#This is disgrace for everyone who competed this year

[dream-this-nightmare-over]

WE DONT WANT JURIES IN FINALS NOR SEMIFINALS!!!!

Just like people are getting fired all over the world because AI is taking over their jobs and they aren't needed anymore, juries' opinion is not needed anymore nor wanted in this competition. Leave it to people to choose their champions.

[adventuringblind]

I See Your Beauty

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!reader

Genre: a little angst mixed with fluff and comfort

Summary: the youngest Verstappen is forced to do life without her vision. Thinking she might not be able fully experience her life due to the remarks of her father, she concedes that finding love is unlikely. Until she runs into Charles who helps her believe she doesn’t need her eyesight to be loved.

Warnings: Jos is his own warning now. Talks of disability and reader having an accident. Talks and depictions of verbal and physical abuse.

Request: nope this is self-indulgent. However, I am taking requests for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, and Daniel.

Notes: written in third person. Also, this fic deals with disabilities, particularly blindness. I myself am blind though I still have some vision left, which is mainly what I’m basing this off of. Please remember that blindness is a spectrum like many other disabilities. It is defined really by a loss of vision that can’t be corrected. I’m open to answering questions about it if y’all have any. My inbox and asks are always open :)

Masterlist

The youngest of the Verstappen’s very close with her brother, Max. The two are barely a year apart so it makes sense. Though they get in each others nerves often as well. Victoria doing her best as the oldest to settle arguments between the two.

Jos decided that two children in racing gives him better odd then just one. Electing to have both start karting at an early age.

They liked racing together. Getting used to being each others rocks when their father was harsher then necessary. It became routine for the two to defend each other.

Then everything changed.

The two were moving up through the ranks. Competing harder then ever to make your dad proud.

The accident wasn’t her fault. A consequence of her father from trying to build a faster car and not having test run it.

The engine exploded during the race. Every one of her senses ranged useless as she tried to react.

Ears ringing.

Smoke from the fire burning in her nose.

Blood from whatever hitting her knocking her teeth into her lip.

Heat nipping at her skin.

Lack of sight making her steering erratic.

Max had immediately rushed to aid his sister. Their father only staring in disappointment. He became resentful of his father that day.

The ambulance arrived and took you away. Max begged to go with but Jos ignored his request, telling him he needed help cleaning up his youngest daughter mess.

After hours the finally arrived back home. The other two Verstappen’s confused why the youngest was nowhere to be found. Max finally broke down in tears, much to his father dislike, and clutched Victoria for comfort. Telling her everything that had happened.

While three of them went to the hospital to find you, the fourth sat wallowing in disgrace at the display from his children today. He couldn’t admit he’d made a mistake. One that might have cost him a child.

Meanwhile the youngest was out of surgery. Continually crying for her family. The nurses had tried to reach her father who had given the medics his cell number, but they had yet to hear from him.

When her family arrived she tried her best to make out their faces. The sparks from the engine had been so bright that they burned her retinas. The combination of the fire doing permanent damage. The impact of the engine had knocked her helmet almost all the way off and she instinctively pushed it away to try and see again. The protection of the visor gone.

The three siblings cuddled together in her hospital bed. The youngest not fully comprehending why she couldn’t see. The lights were too bright. She was squinting to make out the small details.

Things didn’t improve after that. Jos became angry towards her. Constantly reminding the girl of what happened, what she did wrong, and how if she hadn’t messed up she might have been successful.

Regardless, she listened to him berate her at everyone of Max’s races. He stopped commenting about Max when she was within earshot. Mostly because she told him off every time he insulted her brother. Jos already deemed her the disappointment of the family, standing up for Max couldn’t possibly make things worse.

Max had also gotten more protective of his sister. Having been the one to pull her away from the wreckage and cleaning up the damage made him realize he didn’t want you to get hurt again.

He made it to every doctors appointment he could. He attended as much physical therapy as you would let him. He even put on a blind fold so he could understand a bit better. He helped her learn cane skills and how to guide you himself. All in an effort to help his sister feel less alone.

He was aware she still had some eyesight lift. Mostly cloudy and bright patches dotted her eyes making it difficult to make out where things are and any specific details. She liked seeing what she could of her siblings faces though.

Max determined he was going to bring you to every race with him. The Verstappen losing all ability to drive now making things harder for her and she didn’t want to stay with her father.

Victoria had a room for her in her house and let her stay when she needed. Max always made sure there was a room for her if she wanted to travel with him. She loved how willing her sibling were to help her out. However, it left her feeling useless and vulnerable at times.

Eventually, Max helped get her a job with Redbull as a strategist. She enjoyed playing with the different data. Listening became a more essential job then seeing.

Race days were spent in the garage unnoticed in the back. Hopefully out of view of the cameras and away from her father. They saw each other often, much to her dismay. He always had something to say to her when Max wasn’t around.

It was during her downtime that she met Charles.

~

Deciding her cane was unnecessary since she knew her way around the paddock and the ground is relatively flat, she went to hunt down her brother.

Neither party was paying attention leading to them running straight into each other. She could vaguely make out the Ferrari red race suit standing in front of her. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Came the voice of Charles Leclerc. Though the two had never formally met, she had heard during interviews enough to know his voice.

“It’s alright, neither was I.” She smiled at the Monegasque. “Have you seen Max anywhere?”

He chuckles. “Unfortunately no. Are you his girlfriend?”

The question makes her laugh hysterically. “I’m his sister.” She can hear him sigh in relief at the clarification.

“That’s better at least because I wanted to say that you are very beautiful.” The playfulness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Completely taking her off guard. Sure she’d gotten complements, but not often enough to make her used to them. The words of Jos not letting her believe them anyway. “Would it be alright if I give you my number?”

She lost all words in that moment. This had never happened before. “Sure-” she manages to stutter out before handing him her phone. The screen reading out things to her so she could get to her intended destination.

“I’ve never see a phone do that before.” Charles takes the phone from her and starts to put in his information.

She mentally face palms herself. Obviously he hasn’t realized she’s blind. “Actually I don’t have much of my eyesight.” She play with the bottom of her shirt. Her father having instilled in her that her blindness is something to be ashamed of.

“Wait- so you are blind? That is very interesting, I would like to know more if you’re okay with it.” The curiosity in his voice rising.

She wasn’t prepared for this. Nobody asks her questions about her condition. Even Christian doesn’t touch the subject and she never brings it up in conversation. “I guess, if your really interested.”

“Great, I’ll see you later tonight. Send me the address of where you’re staying.” His playful and flirty manner never faulted as he walked past her. Leaving the girl confused and blushing.

Little did she know that Charles had seen her around the paddock. Mostly hanging off of Max’s arm. He assumed she’d never notice him wave or try to get her attention. Turns out she couldn’t see him. He knows better then to assume. He blames it on the anxiety of being around her.

The youngest Verstappen finished up her duties as quick as possible. Catching a ride with her brother back to the hotel. He has learned to read her though and immediately noticed something was different. “What’s going on with you? You seem very smiley today.” He laughs.

“I can’t tell you because you’ll hate me.” She did her best not to appear nervous but was ultimately failing. Her hands fiddling in her lap.

“I could never hate you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

She glances over at him. Eyes planted on the road. His calm demeanor putting her at ease. “Charles Leclerc asked me on a date tonight.”

Max begins laughing hysterically. His once smooth driving now a bit jerky from his sudden movements. “You thought I would hate you because of a date?”

She stutters a bit. “Well- aren’t you two rivals?” She manages. His laughing throwing her emotions all over the place.

“Sure, on the track. Off the track we are still friends and I trust him.” He explains. Relief floods through her body at his words. Her confidence in the situation going up a little.

She can feel the smug look on Max’s face. “Do you want help getting ready?”

~

The two siblings spent over an hour playing dress up. Max eventually having to video call Victoria and ask her opinion. The two trying to make their sister feel like she owns the world.

Dressing is less tricky then make-up. Sometimes she didn’t feel like it was worth the struggle and didn’t put it on. Some day she had to call Victoria to make sure everything looked right. If there was good lighting she was typically fine, but tonight was not one of those nights.

Growing up between two sisters, Max had learned a decent amount about make-up. He even enjoyed getting to do it on his sisters if they would let him. The almost squeal he let our when his sister asked for help was both hilarious and ridiculous. Immediately setting things up on the bathroom counter and going to work.

Max could tell his sister was anxious. Their father having scared away any of your potential boyfriends. Even going as far as to tell they that she is diseased. One of the worst things about having Jos around the garage, is that you’re left with him.

Though Max has stepped in many time and even lectured his father about his word choices, he never let up on any of the Verstappen children. All of them getting some aspect of their father’s insecurity thrown back at them like it’s their fault.

When he was done, Max tried to sooth your nerves. “Dad isn’t around. He’s in his own hotel room. Go have fun.”

And that’s exactly what she did.

