And Iroh is so clearly happy to see that Zuko has found his destiny, and joined the fight against the Fire Nation.

I could go on and on about this scene... It’s my absolute favorite scene in the whole series and it brings me to tears every single time I see it.

Gosh... it’s gonna be so awkward going back to the jokes and little mundane thoughts after this, isn’t it?

- Okay, I have officially given up on the idea of finding out what the heck this island is.

- I like the smile on Katara’s face, when she’s asked to team up with Zuko and fight Azula.

- It’s nice to know that Iroh will get the opportunity to run that tea shop, even if Zuko won’t be there to work with him.

- Okay, okay, so the island was actually a lion turtle. Frankly, I’ve still got a lot of questions. Even some new ones.

- It’s nice to see that the Netlix subtitles aren’t ALLCAPS anymore.

PART 3: INTO THE INFERNO

- Gotta hand it to the music, it can make even a scene of Azula making a fuss over a non-pitted cherry rather unnerving.

- Azula’s... Azula-ness has gone straight up to eleven with her newfound role. Hasn’t it? What with all the banishments, even banishing the entire Dai Li.

- Sokka, Suki and Toph are the real dream team.

- And we get a great final blind joke!

- I like that we get to see everyone doing their part in this final battle. All the members of the Gaang, even the White Lotus, get their moments to shine.

- The hallucination of Ursa shows that Azula, on some level, has an idea of what’s wrong with her. You can tell that they were thinking of a redemption arc for Azula come Book 4, though I am glad that didn’t happen.

- It’s chilling to see Ozai razing the forests of the Earth Kingdom like it’s nothing. And then to realize that this is what Aang will have to face.

- At first I wasn’t sure what Sokka’s plan was, but now that I see it in action, it’s really creative.

- I like the idea of a final one-on-one Zuko vs Azula duel(...a). It’s been a rivalry since Book 2, and it’s nice to finally see it get settled, even if I can’t imagine it’ll end up that easy: Otherwise, what would Katara do?

- It’s so cool to see Aang showing his prowess in all bending techniques, using them all in this final showdown.

- The background music during Zuko and Azula’s Agni Kai really sells it. It makes it sound almost tragic, and it is: two siblings pitted against each other, no choice but to fight to determine the future of the world.

- Azula might be slipping, but she’s still Azula, all too willing to cheat in what’s supposed to be a one-on-one duel.

PART 4: AVATAR AANG

- Netflix isn’t showing the intro for the individual parts, but I’ve gotta say... There’s no way that Katara’s still saying Aang’s “got a lot to learn before he’s ready to save anyone.” Right?

- I like that we get to see one last use of Metalbending from Toph in the finale.

- Dang, I hope this isn’t really the end for Sokka’s sword, or his boomerang. Especially when the sword was so cool, and one could say meaningful.

- I honestly wasn’t sure the Avatar State would ever be a factor again. But if there was ever a time, this is it. (ADDENDUM: This is probably the best time to clarify that I find and add the images at the start after writing the rest of the post.)

- And it’s so epic to see Aang bending all four elements at once.

- I like that Iroh got to burn down the Fire Nation flag.

- Since Zuko’s down for the count, I guess this means a battle between Katara and Azula, the latter powered up by Sozin’s Comet.

- To be honest, I could barely make out what Azula just said. “kjsdbksrbfkjvf family position to look after, kdcbkfh”?

- Katara may not be stronger than Sozin’s Comet-powered Azula, but she’s much more clever than Azula is right now as she loses her marbles.

- This is just the perfect kind of defeat for Azula. There’s no grace to it, no dignity, just writhing around, screaming and spewing fire as Zuko and Katara look on with pity.

- There’s probably a great practical reason someone could find for Spiritbending being a thing, but here’s why I’m glad it exists: Aang gets a happy ending. He gets to take down the Fire Lord, and hold true to his beliefs. If it weren’t for Spiritbending, if Aang killed Ozai, then he would be conflicted to the end.

And I don’t want that. I want Aang to get an unambiguously, undoubtedly happy ending, where the world is saved and that’s all there is to it.

Plus, Spiritbending is quite the spectacle.

- I’m guessing Sokka’s space sword and boomerang really are done for. But hey, there’s always headcanon. Maybe Sokka searched the forest and eventually found them.

- Weird to think that Ty Lee’s gonna be a Kyoshi Warrior.

- Again, I can’t believe Zukaang’s not the most popular Zuko ship in the fandom. Not a ship I’ll go to bat for, but it’s got all the hallmarks of a fan-preferred couple.

- It’s so nice to see Zuko’s coronation, and the official end to the war. It’s a happy ending for the whole world, the start of an era of peace.

- “Love and peace,” huh...? Now that’s funny to hear in the finale to this show, considering the next show I’m covering, come 2021...

- I like that we get to see one last confrontation between Zuko and Ozai. Even if Zuko’s question of where Ursa is doesn’t go anywhere (in the show, I know they touch on that in the comics), it’s nice to see the newly-crowned Fire Lord Zuko having evolved past a need for Ozai’s attention, or a fear of Ozai’s wrath.

- It’s nice to see the whole Gaang having fun at Iroh’s tea shop, in the end. And I stand corrected, this is where we get the final blind joke.

FINAL THOUGHTS

I’m lucky in that most of my childhood cartoons hold up as an adult. I watched Kim Possible, Phineas and Ferb, Code Lyoko, Courage the Cowardly Dog...

Still, there’s something special about Avatar: The Last Airbender. It had a unique aesthetic and world that no other show was quite like. It had a story that was like nothing I’d ever seen as a kid.

And it doesn’t just hold up, it’s even better.

When I was a kid, it was as simple as rooting for the good guys to win, and for the Firebenders to lose, except for Zuko once he turned good.