The conversation between her and Charles flowed. He asked questions that weren’t invasive and was respectful if she didn’t want to answer. He made her laugh ridiculously hard.

So they kept doing it. She had to follow Redbull for work which made things easier in the two. Finding down time to meet up or celebrating together after races.

After the season was over, the two went on a holiday together.

Charles spent a good amount of time learning from her (and in turn Max) how to guide if the need ever arose.

Charles was so gentle with her. Always letting her know if there was something unexpected around. Telling her who was in the room.

If felt like a dream. One she never wanted to wake up from. Charles had assured her multiple times that she wasn’t dreaming and that their love is very real.

But alas, Jos likes to make things difficult.

~

A few races into the new season, Charles still had yet to formally meet Jos and the Verstappen siblings intended on keeping it that way. It wasn’t secret. Everyone in the paddock know the two were dating. Jos just hadn’t had the chance to talk to him yet.

She’d mentioned her childhood a few times but could never get out the full extent of what happened. Charles thankfully is patient with her and lets her take her time. He knows Jos’ reputation. Her childhood couldn’t have been the most amazing with him around.

This particular race, she was forced into close proximity with him. There had been a mistake during a pit stop for Max which made him lose some positions. Ending the race in fifth. To her it isn’t bad at all, but to the angry Dutchman unleashing his fury on everything, it most certainly is.

Sensing his rising anger, she had pulled her father into a more secluded area. Hoping that Max wouldn’t come back to the garage for awhile. At least not before she could talk some sense into their father.

She said nothing as strings of curse words left his lips. Only waiting for him to run out of breath.

“Did you see how he got lazy? He would’ve finished higher after the idiots didn’t do their jobs if he had put in more effort.”

“Max put in all his effort and you know it.” She scoffs. Arms folded over her chest. This is nothing new to her.

“Like you have any room to talk.” He snaps back. Her head now sagging, knowing his anger is now finding a new direction.

Charles, on the other hand, had been looking for her. It’s his first win of the season and she is nowhere to be found. Max ran up to him as the podium celebration ended. Patting him on the back for his well earned win.

“Have you seen your sister anywhere, mate?” He asked the Dutch.

Max ponders for a moment. “She might still be in the garage debriefing after what happened.” He replies. “I can walk you over if you want.”

The two drivers made their way to the Redbull garage to find most of those who would normally be inside, standing outside in a huddle. “What the hell is happening?” Max shouts over to Christian as the two approach him.

“I was just about to go find you.” Christian sighs in exasperation. “Can I call security on your father? He hasn’t stopped shouting since the race finished up.”

Charles and Max exchanged glances. The young woman’s absence now making more sense. “I’ll try and talk him down.” Stated Max before weaving his way through the sea of Redbull shirts. Charles following close behind.

Before the two could get further away, Christian yelled out to them. “Good luck, your sister has been trying!” The statement make the two move faster.

Charles could feel his emotions bubbling as the shouting got louder. As him and Max turn the corner, he immediately spots who he’d been looking for. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she felt around the floor looking for something.

Max steps in between her and the angry Dutch, shouting back and forth in their native tongue. Charles tries to spot what she’s feeling for. Scanning the ground until he spots her phone. The entire thing shattered. Small pieces of glass just barely reflecting the light. He’s down by her side in an instant.

“Love, it’s Charles, max is here also, I’m going to get you out of here okay?”

Her body turns towards Charles. It’s then he notices the specks of blood dotting her hands from feeling around the glass and a deep purple bruise forming on her forehead.

She’s struggling to breath now. Listening to the angry shouts. The pain in her head and the bright fluorescents not helping her see anything. She back in the crash.

Her father had spend from the end of the race until now laying into her. She had successfully defended Max and thought she was prepared to take the brunt of it. Until he snatch her phone and threw it at her. It hit her head so hard she was in the ground in seconds. Trying to feel her way around to where it might have gone so she could call Max.

The words were so familiar to her. The ones she heard in her nightmares when she was once again surrounded by smoke and bright lights stealing away her vision.

“I don’t want to crash again Charles. It’s to hot. It hurts too much. I can’t see anything.” She tried to search for him but ended up with more glass in her palm. The tears only thickening.

“Stay put, okay? I’m going to help Max and then I’ll be right back.” He didn’t want to leave her on the floor. She looked like a child, and so did Max in this moment. The two getting their fathers wrath with no end in sight.

Charles sprints back to Christian, yelling at him to call security, then sprints back to Max.

“Mr. Verstappen I think you are out of line here.” Says the monegasque. Signaling Max to stay with you. He didn’t move at first but it was obvious he was getting nowhere, so he obliged. Kneeling down to help his sister calm her breathing.

Jos scoffs at Charles. “You have no right to get in between me and my children.” Anger pooling from his features.

“I mean no disrespect sir, but you’re being an asshole.”

“And is she-“ he jabs his finger at the girl on the floor, “-not disgusting.” Charles almost hits him but refrains from doing so knowing security will be arriving soon.

“On the contrary, I think she is an angel.”

“She’s diseased. She hasn’t even tried to fix her mistakes. Look at her! She just wants attention for what she did to herself!”

Now Charles doesn’t hesitate to punch him. His fist colliding with Jos’ jaw, sending him stumbling into the wall.

Max took his attention off his sister, who was leaning against him, and placed it on Charles. Shock clearly evident of his features.

Jos attempted to confront Charles again, but security finally showed up and escorted Jos out of the paddock.

Charles exhales, glad the confrontation is over. “That’s not how I imagined meeting your father for the first time.” Charles chuckles nervously.

Is doesn’t take much longer until Charles has his love safely wrapped in his arms. Whisking her away to his hotel room. Max had stayed ti make sure everything got cleaned up at the paddock. Kelly arriving shortly with Penelope in tow, ready to comfort Max.

She cried when they were finally safe inside. Pouring out to Charles about the accident and what it had caused in her life. He listened intently, doing his best to soothe the girl. Her panic still clearly evident.

Soon enough she’d calmed. Her head laying in Charles lap while he threaded his fingers through her hair.

“It don’t care what anyone else says. I see your beauty and it is not defined by what you can’t see.”

[trashpandato]

Lunge and Parry

Just a short little thing that was inspired by this Tweet

---

Lena is thrilled. Thrilled and sweaty.

She hasn’t had to be on her toes this much against an opponent in a long time and she’s enjoying every second of it. It’s not a big surprise; this is the championship bout after all, so the woman currently advancing on her would have had to win against top notch fencers in the tournament to get to this point. 

Lena isn’t very familiar with her. Kara Danvers is her name and as far as Lena knows, she hasn’t been fencing competitively for very long, or else their paths would surely have crossed a few times already. The world of fencing is small, and even smaller once you get to the level where they are at, competing for one of the few remaining spots on the Olympic fencing team.

Either way, Lena isn’t about to let some newbie beat her. She’s worked too hard for this, and Lillian likes to remind her of that every chance she gets, like now, when she yells at Lena from the sidelines while Lena works to parry Kara’s current attack.

“That was pathetic,” she hears her mother scoff. “I’ve paid your coaches thousands of dollars and this is the best you can manage?”

Lena tries to tune her out as she bounces backwards on her feet. Kara’s fencing style is aggressive. It’s effective, the score is close, but Lena sees that Kara is a little bit reckless at times, and she’s been scoring points off defensive moves more than she usually does in her bouts.

It works. She’s up 12-9 and there are less than 30 seconds left. Lena figures she can goad Kara into one or two more lunges and either avoid contact or score her own points off a defensive thrust. It’s an uphill battle for her opponent, and Kara is likely to go all in on her offense in an attempt to even up the score.

It’s a solid strategy, defend her lead and win. But then, as she takes a quick step back in the wake of Kara lunging at her, Lena’s right knee buckles. She hears a pop and loses her balance. As soon as her back hits the piste, Lena feels excruciating pain shoot up her leg, and she knows immediately that it’s bad. 

Then a few things happen all at once. Lena focusses on her breathing and on trying to muffle the sounds she is making. She doesn’t want to cry, not here, not in front of everyone, but the pain in her leg is beyond anything she’s ever felt before, and she can’t help but let out small whimpers as she tries to roll onto her side. Then, her coach is there, helping her pull her helmet off. He is asking her questions that barely register, and Lena tries to hold in a yelp when he touches her leg. But the thing that captures most of her attention is her opponent, Kara, who is kneeling down next to her with a deeply concerned frown on her face.

“Get up,” Lillian hisses from somewhere behind Lena. “Luthors aren’t quitters.”

Lena clenches her jaw. She doesn’t really see the point of trying to finish the bout. Even if she is able to get up and stand, she knows she can’t fence properly with her knee in its current state. There are still 20 seconds left and Kara would have no problem scoring enough points to win. If she stays down and forfeits, Kara wins, too. Either way, it’s over for Lena.

“Do you think you can continue?” Her coach asks.