Now, as an adult (but mostly as someone with a DVD player/Netflix account so I’m not just watching whatever reruns I can catch) I can appreciate the character development, the arcs, the entire story.

I can appreciate how Aang grew from a little boy who does indeed have a lot to learn before he’s ready to save anyone, into a hero who could save the world.

I can appreciate how Zuko was an abuse victim who did what all abused children wish they could do and left his abuser.

I can appreciate... Gosh, Iroh’s entire character and dynamic with Zuko.

Some people say that Avatar “starts off as a kids show, then turns serious”, but I’d disagree. Avatar is a show where our heroes change, where they learn lessons, where they come of age and become the kind of heroes who can end a war that’s been going on for over a century.

As relieved as I am to be (mostly) done with these posts for the rest of the year, I am still oh-so-glad that I’ve rewatched Avatar yet again, and I know that I will be whenever I rewatch it in the future.

Now, with all that said... Farewell! Until the Christmas special, at least...

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booksforevermore13 · 3 years ago

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Sherry Lips and Crystal Stars (Part I)

Summary: 'So, when they break away, and he looks at her, green to brown, she knows that he's the one. That in the end, he had always been the one.'

Ginny Weasley works on a strict owe-to-owe basis, but it's one person she can never fully repay. And she's always running from him. Always. Until Kaz Brekker needs her to recruit him for a highly coveted kidnapping.

A/N: This becomes one of the first MCs I have ever written, and this was, at first, meant to be a one-shot (note the word meant), but I evidently let myself get carried away.

Therefore, this extremely obscure Shadow and Bone (the show) AU is the result of the Harry and Ginny Discord's Birthday Challenge 2021! It's basically set in the Crows' part of the show (to all those who know what I'm talking about), but to all those who have no knowledge of it, you don't need to. In fact, you absolutely don't need to familiar with the show or the books, to understand it, and I would be honoured if you decide to give this a read, and, in the end, or whenever you want, leave a review :D.

Above all, I hope you enjoy, because I loved, loved writing this!

Read it on Fanfiction or AO3 if you prefer!

PART I

"I know what a million kruge means to me. What does it mean to you?" he asks, but she knows it's directed at her. He knows that she's the one most hesitant. That she's the one who needs it more than anyone here. Maybe even him.

"Freedom," she answers and she doesn't hesitate. She can't let him see her doing so. But she doesn't lie.

Weirdly, when he looks away, she can't tear her eyes away from him but after, when he finally glances at her, the briefest of briefest glances, she looks away first.

She doesn't know why.

"Fun," Jesper chuckles. "Like, at least a few months."

Why and how, they govern her life. Most of the time, she couldn't begin to explain why. That's what differs her from everyone here. The weight of anonymity lies heavy on her, not them.

So when it's Arken's turn and he doesn't miss a beat, she doesn't question why. "Retirement," he states simply, and her eyes can't help but stray to the scars peeking out from under his sleeve.

They're trivial needs, for her (for them?) and for a second, she wishes she had them too.

"Right, so we press on."

Her eyes are set on not looking at him, but when he walks past her, the opposite side of where they should have been heading, that's when she looks up.

"Where are you going?"

He doesn't answer her.

"Jesper, go with Arken," and he limps over to where the two of them are standing, handing Jesper a stash of kruge.

"Inej, come."

His boots strike the gravel, but they don't make a sound. Inej follows.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't trust him," he says, when they've turned a corner. "Arken."

"And you're still letting him take us across the Fold?" She's never understood him. One minute, she feels she's known him forever, the next, he's the boy she knew as the Bastard of the Barrel. She's always trusted him while he was both.

"He's a means to the end."

"To the end?"

When she looks around, she doesn't know where they are, where he's taking her, and even though she knows he'll never take her anywhere dangerous, at least, not without telling her, her hands are by her knives, ready for the slightest sign of trouble.

"A way out."

Kaz turns around, and as Inej follows, she sees a girl by the shadows - but the girl isn't hiding. If she'd seen her in a crowd, she'd have remembered her.

But she hadn't.

ii.

"Brekker."

"Ginevra." Ginny holds back a smile. It's been a year, but she's glad he still knows what to call her.

For a second, she does consider smiling, something she had always felt free to do around him, before he'd become Dirtyhands, before he'd become the leader of the Dregs, and after; but she doesn't. For once, Kaz is not by himself.

This time, he's with a girl. The Wraith, as he'd told her when they'd met last. And Wraith she might be, but Ginny didn't know her.

"Something tells me you need me for something."

She lets her weight fall against the wall, but she doesn't look at Kaz. Instead, she looks at the girl, who stands unflinchingly beside him, unnatural, because something about the way she was standing tells her that this girl trusts Kaz the same way she does. Maybe even more.

Ginny isn't surprised though, seeing the three daggers lodged against her waist, and one peeking out from under her sleeve, two more under her belt, but it's her hand on her knife that catches her eye. It's sickening to see, but she's glad there's someone else other than her and him who's as paranoid as them.

So she smirks, and takes her weight off the wall. "Tell your friend to ease up," she announces loudly and there's a twinge of sick satisfaction as she sees the girl's face mold into slight surprise. She hides it well.

Ginny's heard of the Wraith, never seen her before.

Kaz nods, glancing at the girl, and Ginny's eyes flicker as something unheard passes between them.

She's never seen Kaz do that before.

But when he looks at her again, she forces her face back into a line, and into a smirk.

"What? What is it you want?"

"A favour."

She scoffs, stepping forward slightly. "I don't do favours," she says, "nor do you."

"Consider this an investment."

He needs her, she realises. Needs her bad. Needs her fast.

Part of her wants to say no, all of her wants to say no. But she owes him, even though he doesn't know that. She hasn't bothered to tell him all these years, and she is no mind to do so now, but it's that part of her that worries her, the part that makes sure she doesn't have any red on her ledger, that she doesn't owe anyone anything.

The other part of her knows she'll probably regret this, but this was a chance, she figured. Kaz worked on 'owe-and-give', so did she, and this was a chance to wipe her name off his chart.

So it's that part of her which makes her say yes.

And when she does, it takes everything in her to not snap Brekker's neck for that glint in his eye. He'd known she wouldn't refuse. Known her too well. He smirks, then turns to the girl, says something she misses.

The girl hesitates but nods, and part of her wonders how she had trusted him so readily. So easily. It had taken her years to place that sort of confidence in him, years for him to reciprocate.

There were few who trusted Kaz Brekker; she'd learned too quickly. Fewer he trusted.

She follows the girl's steps, watches as she scales the wall and disappears over it. She has an elegance to her Ginny'd never achieved before, never begun to understand. But then, that had been the very reason he'd named her the Wraith. And rightly so.

"So," she begins, well after the girl has left, "last time we met, her name was Inej. What's it now?"

"Still Inej," Kaz curtly replies, and there is defiance in his eyes, and something she can't quite put her finger on. "She's not that type of girl."

He's protective over her.

It is nearly endearing to watch.

"What is her type then?" she mocks, enjoying the way he tries not to react. She's the only one who can press his buttons like that. She takes pride in it.

Kaz doesn't answer (she hadn't expected him to), merely raising a distasteful eyebrow, and Ginny shakes her head, still laughing, but it's mere seconds later she sobers down.

"Out with it then," she says. "You wouldn't have come to me if you weren't in a spot of trouble."

"I need you to find him."

"No."

There. There it was. The bomb. The explosive. And that's all she needs to say. All she's thinking. She has a lot she owes Kaz Brekker for, but she isn't going to do this. She isn't going to find him.

When she had said yes to their agreement, she'd thought he'd want her to steal something, kill someone (with all due respect). She was his hitman, woman, and he'd never told her to take an innocent life. Not once. And it was rarely the other.

"No," she says again, and her anger flares up at the dismissive look he still has on his face. "Brekker," she says quietly, "you can go find someone else to do your work for you. I want out if that is what it takes."

"What if I say I have something you'd want?" His voice is quiet, and if she wasn't quite so close to him, she'd have missed it.

"I'd say no."

"You," Kaz smirks, "owe him."

Ginny stills.

"What if I say I have something you could use to clear your debt?"

He'd trapped her. And she'd let him.

"I….." she falters. "It depends. On what you have."

"A location."

Her eyes widen, her breath stills. She knew there were few things he couldn't do. She thought this was one of them.

But a location is what she'd needed. What she has needed all along.

Ginny turns away from him, and slips her hand in her pocket, holding the medallion tight. It had remained her one lead on the man who'd killed her family, the one who'd ruined her life. It had remained her one chance.

This was another. But for this, she'd need him. He was the only one powerful enough.

"How long do you have?" she asks, and she turns around to see Kaz's face change. She smirks.

iii.

She knows where he is. While he'd always had the upper-hand, Kaz had been wrong. Ginny wouldn't have to find him. She's always known. All along.

She owed him. She never let a man she owed out of her sight.

"How long will it take?" Kaz asks, but she only glares at him in answer.

"As long as he needs."

Inej looks at her, then at him. Ginny isn't surprised to see that she no longer had the ice in her eyes, the contempt she regarded her with before. Now the ice had been replaced with fire, and that was almost comforting. The latter was easier to play with, easier to face.

Whatever Kaz had told her, it had clearly been enough to make her hate Ginny a bit less. She'd have to change that.

Ginny glares at him again and in a flash of fury, her hands reach for the knife she'd seen Inej holding earlier that day, snapping it out of her holster, fitting it in under her own belt. It's petty, but petty's what she wants at the moment.

And though Inej moves quickly, Ginny's no less, tripping her up, hoping she'd fall. She doesn't, much as Ginny had expected, and when she looks at her again, the girl's face is contorted in rage, twin daggers clasped in each of her hands.

"Now, now, don't want us to be hasty, do we?" she says, and she's glad her voice is coming out so flippant, so dismissive.

Ginny doesn't flinch as a dagger lodges by her head, against the wall, nicking her ear. A drop of blood trickles down, and part of her is satisfied that she'd been able to get a rise out of the girl.

Blood for blood.

"I'll return this when I come back," she says, twirling the knife in her hand. "If."

"You will give it here. Now."

She wonders why the knife held such value to her. It wasn't flashy enough to bring a good sum in the market, nor was it old enough to be a family trinket. Her thumb runs down its hilt, pausing when it comes by carved letters on its underside.

"Sankta Marya," she reads off the metal. Saint Marya. When she glances up at her again, she's slightly taken aback by the unease clouding her eyes. Behind her, stands Kaz.

Ginny moves quickly then, moving down the alley, under the tunnel, to its end. She'd never meant her thievery, petty as it was, to be of such adversity. She wasn't interested in messing with Brekker's girl. The Wraith.

"I'll be sure to bring her back to you," she calls back as she rounds the corner. Her words hold little value - after all, they are just words.

On second thought, she realizes she doesn't care.

"Or not."

Ginny doesn't miss the clink of the dagger against the wall she'd been standing in front of, a mere second ago.

She can't help but grin.

iv.

They call her the Rogue.

Ginny never wanted to be her.

It's amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm but there she is, standing in front of the building she knew he'd be in.

But then he's always there. Weighing heavily in her mind. That's perhaps why she wants him off her charts, why she needs to get rid of him in her life.