As much as Lena wants to yell no and tell both him and Lillian to fuck off, she knows she’ll never hear the end of it if she gives up now. Lillian is going to spend the next twenty years reminding her that she’s a disgrace to the Luthor name, too weak, too soft. Maybe she can try and hobble on one leg for 20 seconds and maybe, just maybe it’ll be enough.

Lena nods. She’s not sure she can speak at this point, so she sticks to glaring at her mother and shifting around a bit to let her coach hook his arm under her right shoulder to help her up. When she wobbles immediately, Lena feels a second set of hands on her. Her head snaps around and she’s met with a very close-up view of blonde hair, tan skin and vibrant blue eyes.

“Careful,” Kara says as she helps Lena to her feet and lets her lean against her for balance for a few seconds.

It’s only when Kara is sure that Lena can stand on her own that she lets go, and Lena immediately misses how steady her hands felt on her body. They lock eyes and Kara asks:

“You sure you want to finish the bout?”

Lena isn’t sure. She can’t put any of her weight on her right leg at all, and the throbbing pain is so distracting that she completely misses her coach’s instructions for what to do now. But she nods anyway. She doesn’t think she has much of a choice. She’ll try to stay upright and maybe, with some luck, she can stay out of the way of Kara’s attacks long enough to maintain her lead. It’s 20 seconds. All she has to do is get through 20 seconds.

Kara nods back at Lena and then, just before she slips her helmet back on, Lena thinks she spots a small smile on her opponent’s face. Her stomach sinks. Kara isn’t stupid. She’s a talented fencer. She’ll know how to outmaneuver a severely limited Lena with ease to score enough points to win three times over. And that smile on Kara’s face tells Lena all she needs to know. Kara is probably already planning her victory celebration.

Lena sighs, puts her helmet on and hobbles into position. She can barely move. Anytime she jostles her right leg by hopping around on her left, the pain shooting up and down her body makes her feel dizzy. Even just keeping her balance enough to stay upright seems like an impossible challenge.

The referee tells them to get ready and Lena lifts her foil and her chin, and tries to drown out the run-on commentary coming from her mother. She knows she’s going to lose, but she can at least try and keep her pride intact. 

“Allez,” the referee tells them and Lena hobbles backwards to put distance between herself and Kara. Her main strategy now is to stay out of her way as much as possible.

Kara, as she has done throughout the bout, bounces on her feet and gets into position to lunge. Lena braces herself for the attack but then Kara simply bounces backwards, toward her end of the piste. Lena is confused. It could very well be a set up for a running attack, one where Kara needs more space to generate momentum, but it’s not something she’s seen Kara do before. Still, she tries to set her feet as much as possible to give herself a chance to dodge whatever move Kara has planned.

But nothing happens. Kara continues to bounce on her feet far away from Lena. Her foil is up and ready but it doesn’t look like she’s going to approach at all. Lena can hear Lillian’s voice, biting and loud as always, but she can’t hear what her mother is saying. She is too focussed on Kara and the fact that she’s not attacking at all.

And then the buzzer signals that time’s up, that the bout is over.

Lena moves towards Kara. She’s on autopilot, hobbling two steps but before she can even reach the middle of the piste to shake her opponent's hand, Kara is there, pulling her into a hug that Lena knows is meant to be congratulatory but ends up feeling more like something else. Kara is a bit taller than her, her shoulders broader, and in that moment, Lena feels cocooned and safe even as her thoughts oscillate between confusion, elation and irritation.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Lena snaps.

They’re still hugging and Lena doesn’t intend to let go anytime soon, but the words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

She feels more than hears Kara chuckle. “What?”

“You shouldn’t have let me win.”

Lena expects Kara to pull away, to tell her to go fuck herself. It’s what she would do if their roles were reversed. Instead, Kara only hugs her more tightly and even presses a soft kiss to Lena’s forehead before she pulls back a little to look at her.

“You won fair and square,” Kara tells her with a smile on her face before pulling Lena back against her body, one hand gently cradling the back of Lena’s head.

The whole moment feels like an out-of-body experience to Lena. They’re competitors who barely know each other, and here she is in Kara’s arms like they’re best friends. Kara even kissed her fucking forehead. A part of Lena wants to pull away and ask her what the hell her deal is, but something about this moment feels too good to fight it. 

So Lena doesn’t.

“Will you let me buy you a drink,” Lena asks and her voice is muffled because her face is still pressed against Kara’s shoulder. “To make it up to you.”

There’s another chuckle and then Kara takes a careful step back but holds Lena up with firm hands on her upper arms.

“Let’s get your knee sorted out first, okay?”

And just like that the spell between them is broken. Lena sees her coach approach her, and somewhere behind him are two EMTs who are pushing a wheelchair towards her. Lillian is there, too, of course, barking instructions at the EMTs to take Lena to Lakeview Hospital, even though that’s on the other side of the city, but Lena knows the Luthors have connections to several surgeons there.

In the flurry of activities around her, Kara disappears out of view as soon as Lena is helped into the wheelchair. Lena is sure she won’t see her again, at least not for a while. Fencing will likely be out of the question for a few months until her injury heals, and that’s pretty much all she knows about Kara, that she is a fencer. As she is pushed out of the building and into the back of the waiting ambulance, the door closes with a loud bang. Lena tries not to cry.

Lillian’s connections and large donations to the hospital mean that Lena heads into surgery that very same evening. Both her ACL and MCL are shot, and while the surgeon manages to repair both, he tells her that recovery will take many months and a lot of hard work. It’s not something Lillian likes to hear.

“She can’t miss that much time. She’ll have to prepare for the Olympics.”

The drugs in Lena’s system allow her to doze off during the argument between her surgeon and Lillian that follows. 

When Lena wakes up the following morning, Lillian is gone and Lena is thankful. The nurse tells her that her mother had to take care of some business matters but would return after lunch, and Lena can’t help but hope that Lillian might stay away longer. Her hopes are dashed when she hears a small knock, but when she looks up, it’s not Lillian who is hovering in the doorway. 

It’s Kara.

“Hey.” 

Kara is holding a large bouquet of flowers and is sporting that same small smile that Lena saw the day before just as they were about to finish their bout.

“You came,” Lena says, her voice still a little drowsy from sleep and the pain medication. 

Kara grins and pushes off the doorframe. Lena watches as she comes closer and deposits the flowers into a pitcher of water that’s sitting on the small table next to her bed. She’s pretty sure the water was meant for her to drink, but she feels too mesmerized to say anything to Kara, who is now standing right next to her bed.

“I did. Is that alright?”

Lena’s eyes drift towards where Kara’s hip is leaning against her bed and without thinking, she shifts her hand and reaches out to touch Kara’s, loosely letting her fingers curl around a warm, soft palm.

“More than alright,” Lena manages to say even as her eyelids droop.

Kara laces their fingers together and squeezes.

“You should rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Of course. I need you to be rested and lucid when I ask you for your number later.”

“Mhm,” Lena mumbles, barely awake. “I believe I asked you out first.”

That prompts a proper laugh, a sound that sends pleasant shivers down Lena’s spine.

“You did. You win.”

[sillypiratelife]

So what I'm taking from the spoilers is that Sanji's life belongs to Luffy but his death belongs to Zoro and?

... You're telling me it was Luffy who made Sanji want to live and pursue his dreams, the one who rescued him? Luffy, who wouldn't accept anyone else making Sanji's decisions for himself? The one Sanji has to betray, which basically means he has to betray himself? Like when Nami had to steal the ship and "betray" the strawhats? Luffy, the kid who couldn't care less about your past 'cause he trusts his instincts and his nakamas more than life itself? That Luffy? That Sanji?

And with Zoro... The intimacy it involves: to ask someone to take your life. If I lose myself, I want you to make sure I die. I want you to kill me. That won't be me. I need someone who values me and respects me enough to know it'd be an act of love and friendship. Zoro, the one strawhat who gets what an honorable death means, more than any of them. Zoro, who fights back to back with Sanji, who is always competing with him. The story has paralleled them to bonds that lasted hundreds of years and epic fights, to friends who would not disgrace each other by considering him less than what they truly are.

Life is a great thing, but death? That's a delicate matter. In a world where everyone wants to claim your death, it's heaven to have a friend take it if needed. If there's a strawhat that would do that for Sanji and don't ask why, it's Zoro.

Sanji would fight to stay himself for Luffy, but he knows that if the day comes when he loses the battle, he can find comfort in knowing that Zoro is there. The captain and his second in command. Sanji is lucky to have them both.

[yuurei20]

Translation from Twisted Wonderland the 2nd novel: Leona and the Housewarden Meeting

"‘Remember. What was it like two years ago? Last year? How did it feel to be used as a stepping stone to showcase the power of Lord Malleus Draconia? And you’re fine with letting him quit while he’s ahead? At this rate, we’ll be forever labeled as the herbivores that trembled and fled before Malleus.’

Leona’s words resonate with their hearts, with their minds. That unbearable humiliation resurfaces within the chests of all who hear him.

When Malleus had beat them all, he had faced the television cameras with a tilt of his head but no particular joy, as though to say, ‘Is that all?’

Riddle and the others had watched with bitterness, and a slight sense of fear.

No amount of talent could prevail before him, and he had not allowed even one person the slightest opportunity to show what they could do. How they had been on the ground, helpless before the storm of Malleus’ magical power had been etched into the memories of people worldwide.

It is impossible to count how many times they grit their teeth in response to hearing, yet again, how even students from the prestigious Night Raven College cannot compete against natural-born talent.

This cannot go on.

Of course they all want to prove themselves to the world. But what is there for them to even do against that storm of a man?

Looking at the perplexed faces around him, Leona raises his chin with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders, spreading his hands out before him. ‘He cannot be beaten through brute force. But what about up here?’ Leona’s voice strengthens. ‘The most important thing in Spelldrive is not strength. It’s smarts. Wring out that intellect of yours and think. Figure out how to bring Malleus down!’

‘Bring down Malleus-senpai?’ Riddle murmurs, and Leona responds with a nod.

‘What’s the point of giving up when there is still a chance? Of course it’s not going to be easy, but that’s exactly why the team that beats that monster will be praised, worldwide.’ Leona’s tone fills with pleasure. ‘Diasomnia has become complacent. Now is our chance. It is risky, but the rewards will be all the sweeter for it.’

His confident voice seems to dispel the doubts of all who hear it. Beating Malleus will be difficult. They all know it. There is no reason why winning against one of the top mages in the world should be easy.

But when Leona speaks, he stirs alive the feeling that they must at least try to beat Malleus. It is as though he is showing them a brighter future.

‘To suffer defeat at the hands of the very humans he has always looked down on—for Malleus, it would be the ultimate humiliation. How about it? Just picturing it in your mind is enough to raise your spirits. The sight of the high and mighty Malleus’ crestfallen face broadcast for all the world to see. And not by someone else—with our own hands!’

The housewardens exchange glances. Then, they nod.

'Even Leona makes a good point now and then. I believe the Headmage’s proposal is pure nonsense,’ agrees Pomefiore’s housewarden with a defiant smile. With such pride in his own beauty, he cannot possibly stand idly by after such a disgrace.

In contrast, Scarabia’s housewarden laughs aloud without a hint of malice. ‘I agree!,’ he declares with vigor, raising his hand into the air. ‘It wouldn’t be good to exclude Malleus. This kind of competition is for everyone to enjoy together, after all!’

‘Yes. A wonderful suggestion by Leona-san.’ Azul rests a hand upon his chest, as though deeply moved. But there is a shrewd glint within his eyes, behind his glasses. ‘A broadcast of Malleus's defeat would attract quite a considerable viewership. It would be widespread news, with immeasurable influence.’”

Scene continues here! ↓

[morsmortish]

hi beth 🔥 you mentioned dorcas and emma yesterday... i NEED to know more. the wlw world is still a unknown subject for me, so drop some lesbians 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

hello irene my love!!!! i love love love dorcas and emma individually, and i have SUCH a vision for them together. to me, they’re those two best friends who are almost toxicly dependent. they’re in the same year, same slytherin dorm, and quite a bit older than barty and reg and even maybe the marauders. to me, they are THE homoerotic wlw friendship for the ages.

i have said it before, but i see them having a rlly intense friendship. it’s also not super healthy- they’re both extremely competitive and equally proud and stubborn, and so there’s many instances of forced fake smiles, high levels of passive aggression, and even that over-the-top sickly sweetness. both of them find it hard to form many other connections, and so they find themselves both trapped in this extremely toxic friendship where they’re turning every single thing into a silent competition: emma is cruelly condescending when she is chosen as quidditch captain over dorcas; whilst dorcas not-so-subtly rubs it in when she gets more OWLs; they both simper at each other and shoot barbed but veiled insults every minute of every day. and yet, they also care more about the other than anything else. emma would kill anyone for slagging off dorcas, and dorcas would kill HERSELF before letting anyone try to get between them. they’re simultaneously each other’s worst enemy and each other’s best friend.

everyone else is a bit scared of them, and they really truly have no one else: this is both by choice and by everyone else being extremely intimidated by them. plus, their ‘friendship’ has always been laced with something else, something more, and in the absence of external company, it ramps up in intensity until they are making out to relieve the tensions between them. or they are competing for the best potions grade, with the winner getting a very specific ‘reward’. or they are finding ways to let out all the pent-up frustration they bear towards each other. they would never ever go as far as to describe themselves as dating, or in any sort of romantic relationship, and yet they have never quite been ‘just friends’. the ultimate situationship.

they’re like two ends of a tug-of-war rope, their ‘friendship’ frozen in the middle. dorcas is hot-headed and angry, whilst emma is calculated and coldly cruel. fire and ice. they’re both outcasts from pureblood society: dorcas as a muggle-born, and emma as a part of a disgraced lineage. they’re both poc women trying to stay afloat in the1970s. they also both always want to be the best at everything. they’re both ambitious and proud and selfish. in a way, they balance each other out, but also bring out the worst in each other. yet they both find solace in being able to be this ‘worst version’ of themselves- the pretence of fake smiles and forced kindness holds no value, and they both know the truth behind it all. it’s not the same as pretending to be a good person, as they are both entirely aware that neither of them are. they are just as bad for each other as they are good. they give each other the freedom to be terrible, and in a twisted way make each other better.

[wiccawrites]

KINNPORSCHE BODYSWAP AU ||

AU where kinnporsche are sons of two of Thailand's most affluent families!! The Theerapanyakuls are old rich but recently struggling -- they've got a good name but their business isn't as flourishing as it once was and it's steadily shrinking. On the other hand, the Kittisawats are new rich. They made it big in the software industry just a decade ago and now they're easily one of the richest families in the country.

Kinn and Porsche are both next in line to inherit their respective businesses but the way they were raised are night and day. Kinn was raised under Korn's iron hand and he's a middle child to top it all off. Meanwhile Porsche is smart but generally unserious -- he's outgoing and a free spirit!

They grew up as rivals. Porsche has gone out of his way to tease Kinn ever since they were little. Kinn is one of the few people that can get Porsche to take things seriously -- mostly because Porsche likes competing with Kinn and trying to see if he can ruin Kinn's day by winning.

Anyway Something Happens™ (idk what, let's say the gay stars align for now) and they end up switching bodies with no way of switching back. 

This is a problem because Kinn's engaged to be married in a week and there is no fucking way Porsche is sleeping with Kinn's blander-than-hotel-wallpaper fiance. He's adamant about it and he doesn't understand how Kinn could throw his whole life away for a business. 

Kinn honestly didn't like his fiance as well but Korn had been breathing down his neck about getting married for the sake of expanding the business for literal years now. And his fiance was from a really good background. If he breaks off the engagement, especially this late in the game, he'll disgrace the family name. He tells Porsche as much. 

That's when Porsche gets the idea. 

Since they're in each other's bodies, Porsche can just break the engagement off as Kinn. He thinks that if he delivers an impassioned speech standing up for himself (well, for Kinn technically), Korn will eventually have to understand.

After all, Porsche knew he had a way with words. What could go wrong? 

A lot, apparently. 

Porsche does as planned during Kinn's engagement party and Korn is livid. He's never seen the man turn that shade of red before. Korn is a breath away from publicly disowning Kinn until the real Kinn takes Porsche's hand and apologizes for not being brave enough to do the right thing. 

Suddenly, Porsche catches himself looking at Kinn. He's grateful they can see each other for who they truly are because it would be weird if Porsche looked at Kinn and instead saw himself right now.

Because Kinn is making up a story about how he and Porsche have been secretly dating on and off for years and throughout Kinn's engagement. And he's being loud about it. People are staring. In fact, Porsche is sure the only reason no one is doing anything is because the story is, well, it's juicy.

"Please believe me when I say it's all my fault for being a coward," Kinn says in a tone that has everyone hanging onto his every word. He turns to Porsche, and then he gets on one knee. "Kinn, I'm sorry for taking so long to realize that you're the person I've been waiting for all my life. You're the one who loves me, and I'm the one who loves you most. Will you marry me?"

Porsche wonders how the fuck Kinn came up with all this shit on the spot. 

Because it's genius.

The Kittisawats were currently the third richest family in Thailand. Korn would be a fool to force his son to go through with his existing engagement now. Not to mention, the press would eat the whole romance angle up. And being engaged would give Kinn and Porsche the chance to cover for each other while they figure out how the fuck they can go back to their own bodies.

God, Kinn was brilliant. Porsche could kiss him.

Porsche blinks. Actually, that wasn't a bad idea at all. Everyone was watching. The better they sold this lie, the more time they'd get to fix things.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Porsche kneels so that he and Kinn are eye-to-eye. A relieved smile breaks through his face as he loops his arms around Kinn's shoulders.