She doesn't take the entrance. She walks by the walls, her right hand on the rough bricks, feeling them scratch against her palms, sensing the parts where the cement had fallen prey to wreckage. When she finds her place, she wills the bricks there to move, the atoms to rearrange, the molecules to shift. And when they do, she's left with a hole in the wall, big enough for her to get in and get out. She's chosen a spot not travelled much, but even so, as she steps into a room she can only assume as the basement, she wills the bricks back in place.

Ginny's out of the door in a flash, the lockpicker safely back under her belt. She walks down the corridors, up the steps. Her back is to the main entrance as she makes her way to the stairs, and she's thankful she's dyed her hair black, for no one looks twice at her.

When she reaches the top level of the building, his office, or at least, what they call it, it's not hard to find. It's in the corner, and while all the other rooms are flocking with people, his is barren. Empty.

But she knows he's in there.

And she's right, for when she reaches the end, she sees him through the glass, his back towards her and his face towards the window.

Her heart skips a beat, seeing his eyes on the glass, their reflection. She hates that a mere glimpse of him can twist her heart like that, but she doesn't know if it's the familiarity or just the sight of him that unnerves her.

Ginny slips in, not making a sound, and wills the glass to change. She can't afford to let people see them together.

She knows he's aware of her there but when he turns around, she doesn't look at him, for she looks only at the glass, and not him, never him, but he's watching, and she's waiting until the glass is fully opaque. Avoiding him.

"Gin."

Ginny gasps sharply, for it's her name. It's her name, the name he calls her with, and it's the name that's completely and entirely belonged to her. It's different hearing his voice say that name, and it's painfully jarring, reminding, and she hates it.

"Don't call me that."

It's then she looks at him, his green eyes, nothing but reminiscent of what she once had been. They remind her of the sea on a cloudy day, where it reveals little blue, just the green shining through its depths.

He isn't surprised, but his eyes hold emotion she could never begin to understand.

"What should I call you then?"

"Not what you used to." Her words are sharp, inflicting, but she wants it that way.

He nods, but the look in his eyes has changed.

Ginny holds out the medallion, the family crest. The metal is cold against her fingers, a cold that holds the promise of misery. She wishes to be done with it quickly. "Malfoy Manor," she says, but he makes no move to take it from him.

He shakes his head, and she knows he doesn't understand.

"It's where the Mercher is," she explains. "It's where Riddle is."

Information. A location. It's half the job done.

But it doesn't feel any different, none that freeing, and even though logic states that she has, in a way done the job for him, found his guy for him and no longer owes him anything more, it still feels as if she's trapped. Held back. Suffocating.

She doesn't feel any relief.

"How?" he wonders, and when he gently takes the medallion from her, she makes sure their fingers don't touch. "How did you find this?"

"I think the question here should be why I gave you this."

He looks at her then, and there's an unfocused look in his eyes, and she knows he's already there, at the Manor, plotting his play. But then they come back to her, and he looks at her with a longing she'd once been glad to see, but now, it's positively jarring.

She stares back at them, and she knows there's a thousand ways she can answer her question.

But only one she can say.

"This is not a favour," she says, "this is payment. For what I need from you."

And for what you did.

"What do you need me for?"

"Brekker."

"What does…" He stops midway, for he knows he's not getting an answer. Instead, his eyes change, and Ginny feels it's a game, set by him, solved by her, the mystery held in his eyes. Hers are blank, unexpressive, how she'd always wanted them to be. Lately, she'd been regretting it. But his? His, she couldn't begin to explain.

"I have to go," he says, "and I have to finish this."

She struggles to keep her smile in. For everything she owed him, she's always admired how selfless he was. After everything, it just meant she hadn't been wrong about him.

"I know," she breathes in, looking at him. "I know, Harry."

For some reason, she can't bring herself to call him Potter.

#fanfiction #hinny fanfiction #harry/ginny #romance #crime #angst #fluff #Sherry Lips and Crystal Stars #Shadow and Bone AU #Heartrender Harry Potter #Materialki Ginny Weasley #POV Ginny Weasley #Slight divergence from canon #in terms of power #written for the H/G discord's birthday challenge

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addercharmer · 3 years ago

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Izumi had come to the first day of school at the same time as Nezu, she knew she could have left an hour after him and still arrived on time, but she was anxious and hadn't wanted to wait.

She was in class one-A again, with Nezu as her homeroom teacher. The door wasn't as intimidating this time, she opened it wide enough to slip in without hesitation.

With a quick look at the board for the seating chart Izumi cursed Nezu in her head. The desks were staggered so the odd numbered rows all matched and the even numbered rows matched.

Izumi was placed in the second last row in front and between Aizawa and Yamada, in the last seat of the row closest to the wall, the seat that had been given to the person next to her wasn't known.

The room was empty so Izumi made her way to her desk and pulled out her laptop. She had work from her mathematics class she could work on as she waited for others to show up.

The first person to arrive was surprisingly her neighbor, the name on the board was Shirakumo Oboro, the blue haired boy skipped to his desk with a cheery smile spread on his lips.

"Hi, I'm Shirakumo Oboro." He introduced himself, there was a nervous edge to his voice.

"Nezu Izumi." She returned casually, there is a part of her freaking out over the fact that his voice is familiar as is the shape of his hair, but Izumi can't place from where.

Shirakumo's grin started to slip off his face, a small frown taking over. "Nezu as in our teacher Nezu?" He asked.

"Un, he adopted me two years ago. Don't worry, I've already graduated highschool, I'm just here for heroics." Izumi tried to reassure the boy that there would be no favoritism.

Shirakumo's eyes started to widen, and he looked like he was moments away from fainting.

"Are you okay?" Izumi asked, worried she had done something wrong.

"Already...but...why do high school again?" She heard him mumble.

"Oh, I graduated general studies only, I don't have the best control of my quirk. I was a late bloomer, only got it a few years ago." Izumi shared, still unsure as to what she had said wrong.

"Oh so it's like high specs then?" Shirakumo asked, he was starting to get some color back on his face.

"Oh, no. I have electrokinesis that should form energy whips." Once again Shirakumo loses color, but Izumi's attention is dragged away by Aizawa skulking into the room.

Izumi waits for him to find his seat next to the wall to stand and walk over to him.

"I'm Nezu Izumi. I just wanted to thank you, without you I would have died from blood loss." She tells the dark haired boy as she gives a small bow.

Aizawa grunts at her and looks at the scar that is barely visible at the hem of her skirt.

Behind her Shirakumo yelps and asks. "Died from blood loss?"

Izumi looks over her shoulder and blinks at the boy before giving a shrug. She doesn't really want to talk about it, but it seems Aizawa will.

"Yeah, the problem female got pinned by half a building and almost bled out." He shrugs too, Izumi is glad that he seems unaffected by what had happened.

Izumi holds her hand out for a hand shake and says hopefully. "I hope we can be friends Aizawa-kun."

Aizawa's eyes sharpened and he crossed his arms. "I'm not here to make friends, and I never gave you my name, you stalking me?" His voice has a faint growl, and Izumi blinks at him dumbly.

"Your name is on the board, I figured logically that was your name as it's the one assigned to this desk." Izumi is pulling on her knowledge of future Aizawa as she addresses his question.

The door interrupts any other conversation when it opens and a cluster of students come in. Izumi doesn't recognize any of them, briefly she wonders if Nezu is like Aizawa and has a high expulsion rate.

Sitting back in her seat, giving up for the moment at making Aizawa her friend, she goes back to her online homework.

At five minutes to the beginning of class the door slams open roughly catching Izumi's attention, Yamada struts through the door in a rather comical way. His eyes scan the class before he all but skips over to Izumi.

"Izumi-chan!" He exclaimed when he's only a few steps away from her. "What are the chances that my damsel in distress is in my class!"

Izumi blushes a deep cherry red and sputters.

She's saved by Shirakumo. "Shirakumo Oboro, did you also help Nezu-san from bleeding out in the exam?" Izumi rethinks her thoughts of Shirakumo saving her, he's a traitor.

Yamada gasps and hauls her up from her chair. "You WHAT?" His voice slips into his quirk, making Izumi's ears ring.

"Shhhhhh." Izumi says loudly, as she hangs from Yamada hold. "Nezu-sensei will be here soon, get to your seat Yamada-kun."

It's just as Yamada's name passes her lips that the stoat slips into the room, Izumi tracks him with her eyes. She's embarrassed that she's still being held in the air by her armpits when Nezu makes eye contact with her, a gleam of something sadistic in his eyes.

"Everyone to your seats!" He says and claps his paws together.

The class is quiet, and then a large portion of the class starts exclaiming over an animal being their teacher. Izumi isn't really all that surprised, humans usually are horrible creatures that believe they are the highest on any scale.

"How lovely." Nezu comments, his smile turning predatory. "Anyone who has an issue with me teaching may go speak with the principal." Ten of the twenty-two students in the room get up and walk out, Nezu's smile gets sharper.

"Good now that we have weeded out the weak." Izumi shivers a little, still being held up by Yamada.

Huffing a breath she kicks out her leg and hits the blond male in the meat of the thigh, he yelps and let's go of her quickly.

"Please take your seat Yamada-kun." Nezu directs again before moving on. "I am Nezu, I will be your homeroom teacher for as long as you are in the hero course. My quirk, high specs gives me one of the highest IQ ever recorded. Now we will be doing some assessment, I would like you in groups of four please."

Shirakumo and Yamada both look at her, one because he's been told she's smart and the other she assumes because she's the only one he had gotten a chance to speak to.

Looking between the two she points at Aizawa. "Only if he agrees to join too."

Aizawa looks at her, scandalized. "Don't drag me into your loud person group." He all but snaps.

"Sorry Aizawa-kun, but you're stuck with me. You saved me so you're automatically my friend." Izumi tells him in a deadpan voice.

Nezu appears at Izumi's side between her and Shirakumo, his smile is full of teeth. "Izumi, here is a scenario." He hands her a flash card. "With your group, find the best solution you can, if you were a hero."

Izumi looks at the card, she hadn't been allowed to help write up the scenarios, but she knew it was meant to be if they as a group were in the scenario how they would use their quirks for the best solution.

"Sure, any handicaps I need to know about dad?" She doesn't really think anything of calling him dad, but has second thoughts when the three males around her sputter.

"No pup, but remember I'm your sensei here." He pats her knee affectionately and walks away.

"Dad?" Yamada whisper-yells, Izumi can tell how hard he's working not to use his quirk.

"Oh, right. Yea Nezu adopted me two years ago, just after my quirk developed." She told the two boys who weren't there before.

Turning to read the scenario Izumi just misses the way the three males all look at eachother alarmed, the smartest being ever adopted a child that if they are reading things right had a forced manisafasion late in life.

"An unknown number of villains has a group of twenty hostages, they also have enhancement drugs. They have taken over a small cafe, and are demanding a fellow villain be released from prison. Your team of four has less than an hour. Use the quirks available." Izumi reads off the card.

"Okay, so tell me your quirks." She demands when the boys are silent she huffs and offers her own first. "I have electrokinesis that allows me to make energy whips."

"I create clouds?" Shirakumo asks more than answers her question, the itch at the back of her mind telling her she knows this boy gets worse.

"Oh! Mine is voice! Well my voice gets really loud and I can hit really crazy frequencies!" Yamada explains excitedly.