"Yes," Porsche whispers before he seals their lips together.

If his heart skips a few beats, that's only because he's never been into public displays of affection.

[burning-fcols]

Husk's fur had bristled the moment Charlie had answered the door to reveal a spider none of them had seen before waiting on the other side. They hadn't met him, but Bo had, albeit in another life, and though they looked far different than they had when still breathing, Husk knew just who had walked through those doors. "What the fuck-" A slam of paws on his bar-top, claws gripping tight into the wood with enough force to leave ruts. "Are you doin' here, you goddamn son 'f a bitch-" He had been cut off at that, Charlie, bless her bleeding heart, had no idea who she had just let into their hotel. It didn't take a genius to know why he was here, and the moment Anthony's Angel's name had left that spider's lips, Husk had been up and over the bar with the crashing of glasses and bottles being left in his wake" "You keep his fuckin' name out of your mouth, or I swear to fuck I'll rip your throat out with my goddamn teeth, you motherfuckin', cock suckin', good for nothin' prick-" //-whistles- - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @hells-fvry 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Stepping foot in this fucking hotel was the last thing Arackniss wanted to do. Decades of avoiding his brother ( once Arackniss was aware of what happened to Anthony ) , gone to waste thanks to his dad having a brilliant idea. For one so quick to declare someone ❛ dead to him ❜ , the fickle mafioso sure embraced forgiveness once the disgraced son became appropriately useful again. Whenever one of THOSE happens, Arackniss is usually the one who has to put in the dirty work to help it come to fruition... Flattering as it is frustrating, Arackniss getting no praise should he succeed yet feeling the looming weight of punishment should he fail.

Thankfully, the Princess was accommodating as expected... It took no effort to get through the hotel doors, and even less to inquire about ❛ Angel ❜ . For a split second of hope ( dangerous to indulge in, no matter how small a taste ) Arackniss dared to think he could speak to Anthony with hardly a fuss. If there was a struggle, he knows his younger brother would be smart enough to keep it away from prying eyes. It's doubtful Anthony wants their business known by everyone either.

Of course, this wouldn't be Hell if things could be so simple. No, scratch that— it wouldn't be Arackniss's fucking life. ❝ Oh for fuck's sake. ❞ He growls under his breath at the sudden disruption, fur bristles with a sharp intake through bared fangs. It may have been years— may have been an entire lifetime ago, but Dante Arackniss would recognize that voice anywhere.

Frankly, he's been waiting a long time to beat the guy it belongs to senseless. Any chance of subtlety was denied the moment Bo took notice of him, the bartender hurling himself over the counter without a shred of hesitation. Not that Arackniss is much better, meeting the challenge head-on with a visceral hunger that's been gnawing at his stomach since he first saw his brother aim a lovesick look the other man's way. As much as Anthony tried to hide it— before even Bo knew —Dante had spent too long studying every shadow and checking every corner to miss something so obvious in his own kin. Not that he ever told.

Not that it ever mattered. Their dad was always hard on Anthony regardless, even if he never discovered the full depths of his son's secrets. He suspected, as they all did. But Bo never found himself on the wrong end of a gun, so EVERY dot clearly hadn't been connected... Dante should have done it himself.

Maybe then Tony would have lived.

❝ Figlio di puttana! ❞ Clawing at his attacker, he curses his inability to get a grip on his gun. Too busy trying to keep from being ripped to shreds, all while digging into Bo's flesh deeply as he can. He might be a competent fighter despite his size ( always has been ) but Bo is hardly a push-over either, and there's something to be said for the added strength protective rage can give. Spitting in the others eye, the small spider retorts in Italian, ❝ Oh, we usin' ❛ cock-suckin' ❜ as an insult, huh? That's REAL rich comin' from th' guy who had my brotha' chokin' on his! ❞

❝ What th' Hell are you even doin' here? Haven' you ruined his life enough? Tony fuckin' DIED 'cause'a you! You killed my fuckin' baby brotha' you selfish piece'a shit! You no-good, flea-ridden, cowardly FUCK— ❞ 「 ☆ 」

[kittynomsdeplume]

OC Tag Game

Oooh, thanks for the tag @cleverblackcat. I'm not sure what's gonna shake out here, as I don't really plan my OC's out very well. They sort of slowly emerge as their story grows, so all of them are very much works in progress still. A few of them have started to show distinct personalities though. I'm going to focus mostly on Dragon Age OC's, since they are the ones I'm writing pretty exclusively these days.

Tagging: @knuttydraws | @raflesia65 | @inquisitoracorn | @retrowondergirl | @thedastrash | @charlatron | @charmcity-jess | @amarmeme | @inky-does-art | @spooky-daggers

Favorite OC: This is basically akin to asking me who my favourite LI is and I really don't know how to choose! I like them all for different reasons. I think I do have a soft spot of Evelyn Trevelyan though, or a strong desire to keep her safe. Out of all my OC's, she's the only one that was not even remotely prepared to be a hero/leader/figurehead. Yes she was born into a noble family, but she was never going to be the head of it. She was shipped off in disgrace to the Circle at the age of 13 -- completely ruining her parents carefully orchestrated plans to marry her off for their own benefit. All my other OC's have spent a good majority of their lives already having to lead/protect/be responsible for others, but poor Evelyn's just so out of her depth. They're all pretty badass too - they can easily go toe to toe with an archdemon, or the arishok, or any adversary you throw at them. Evelyn would just get squished.

Newest OC: Hmm, I think that's probably Maxwell Trevelyan, who began really as just a generic name drop of an Inquisitor for Under Her Mask. He's grown though and I'm honestly a bit in love with the shithead 😆 Because he's brash and aggravating, but he's staunchly loyal to his friends and Blackwall's revelation broke his heart. I don't know if he will emotionally survive Solas' betrayal, not that I plan to write it, but you never know. I do enjoy writing him being cheeky with Cassandra. He might just continue to pop up in the further adventures of Solona and Cullen, so we'll see.

Oldest OC: Oh haha, hmmm that would be going back many, many years now. I think the first story I wrote that was a genuine foray into fan-fiction, was about Garthik the Meek. He was an orc that lived peacefully in his little hovel, deep in the forests of Yew, in the land of Britannia. He spent his days tending to his garden and frolicking with the forest animals that were his dear friends. Unfortunately however, one day he was set upon by a band of glory seeking adventurers, and his humble little life was tragically cut short 😞

Meanest OC: Oh, Enastarin without a doubt. He was tolerable to his companions when he was merely a spirit of Vanity, unable to help his shallow nature. Something dark emerged in him however when he left the Fade -- a jealous, competitive obsession with Solas. Despite his complete lack of empathy for others, Rin sees the true nature of everyone -- can reflect it with uncanny accuracy, which is why he is the most talented shape-shifter in Elvhenan. So he sees all the faults, doubts and weaknesses that Solas hides from others. He hates that everyone always looked to Solas over him. That Solas was always considered more competent, more powerful and wiser than him, and that Mythal openly favoured Solas above all others. It's a resentment that has festered in him, like a sour wound, for millennia. Naturally, in his immense pride, Solas doesn't take Rin seriously as a threat, and that's a blind spot Rin is more than happy to exploit.

Softest OC: Again, all my OC's have been pretty hardened by their life experience. They're all soft in their own ways, in the right circumstances, with the right people. Like, Solona is pathetically soft for Cullen, but don't ask her about Alistair 😬 Though, even that is complicated.

Sulahnean essentially cannot say no to Dorian. She tries to be firm, but if he gives her puppy eyes, she's done for. Which is not the sort of friendship she ever imagined she could have with a Tevinter nobleman of all things.

I don't know that Hawke is soft so much as brittle inside, though she's very good at putting up a tough exterior and ignoring her own feelings. Evelyn probably wins the soft category again, although Blackwall certainly caused her to harden her heart a little bit, but she's probably still the most forgiving.

Most Aloof/Standoffish OC: Probably Sulahnean Lavellan. Though its actually against her natural character and mostly due to circumstances. She was quite warm and gregarious amongst her Clan, but being surrounded by so many strange and hostile humans in Haven, and under their intense scrutiny, had her feeling very out of place and she drew inside herself as a defence mechanism. Then she was held up as this religious icon, an Andrastrian icon, and she was terrified to even be herself. Because how long was it going to be before she slipped up and acted too Dalish, or too outspoken for mage freedom, and got herself burned at the stake as a heretic? Slowly though, she began to forge bonds with others in the Inquisition, but after everything that happened with Cole and Solas, it damaged her ability to trust people at all. She's trying to work through it, to not close herself off entirely from others, but it's a struggle. Logically, she knows that most people have good intentions, but when the pain of betrayal is still so fresh, it's hard to not react instinctively with fear and doubt.