Aizawa just glares at Izumi like she asked him to kill a kitten.

"I can just ask Nezu-sensei or you can tell me. I already told you, you saved me. It automatically makes you my friend. Yamada saved me too, from a less life threatening event, but saved me nonetheless. Shirakumo hasn't saved me yet but I'm sure he will at some point so he's gonna be my friend too. So we are all friends here!" Izumi threatens and rambles.

"I can erase quirks." Aizawa sounds like he's in pain telling her that.

Izumi makes her eyes go wide like she's surprised and starts to ramble at him like she had always wanted to.

"Oh my god! That's so amazing! How long can you hold it? What are the tells? Is it all quirk types you erase? Is there a limit to how many? Can you erase your own quirk? What would happen to dad if you erased his quirk? If someone has a longevity quirk if you erase it do they age rapidly? You plan on underground heroics?"

Aizawa's looking at her with an expression between lost and fascinated. "Yeah, I want to go underground." Is all he says, Izumi huffs again exasperated with the lack of actual answers.

"Shirakumo, are your clouds solid? Like if I stepped on one would I fall through?" She asks, it's important to know for this exercise.

"Uh, yeah?" The blue haired boy sounds lost and Izumi is about ready to give up with the male.

"Great, so for this scenario I would have Aizawa sneak into the building and survey the area, Yamada and Shirakumo would be a distraction, I myself would take out the power to the building. Priority would be getting the hostages out, second would be capture. No plan actually survives contact so it's best that we could keep communication, my quirk has the most versatility so I would be front line, Shirakumo would be on evacuation, Yamada would be my visible back up, and Aizawa would be behind the scenes back up." Izumi tells them her idea, she's expecting a little bit of resistance, they are boys and in her experience boys don't like being told what to do by girls.

"Holy shit." Yamada whisper-yells, his eyes wide with shock and awe.

Aizawa grunts at her, he's giving her a once over again, like he's reassessing his original thoughts.

Shirakumo looks to be a little afraid of her as he nods along. "Did you know she's already graduated high school?" He asks in what Izumi assumes he thinks is a whisper.

"I have my teaching and quirk counseling license." She corrects, and then freezes.

"HOLY SHIT!" Yamada slips into using his quirk. Aizawa's eyes flash red and his hair floats. Shirakumo starts to cry.

Izumi just wants to disappear, she really wishes she had an invisibility quirk.

#rewound #dad nedzu #bnha #female midoriya izuku #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #shirakumo oboro #chapter7

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siren1song · 5 years ago

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I wrote a fic in response to art again. This time it’s this really cool piece done by @strawberryjellystuff

I’m ngl I’m like crazy proud of this one.

Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @demidork84, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17

Got a Darkside

The moon shined behind him, illuminating the path he had taken up to this point. But where Roman had to go, no natural light would reach. The trees looked black, the moonlight not daring to touch within ten feet of the forest.

Roman swallowed hard, adjusting his grip on the torch he had just lit so he could make his way to where he wanted- needed to go. And then he stepped out of the light and into the eclipsing darkness, chills shooting down his spine at the choice he had just made.

He was no coward, he needed to make this journey, overwhelming evil aura or not.

With a deep breath Roman adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag, the weight of the importance it carried making his chest feel like stone. He could do this, just one step in front of the other and he’d be back home with the things he needed to save-

“You can do this,” he whispered to himself, continuing to walk through the trees, the mushrooms practically glowing against the light of his torch.

The forest was filled with magic, and even someone with about as much magic as a cog like Roman could feel it. He couldn’t tell if it was as dark as mages made it out to be though, he had no magic to speak of, no way to tell the difference between light and dark magic.

There was no way to tell if the decision he was making was the right one, but he had no money for a trustworthy healing mage, nothing of note that a lord may want to help him save his best friend from the magical illness.

And he knew it was magical in nature. There was no mundane illness that he could find that caused the inky black veins running under Virgil’s skin. No matter how many times he bothered the village clinician, Doctor Logan Ackroyd, there just wasn’t an answer caused by non magical means.

So into the forest Roman was going, in search of the supposed dark mage that lived there. Hoping beyond hope he might be able to convince a man rumored to be as dark as they came to help him where money greedy mages of the kingdom wouldn’t.

Snap!

Roman whipped around, extending his torch so the flames would light any potential danger. He had to protect his handbag, it carried the only bargaining chip he had.

He had to protect himself as well, seeing as he was Virgil’s only hope of survival right now.

Nothing stepped into the light of fire, but Roman’s heart didn’t settle from his throat. He felt eyes on him, and the feeling made his skin crawl as if there roaches making their home underneath it.

“Keep going, Roman, you need to get to the center of the forest,” he mumbled to himself, his eyes constantly flicking about the trees, every movement and sound catching his attention.

Roman walked for twenty more minutes before he realized with an abrupt chilling terror that the sounds had stopped and the forest had somehow grown darker while he wasn’t paying attention.

He stopped, his grip on the strap of his shoulder bag tightening as he tilted his head this way and that, listening for signs of life.

Total silence and fear spilling down his spine, spreading to his ribs, constricting his chest until his breaths were quick and uneven.

No, he couldn’t panic right now, not when Virgil needed him.

But he didn’t have a weapon. Not even the sword he’d forged himself under his apprenticeship with the blacksmith. All he had was his fists and the knowledge of fighting he’d gained from his days on the streets when he was young, roughhousing with a brother he barely remembered.

Suddenly there was sound again, but only one. It slid in the grass and leaves, sending a sound not unlike a hiss to Roman’s ears. He tensed, looking around frantically as he struggled to pinpoint where it was coming from.

The feeling of eyes on his back intensified, and Roman whirled around.

Paralyzing fear locked up his limbs as snake eyes filled his vision, poison yellow and bright with power.

And yet it wasn’t a colossal snake in front of him but a man. A man with scales decorating half his face and powerful magic seeming to emanate off of his skin, almost as if he was feeding the forest around him. Which should be impossible, it was the magic in nature itself that gave mages their power, their connection and respect of the earth and sea and sky giving them abilities the mundane could never hope to have.

“You’re in my forest,” the mage said, stating a fact as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle and Roman was a piece.

Roman nodded, struggling to keep his breathing even in the face of the fear squeezing his lungs. Was this the mage of the forest he’d heard whispers of? The man no one seemed to have any information on beyond he was powerful and he preferred to be left alone?

“Why?”

The mage narrowed his eyes at Roman, suspicious of his intentions if he had a guess. Roman didn’t blame him, he’d be suspicious too if people spoke of him this way and suddenly a stranger appeared in his home.

“I-” he stopped, the fear in his lungs constricting tighter, halting his words.

With an irritated hiss, the mage glanced to the side. His eyes never locked on anything, almost as if he was looking at the forest itself.

The fear eased, and Roman could finally breathe.

What the hell? Did this mage just look to the forest itself and make it ease on the paranoia it was causing him?

Just how powerful was he?

“I need help,” Roman said, his voice hoarse and weak as it left him.

The mage looked at him again, tilting his head to the side as he searched Roman’s face like he was looking for something.

“I had assumed you wanted something, tell me what it is. I’ll decide if it was a fruitless endeavor on your part.”

Roman swallowed, glancing at the trees around him as the darkness seemed to grow even darker, the shadows reaching for his form, held at bay by the glow of his torch and the command of the mage.

“My best friend is sick, something is draining his life and I have found no non magic illness to cause the blackness filling his veins.”

The mage sneered, his fingers twitching at his side and the shadows lurching just a few feet closer. Roman’s fear returned, this time all his own.

“You couldn’t go to the light mages for help? I’m sure this type of heroism is exactly what they get off on.”

Roman grit his jaw, anger flaring at the memory of his meeting with the cheapest mage he could find.

“I’m poor, barely above a street rat as a blacksmith’s apprentice. They wouldn’t help me unless I gave them my life, and even then they wouldn’t do everything in their power to save the life of my friend.”

The mage paused at the rage in Roman’s voice, his face smoothing back into curiosity as he looked at him.

“And what makes you think I’ll do what you need for free?”

Roman took a deep breath. This was the one question he had been prepared for. He opened his shoulder bag, pulling out the only thing he had to offer a mage who had been cut off from society, and as far as Roman knew, contact.

A blanket. An afghan to be more specific. It was the only thing he had managed to keep from his mother before she passed and he was left on the streets. The only thing he and his brother had shared without a fight before he had been taken by guards for showing signs of magic.

The mage inhaled sharply, his eyes widening as they locked on the wool in Roman’s hands.

“I… hope it’s not insulting. I’ve heard sentimental magic can be powerful, and I know the weight of this blanket has gotten me through some very lonely years. It’s yours, if you will help me.”

Snake eyes snapped up to look at Roman’s face, making him flinch away, scared he may have insulted the most powerful man he had ever met.

“...Alright. Bring him here, and I will see what I can do. You leave the blanket with me, though.”

Roman’s grip on the afghan tightened, closing his eyes as he struggled to come to terms with the fact he’d have to part with it sooner than he anticipated.

“Do you have a way that would make it easier to bring him? He’s been bedridden for weeks, and my village is a week’s travel by foot,” he said, finally opening his eyes to be met with a surprised look from the mage.

It was almost as if he hadn’t expected Roman to agree so easily.

Roman was too desperate to save his friend to argue. If this mage could help, if Roman could get him to help Virgil, he would do anything short of taking his own life or the lives of innocents.

“I may have a way to help, if you promise me one more thing,” the mage said, confusing Roman.

“What may that be?”

The mage hesitated, eyes going from Roman’s face to the shadows around them that had slinked back during their conversation, to the blanket in his hands, and finally back to his face.

“Your name, and… continued companionship, once your friend is healthy.”

Roman blinked, staring at the mage in surprise. Of all the things he had been expecting to have to give up, his time had not been one of them. At least, not in the way the mage was asking.

Then he grinned, charming smile naturally slipping into place and confident squaring of his shoulders making the remaining fear he felt melt from his muscles.

“You may call me Roman. And I’d be happy to return for more leisurely activities once my friend is saved.”

The mage seemed taken off guard once again, though his own inviting smile graced his features. He took a few steps forward, gently tugging the afghan from Roman’s arms and into his own.

“And I am known as Deceit, but I suppose I’ll allow you to call me Dee.”

#casper writes #ts roman #ts janus #ts virgil #implied future roceit #platonic prinxiety #mage deceit #one mention of logan #ive noticed its a trend for me to write deceit as really powerful #especially when it comes to magic #im not really complaining it just seems to be a trend with me #anyway i hope you guys like this im v proud of it

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heatherthetiredwriter · 4 years ago

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The Skrill

So @noctusfury asked me a question recently, and it's actually been something I've been wondering for a while, but I was just too lazy to figure it out. I'm finally going for it now, so here we a-go.

The question had a few layers and was honestly great fun for me to find the answers too, because I love going the extra mile (for knowledge stuff, never in the physical sense.) The question was, can you ride a Skrill? (And then what would you have to wear in order to not ya know, die?)