Dumbest (Affectionate) OC: Ok, well probably Marian Hawke. Not that she's truly stupid obviously, but she tends to act without thinking. And sure, she thrives in the havoc that ensues, and in some ways being so erratic puts her enemies on the backfoot, giving her the advantage then in being decisive, adaptable and quick-witted. So maybe she's actually a chaotic genius in the end! To the outside observer though, it just looks like sheer pandemonium, and without a doubt, she's shaved about ten years off the life of all her friends from the stress of being in her orbit. Though at least they've all learned to expect the unexpected and the more insane the plan seems, the more likely it is to actually turn out ok. Realistically though, Hawke just doesn't quit. Ever. Overcoming all obstacles through sheer stubbornness.

Smartest OC: Probably Sileahilan. Overall, she's very well rounded, possessing not just book smarts, but good social and emotional intelligence. She knows herself very well too, and has the good sense to know when she's wrong, or needs help. She also has a seemingly rare quality among other ancient elves, in that she learns from her mistakes 😂

OC I’d Be Friends With: Probably not Hawke and Max. I think they would exhaust me in a matter of minutes. And definitely not Enastarin, for very obvious reasons. But I think I could chill just fine with most of the others.

[fairytail-whathesays]

Some reasons to ship Sting with Laxus

Sting idolised Natsu because he advertised he was a dragon slayer looking for his dragon parent. I believe Gajeel was less known partly because he wasn’t a guild wizard for a while and even then he didn’t talk about his parent and blended in to the theme of the element 4, his magic of turning his body into iron is similar enough to Julia’s water body for instance. That being said he was openly an iron dragon slayer, unlike Laxus who was hiding the fact that he was one from pretty much everyone. Even years after the reveal he’s hiding his dragon traits from everyone but the Thunder Legion. This is extra interesting when you consider he likely learned to utilise his powers by mimicking Natsu (I’m sure there are other info sources for someone with Laxus’s connections but Dragon Slaying was a lost magic that the council was dubious about due to dragons being thought extinct). After it’s revealed he is excommunicated and he isn’t let back in until Tenrou, which doesn’t really work for Sting learning about him as Laxus vanished for 7 years.

But when he does come back? This is a dragon slayer who even Natsu idolises and can’t beat alone (who couldn’t really do it even with Gajeel’a help, Gajeel acknowledges how Dangerous he is), someone who beat an entire guild by himself (imagine Sting’s shock seeing an S-Class wizard losing pathetically and then the truth being revealed), who took Rufus’s attack head on, who beat Orga (Sabertooth’s strongest who should have beat him by basis of god beats dragon) and Jura (a wizard Saint). No way he wouldn’t be impressed. And then there is him doing a pretty good job fighting dragons, what Sting considers a mark of a real dragon slayer.

Laxus being a stealth dragon slayer means he canonically is not only physically strong and a great fighter but can utilise so many other types of magic to such high degrees. He built those lightning lacrima that surrounded the parade, made with lightning magic and organic link magic. He is great at thought projections, he taught himself Fairy Law and he learned rune magic/enchantments from Freed (possibly learned magic from the rest of the Thunder Legion too). He is unique among slayers in that he is canonically confirmed to be high level in the magic of his element, Lightning Magic is different from Lightning Dragon Slayer magic to the point of being S-Class with no one the wiser to his trump card. Sting has a lacrima implant (of unknown origins) and when you consider his views on 3rd generation superiority it would be interesting to see how he relates to 2nd gen as we have seen his reaction to 1st gen slayers. Theoretically he could be inspired to learn more magic now this possibility has presented itself. They have similar views on their own guilds that lead to their antagonism. Sting considers Sabertooth to be the strongest guild and is planning on proving that to the ones he used to idolise and now intends to surpass because they didn’t live up to his expectations via absolutely destroying them with Sabertooth’s strongest members in clearly not very safe or well regulated public tournament for the people in question to suffer through to his enjoyment. His opinion on Yukino being that if she was only going to lose after literally wagering her life and showing all her cards (using her 2 gold keys and one black key) then she disgraced their guild and should leave to make way for Sabertooth’s 5 strongest to compete together. The twin dragons and their exceeds are his unit like how Thunder Legion is to Laxus but he shows respect for the other strongest like how Laxus views only those in S-Class as close to his equals. Obviously Jiemma enabled this behaviour while Makarov (despite his many flaws) didn’t and was in fact against it, so while Laxus going against his master is a sign he is far gone to attack his family for Sting it’s the first step in not going with the flow of this hostile work environment because it works for him. In Sting his arc is characterised by letting fairy tail have the win because he is in awe of their will to beat him despite already being beaten, how clearly they want this win to re-establish their reputation and gratitude for saving Lector. He decides to take responsibility for his actions (mainly inaction) towards Yukino by apologising and steps up to BE Sabertooth’s better guild master. In Laxus this is him realising through his magic that he doesn’t truly want everyone dead and facing the consequences of his actions, he admits he was wrong and accepts excommunication gracefully after finally listening to his own feeling and the ones of those he cares about (even those he is stronger than and thinks are wrong) realising what his selfishness cost him and resolving to work on himself alone. The similarities are obvious and their methods of atonement being the opposite of each other is interesting, especially when you think that Sting has likely been with Sabertooth since he was young and Laxus has already finished his redemption arc when Ating is starting his.

Shitty parents. We don’t know anything about Laxus’s mother or Sting’s human parents but the parallel is interesting for shitty dads. Weisslogia takes in an orphan child of a different species, raises them among other dragon-human families to use his magic, said magic is harmful to the child in the long-run without an antidote as it changes the human more dragon like in maladaptive ways, convinces child to mercy kill them after they were attacked, possesses them in order to be their antidote and recuperate means to fight attacker, sends child into the future to fight their attacker mostly unprepared and does so after manipulating the child’s memories so they don’t remember anyone who goes with them to the future. We don’t actually know the details about what Ivan did but from what we do know: Laxus is born too sickly to utilise the family’s large magic potential, inserting a dragon lacrima (an experimental procedure) should make Laxus not sickly and let him utilise this potential (Yuri, Makarov’s dad/Ivan grandfather was a Fairy Tail founder and used high level lightning magic), he did this procedure in secret by himself (he was not a doctor) without Laxus’s informed consent and made him keep his new powers (which made him more dragon like in a time dragons didn’t really exist and caused a miraculous recovery) a secret, he committed crimes that got him excommunicated from the guild by Laxus’s grandfather and guild master and Laxus did not know what his dad had done to deserve this (it is implied to not be experimenting on his son), Ivan creates Raven Tail to destroy Fairy Tail essentially setting the two men who raised Laxus up as enemies with him needing to side with Fairy Tail, Ivan wants Gajeel to help him get Laxus’s implant in order to sell it well aware that removing the implant will kill Laxus and the he manipulates his son with public humiliation and a violent ambush at an important tournament to convince him to betray his guild and family for his pettiness.

Miscellaneous: they both wear fur a lot so they could share, Sting’s relationship with Rogue and his own connection to holiness/divinity means he is somewhat familiar with and accepting of the dark magic that most of the thunder legion utilises and they are familiar with dragon-slayers and exceeds, Laxus is a future guild master and Sting has a similar goofy yet serious energy to the Thunder Legion members at times post-redemption.

Wait I wanna hear reasons to ship Laxus and Sting tho.

That is a lot and I am not confident that I Get It but I will support you nonetheless!

[summeroffice]

И Грянул Грэм

12:16 The Forum of Free Russia that was held in Tallinn was visited by representatives of Ukraine among others, in particular Oleksiy Arestovych, it was quite a resonant story. There are people from Ukraine who believe that Arestovych still needs to be imprisoned after this speech. Did you follow this event and does it make sense for Ukrainian representatives to participate in such events where the oppositional Russian public gathers?

First, it seems to me that the oppositional Russian public should still decide for themselves how they feel about the war. Because we see, again, controversial statements, that is, we don't see, for example, a comprehensive, clear understanding of the type of war, well, an assassment of the war from the point of view, for example, what Russia did in the occupied territories in the Kyiv region, in the Kharkov region, and so on.

That is, I have not heard such a consolidated tough position that this is condemned as much as possible and then the transition of the fact that we must repent for this, and accordingly, take on certain obligations now, as an opposition, accept obligations regarding what will Russia after the war be like, and what attitude they have towards their obligations, in this case reparations.

They, in my mind, the Russian opposition, that's second, it thinks that yes, you are fighting there, you're doing something there, defeat Putin and then we want to go in like this, let's say, along the red carpet and take power. You solve for us the problem of power, the permanence of power in Russia, solve for us the problem of the lack of competition policy, and moreover, ensure that we have the opportunity to take away this power. Well, it looks strange.

Third component, in my opinion, any private person from Ukraine can be present anywhere if he considers it necessary. Officials do not attend such events and accordingly, comment on the points of view of private individuals [he smiles], well it would be strange on my part. I mean the statements that you say are resonant.

Fourth component, I don't yet see a logistical plan of the Russian opposition. I see these, you know, internal discussions, let's unite and take part in the 2024 elections and let's say that Putin is bad. You know, it's a mystery to me how childish you can be sometimes. Well, it's obvious in my opinion that your country attacked another country. It's not that Putin is bad or good, he just gave the order to kill on a large scale the citizens of another country.

And accordingly, a large degree of population today is subject to, well, I mean the Russian population, they support this practice, the practice of this type of genocide war, they are absolutely devoid of the desire to have a competitive policy. Well, that is, I mean the population of Russia is not really running there to give us real elections where parties will compete with each other and so on.

That is, this is a classic authoritarian state with a despotic component where the electoral process does not exist as such. That is, Russia will be able to change its internal structure through two mechanisms. The first is the collapse of the front which will again launch revolutionary processes inside Russia. And on the basis of this, the political system can be changed. To discuss in all seriousness that in March 2024 we will be a competition for Putin because everyone will understand how disgraceful he is, and we are such good white fluffy, I honestly can't even imagine.

Can you imagine this? That is, you have an authoritarian classic with a pronounced power component, a country that is now actively killing people in another country and imprisoning for 25 years those who doubt the right of Russia to kill other people, then suddenly the population that supports this, they like to sit on their sofas and talk about let's destroy Kyiv, Odesa or let's do a nuclear strike over Siberia, and so on. In all seriousness these people suddenly decide: let's vote for someone else, an alternative.

You know what shocks me the most here, what shocks me is that for a long time, how long Putin has been building his career, a lot of different representatives and opposition and let's say, people who are opposition creators. Well, those who write, have a lot of views on YouTube and so on and so forth, they influenced the public mood in Russia for decades and this ultimately led to their complete, let's say complete absence today in Russia itself as influential personalities, and at the same time the conservation of the Putin regime. Well, for decades people have been writing that Putin is wrong, Putin steals, under Putin there's corruption, [Sergei] Roldugin, see the cooperative "Ozero" and so on.

But at the same time Putin simultaneously attacks Ukraine and at the same time seizes a part of Georgia, at the same time provokes a number of countries of the post-Soviet space, at the same time insults the Baltic countries, at the same time very harshly attacks Europe, insults again at the level of officials, says that we will destroy you there, kill you and so on and so forth.

I just want to hear three theses, for example, of the Russian opposition, the question is not for you of course. How can they convice people living in an absolutely poverty situation in the city of Saratov or in the city of Chita that they need to vote not for Putin who promises them a Great Russia, but to vote for people who want to sprinkle ashes on their heads and at the same time they will stay to live in poverty.

Well, because look, Putin proposes what concept? You're in poverty? We took everything from you, you have no rights, but you are members of Great Russia which can come and kill anyone anywhere in the world. And what can the opposition offer? You will still remain in poverty, only everyone will not respect you because you will have to go through repentance to admit guilt in the mass genocide of the peoples of other countries. And these people, right, these people will have to voluntarily say, yes, we want it. We want you.

[headshaker]

BECOMING CHIEF CULTIVATOR.

This post will be concerned with what NHS’ story likely looks like post-canon. There’s a lot to cover with post-canon NHS, so I’m gonna try to focus on making this post an overview and really zero in on his campaign to become Chief Cultivator. Details can be fleshed out in smaller, subsequent posts. For the sake of clarity, I’ll split this into two parts: why people would elect him and why he would seek the position.

WHY WOULD NHS BE ELECTED?

I’m starting with this section because it’s the least complicated. As we all know, NHS is the weakest cultivator of his generation, formed a golden core long after his peers, and has a reputation for being a weak-willed good-for-nothing. The Qi.ngh.e Nie have also declined massively under his leadership (which was at least partially strategic, but no one knows that) and his clan is the weakest of the great four circa canon. So why in the world would anyone elect such a pathetic, weak, little man from a half-disgraced clan to lead the entire cultivational world? Bearing in mind as well that cultivators are the ones who hold all the power in this setting.

The answer is: because he’s such a pathetic, weak, little man. (Or, seems to be. We know that’s not quite true.) Just look at recent history. The Su.nsh.ot Ca.mpa.ign and its inciting incidents (burning of the Clo.ud Rec.es.ses, Wen indoctrination, Wen sect claiming all night-hunting grounds, massacre at Lo.tus Pi.er) occurred less than 20 years ago. When the Qi.sh.an Wen fell, the La.nli.ng Jin took their place. They originated the role of Chief Cultivator, even if they had to obliterate the Ti.ngs.han He (and NMJ) to get it done. Pointing out all the stains on the Jin sect’s reputation would take too long. What’s important to bear in mind is that people accused them of wanting to replace the Wen sect after their fall, and JGS + JGY are now decried by many as tyrants.

No one wants a competent Chief Cultivator; no one wants a powerful Chief Cultivator. No one wants a repeat of what happened with the Qi.sh.an Wen and La.nli.ng Jin. Although they could abolish the role of Chief Cultivator (it hasn’t existed for a full generation anyway), everyone knows that wouldn’t solve the problem. One sect would still emerge as the dominant power, and it would likely be, as it has always been, one of the great four. The best option then — and NHS would work from the shadows to ensure everyone reached this conclusion — it to keep the role of Chief Cultivator but elect someone who doesn’t have the power to be a tyrant. Remember that Chief Cultivator is a nominal position. There is a degree of respect that comes with the title, but they don’t have any concrete, official powers. The one who holds it can very easily be made into a figurehead. It’s a rather clumsy way of filling a power vacuum while discouraging tyranny, almost like using duct tape to patch water pipes, but it’s not wholly ineffective.

This is absolutely something NHS will play up. He will drop just enough of his incompetence to achieve his goals but always leave weaknesses. Controlled, fabricated, carefully crafted to make them believe he is no threat, no tyrant. To make them think they’re in control all while he pulls their strings. To make them strike at a soft target, not realizing until it’s too late that they stand in the monster’s mouth. He has maintained a careful balancing act all this time of being just powerful enough to remain in the top four while seeming just weak enough not to become a target. This is only the next level of the same game.

WHY WOULD NHS WANT TO BE ELECTED?

I often see people say they can’t imagine NHS as Chief Cultivator because he’s not ambitious. He never wanted to be sect leader, so why would he want to be Chief Cultivator? While this line of thinking isn’t without merit, it does fail to consider a few complexities. I would not say he is ambitious in a traditional sense but the ambition is there. The distinction is that, rather than a desire for power or praise, it is rooted in vengeance and spite.

As I’ve alluded to in the past, JGY is not the only object of NHS’ ire. Far from it. Although our perspective is limited due to the book following WWX so closely, we can reasonably assume many sects took advantage of NMJ’s death and the performance NHS put on in the following years. Many also spoke ill of NMJ and the Nie sect in the aftermath of his violent, public death, and we know NHS is not treated with respect. He plays into the perception people have of him, but it’s important to remember he is only reflecting what people already think of him. He hides it well, but he does care when he’s degraded, and he resents it.

Additionally, it’s the last piece of his vengeance against JGY and the La.nli.ng Jin. Again, they are the ones who originated the position, and this is part of why NMJ + the Qi.ngh.e Nie were targeted. Stealing this position from them, and more specifically stealing it from JL (JGY’s nephew and heir), is the icing on the cake. He is overthrowing JGY's legacy in its entirety.

Truly, NHS’ vengeance is Sisyphean. There will always be someone fighting him and his for power. There will always be someone who allows their arrogance to dictate their actions. There will always be a new name to add to the list. In time, it will grow so long not even his descendants can complete it.

But, even this is only one facet of his motivation. The other facet is NMJ. His brother is at the heart of his whole life really, for good or ill. He cannot be said to honor NMJ’s legacy considering the person he has become, but there is a need in him to restore and protect what his brother built. Of course, there’s a larger loyalty to the legacy of his clan and sect; he is very filial at heart. But, so much comes back to his brother, as it always does. His brother who made the Qi.ng.he Nie so prosperous, so powerful, that they could not only be a driving force behind the Su.nsh.ot Ca.mpa.ign but stand up to the La.nli.ng Jin in the following years. His brother who was so influential, so admired, he had to be killed and through deceitful means. NHS will prove that all the time and effort NMJ put into raising him was not totally wasted. NHS will prove that he can not only rebuild their prosperity but preserve it. He will reclaim all that other sects have obtained at their expense. He will repay every injury they have suffered. He will protect them no matter the cost.

He knows his methods would never meet with his brother’s approval, but he has come to believe that was never something he could obtain. What he can obtain is a bright, stable future for their people. He may be an immoral sect leader but never incompetent.

[vahnithedreamer]

I'd like to point out that if all the things you mentioned above are true it's still the government's fault, whereas for Christianity and Islam it's written into their scriptures that anyone that doesn't agree with them is a "non-believer" who has a guaranteed seat in hell. It's NOT the same thing.