The most obvious answer is plot armor. It solves everything. It's the writing equivalent to hitting things with a hammer in the Sims. But surprisingly enough, even though all the characters in How To Train Your Dragon and all the spin off shows have a ton of plot armor, no one ever rode a Skrill. The two closest times were when Dagur was using the Skrill to fire at Hiccup by pulling on ropes tied to where it's wings connected. (Le badly recorded fight right below, why? Just because making thing's longer sometimes makes it seem like you know more)

youtube

One important thing about this video is that it is one of the few times the plot armor fails and someone gets the consequences of playing around with Electricity. (The other two times I can think of is Spitelout being shot in the head by the Skrill and speaking gibberish for the rest of the episode and Astrid temporarily going blind.)

The only other instance where someone is almost riding a Skrill is with Hiccup and Toothless. This one makes absolutely no sense, and to this day still ticks me off.

In the big ending fight of How To Train Your Dragon: the Hidden World, Toothless and Hiccup are flying, and all these Deathgrippers are attacking them, Hiccup says they need to get out of the situation, and Toothless does this...

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You have no idea how much this bothers me. First off, Hiccup has a metal leg, which is connected to a metal sort of stirrup, and not to mention all the other metal he wears. The lightning that Toothless makes is powerful enough to knock off all the Deathgrippers, but it does nothing to Hiccup, who wears FREAKING METAL! HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD! Or at least several years burnt and injured. But no, he’s got plot armor. (Yes, you can argue that Toothless' scales protected him, like they do with the fire, but wouldn't protect Hiccup to that extent.)

Which finally, leads back to our question, what would one wear when Riding a dragon that is constantly gathering and shooting lightning?

Most of the Electrical insulators that would keep a dragon rider safe while Riding on a Skrill would be stuff the dragon riders canonly don't have in the movies, while great Electrical conductors are being worn as hard and belts.

One of the most well known insulators would be rubber. Unfortunately for the vikings, rubber wasn't invented until 1893, while Vkings would have been around from 793 AD to 1066. (Who knows, maybe they had rubber anyways? Or maybe you just don't care since HTTYD a fictional setting and you're fine with handwaving the fact that rubber wasn't invented until at least 827 years later.)

Most likely the second most know insulator is glass. Until rubber stole the show, it was the sole insulator. Though we don’t see much of it, we know that the vikings have glass (ex. Looking glasses.) However, wearing a glass suit would be highly uncomfortable (unless you’re like Cinderella or something) and would be just not be practical.

After spending a lot of time looking through one list of good, strong insulators and countless physics websites (mind you, I haven't taken physics and I'm only basing it off my rememberence of the ways cells and atoms work from Biology class) I think I found one that vikings would have and that wouldn't break as easily as glass would. (but I haven’t given up on the glass thing)

(And just one more time, I'm not a scientist, I'm just a girl with basic understanding of words who can Google stuff, don't take my word as fact. I'm sure that some scientist could find a better solution, but this is the best I could come up with in two hours.)

For armor, I have an idea, but that idea needs to be processed and stuff like that, because so far you couldn't move in it, but, for regular clothing items that you could wear that would at least protect you from it.

(Okay, random fact time, skin is actually a good insulator... it's just some of the waters in our body aren't... they are conductors... so if you wanted to be super creepy, your rider could wear human skin.... but uhhhhhhhhhhh.... let's stick with the child friendly option for now...)

The outfit would have to use four items. Quartz fibers, Quartz (mostly for where anything metal would have been), Leather, and Cotton. (Yeah, leather and Cotton are good insulators too.) I would suggest Cotton undergarments (by which I mean undershirt and probably underpants), and then leather over it, with quartz fiber at least over your chest and around your head (quartz fibers can be more of a roll of metal looking thing, or a soft fabric, though for the outer details I'd suggest the metal looking thing). Top it off with some tiny quartz accents, and BAM!

You’re a crystal Princess (or prince), who in theory wouldn’t die while riding your beloved Skrill. (That’s right, this is all in theory, I could be dead wrong.)

But for a hot second, let's assume I'm right, and you don't die from the millions and millions of Watts of electricity that your dragon produces, how exactly does one ride a Skrill?

This one is actually really simple (and it was sort of inspired from Hello Future Me's video on how Skrill account shoot lighting, you should probably watch that if you wanted to know this much on Skrills.)

As he points out in the video, the crown, on the head of the dragon is the only place where the spikes don't attack the deadly lighting.

Now back to that Dagur controlling the Skrill video (haha! I knew there was a good reason I put it in here!) (also, I tried to get a picture of what I was talking about, but it's nearly impossible to get the quality to where you can see it.)

Dagur had the leather strap on the area right below the crown, where there is a few feet before the spines that draw the metal start up. You have two options here.

The Skrill obviously doesn't shock itself, so ride barebacked but be careful not to lean on it's spines or kick your feet (sitting there would put your feet where the wings connect to the body, which is the where Tim from Hello Future Me suggested they store up the energy, so kicking it would make the Skrill release it.)

Or you could make a wooden type chair (with a back, this is important. Leaning on those spines is not good. So you’d be the weird one with a wooden saddle, but hey, you’d be safe. (Leather saddles work okay too, but almost always have metal, and you don't want that.)

So yeah, handwaving the part where you probably couldn't get on a Skrill in the first place, the clothes would be uncomfortable and hot, you would get shocked more than once no matter what you are wearing, that we've only ever seen one Skrill, and that you couldn't bring metal weapons with you, and that I'm probably overlooking something because I'm tired and can't think straight, there you go!

There is your super long answer Noctus Fury. That was actually a lot of fun. (so about the length... I started writing it when I had no clue what my answer would be, so the beginning part is mostly just my thought process.) But yeah, that's all, I hope it helped????

I put Tim's video in, it's super short, you've probably already seen it, but it's great.

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#httyd #how to train you dragon: the hidden world #dragons: riders of berk #dragons: race to the edge #lightning #skrill #science #dagur #dagur the deranged #hiccup #toothless #hello future me

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