And the reblog is a joke. Maybe the brahminical sect didn't like say, the charvaka sect. Maybe they hated each other and the brahminical sect was the one on top. You know who else hated and fought each other? Shaivites and Vaishnavites. Go ahead,claim that shaivism was "appropriated" because vaishnavites are the big bad brahminical oppressors.

Hindu. The word literally means those on the other side of the Sindhu river. It's not even a name we gave ourselves!! It comes from the Arabs being unable to pronounce Sindhu. Who's being asked to stop animist practices under Hinduism? Now I'm from the South,and I have no clue what the BJP is doing there but here, we worship certain trees literally in the temple!! Sanatan dharma is literally a polytheistic belief with major animist roots and practices!! IF what you're saying is true, you're still blaming the world's oldest religion for something that a government has done in its last 9 years of ruling as if the OLDEST religion already carried all these hateful elements.

It's disgraceful that you were asked a question on how Hinduism deals with "infidels" and you answered with your perception of the ruling party's treatment of people who are "against" them. One wonderful characteristic of Christians and Muslims is that they take pride in their religion and culture, even while acknowledging it's flaws!!

And Mughals were the worst invasion in india, not even the British could compete. They're not seen as invaders because everyone has to be by default Hindu. They're seen as invaders because THEY WERE INVADERS. Just because a few of them were ok, like say Akbar, it doesn't mean everything was fine and dandy.

They came. They conquered. They took our resources and funnelled them back to their homelands. India went from 33 percent GDP of the entire world to 6 percent under Mughal rule. THAT IS WHAT EMPIRES DO. It was the same with the Mughals and the British.

The library of nalanda burned for 3 months!!We had the first worldwide university!! Look at bihar today. I'm not even gonna start on the caste argument because that will suck me into an unnecessary internet fight with someone I don't even know.

Stop looking at everything with your woke western views!!

im asking this out of pure ignorance but I've always wondered how does hinduism handle people who are not hindu? i know Christianity is essentially 'be the right kind of christian or go to hell' (so much as to beleive that Jewish people are literally devils, for example) but i was wondering how hinduism deals w people who are in proximity but not of the same religion. also if a dalit or lower caste person converts from hinduism to another religion, how does that affect thier life and how they're treated? appreciate your answer if u feel like explaining ^__^

it depends, in some parts of the country the non hindu has the same status as the lower caste dalit by default – so exclusion but in most places its a detente where religious and caste endogamy is strictly maintained. housing and employment discrimination is v common. its actually much harder to marry under the special mariage act and violence against interfaith and intercaste couples by their own families is common. in 2023, the muslim is the designated enemy of the state. the christian was fooled by the british and/or money to give up their culture or is literally a foreign agent. if you're looking for a textual answer, the equivalent of the "infidel," there isn’t really one because the streamlining of the canonical religious texts and construction of the hindu is recent. hinduism has aimed to appropriate instead of convert.

in modern india, legally anyone who is not a christian or a muslim is treated as a hindu. you are hindu by default in india to the state, governed by hindu codes for marriage and inheritance. for indigenous tribals it is a matter of coercing their children to feel shame at the (state sponsored but outsourced to private religious groups, love privatisation!!!) residential schools about their animist practices and making them worship the proper gods. for sikhs, jains and buddhists their is marginally more toleration. but they are basically seen as wayward hindu sects. this does change when they're in conflict with the majority in a way that resists "national cohesion" – see sikh pogroms in 1984 and the recent moves against sikhism due to the invocation of khalistan in the farmers protests. when dalits convert to buddhism many right wingers will invoke the spectre of predatory conversions.

since you are supposed to be hindu by default, christians and muslims are then seen as invasive outsiders and conversions are regulated very strictly by many states. it is historically true that christian missionaries brought christianity as part of a broader civilising mission, but imo it says something really depressing about hinduism that its epithets for christians is 'ricebag converts' bc people apparently converted for a bag of rice. islam's foothold in the continent is older, accompanying immigration from the west as well as the sultanate and the mughals. returning these christians and muslims to the fold, or "ghar wapsi" is a major project of the hindutva right. note that india is home to one of the world's largest populations of muslims (~200mil).

lower caste dalits have long converted to christianity and islam but caste violence follows them there anyway. caste may have textual origins in religion and focus on ritual purity but it is a socioeconomic form of subjugation. this means that while still subject to caste violence, dalit christians and muslims will be denied redressal through state protections like legislations against anti caste violence or reservations because those are restricted to hindu dalits.

[freifraufischer]

So I’m going through 1997 for my cataloging project and I realized fairly quickly that the 1997 playlist was all sorts of in the wrong order.  

I went to look up dates for things

As an aside this is the first time I saw down to watch the 4 hours of coverage we have of the 1997 East Asian Games where China said the most amazing team that included Mo Huilan, Liu Xuan, Kui Yuanyuan, Meng Fei, Bi Wenjing, Ji Liya... which because it’s 1990s beautiful Chinese gymnasts and it was May meant there were a ton of falling.  But there was a ton of falling from just about everyone else too...

But the thing that is making me wrote this post is a bit of a frustration to me.

The 1997 University Games was essentially during Worlds Podium training.  That means there were very few people at the Universiade who would otherwise go to worlds (except for Risa Sugawara because apparently she’s super woman).  But compounded with that US Nationals were only 2 weeks before Worlds because... pacing I don’t know her.

I’m still deeply unclear why they had people competing as seniors who couldn’t compete internationally (not just Atler).  The age change had been announced several years before.  Why aren’t they treating juniors like juniors?  But also I want to talk about the way people talked about Moceanu.  She’d been touring and her gym situation was unstable (even if you don’t know anything about what is going on with her family).  She doesn’t have a good worlds... she’s in the middle of a growth spurt, she’s there to give experience and leadership.  But she makes the AA and comes in a respectable 14th.  That 14th is treated like a disgraceful disaster (even though Shannon Miller had finished 12th at 1995 Worlds which was just as respectable then given her circumstances of injury).  

Immediately the narrative around Moceanu is that she’s a faded star (which isn’t helped by the Rybackis telling Tim Daggett about how they’re not going to let pressure get to Atler like it did for Moceanu implying that her performance in Atlanta was because of pressure and not you know... a broken leg).  Kristen Maloney is hailed as the rising star as the top finisher at Worlds in 1997.  Nothing is said negatively about her.  She finished in 13th at 1997 worlds.  Less than a .1 head of Moceanu.

[cleverthylacine]

IDW Soundwave.

Soundwave came into the world as an uncontrolled receptive telepath on Functionist Golden Age Cybertron. 

His range even then was ridiculous. Everyone and everything was in his head. Then, because he was not competent to perform an assigned function, he ended up in the Dead End of Rodion on Functionist Golden Age Cybertron.

Soundwave experienced murder, assault (possibly including sexual assault), oppression, and other forms of violence from both sides, and it started almost as soon as he came online. 

Not all of the trauma Soundwave has experienced was actually his own, but he lived through it anyway, and as a newbuild fresh from the forge or the ground or whatever, no less.

No wonder he was a revolutionary.

Then he spent the next 4 million years working with Megatron and watching Megatron disintegrate and become corrupt.

How did this guy even survive.

Another good candidate is IDW Glit.

Glit came from Kiss Players originally, which is bad enough, but in KP he was a Decepticon medic who looked exactly like Ravage, only white and blue and red instead of black and silver and red.  Glit was a very compassionate person and one of the best field trauma surgeons in the history of ever.

He pissed Megatron off a lot by healing everyone regardless of faction. Anyhow, late in life, disgraced, discredited and a drunk, he got drafted into the Kiss Players project as a member of Rosanna's friendship and peace-promoting interspecies band because he was discovered to have an excellent voice through his obsession with getting drunk and singing karaoke.

IDW made it all worse and had Megatron send him to work as the medical officer at Grindcore, the most infamous death camp prison planet in Decepticon history, under the command of the guy who grew up to be Tarn, the leader of the DJD.

You can almost hear Megatron saying “If you like taking care of Autobots and aliens so much, I know where you can do it to your heart’s content.”

It sure explains the drinking problem, anyways.

For the anon who might be doing the most Traumatized Transformer character, I personally think it would be either Prowl, Sunstreaker or Fortress Maximus tbh

They’ve been through a lot

Would be cool to see

Hmmmmm

To be honest, I think there are too few IDW Prowl fans to carry their boy to the top, even if it is a “most traumatized character” thing.

But objectively, I agree that he’s gone through enough to belong close to the top.

I don’t know enough about Sunstreaker to say for sure. However, I can definitely see Fort Max being close to the top as well.

[dragoneyes618]

Requested by @hannahhook7744

Anita often wondered about the de Vils.

Cruella was gone, away on the Isle, Anita’s puppies safe from her forever.

But Cruella’s brother Cecil had also gone, saying that he could not let his sister go to the Isle alone. He’d given Anita a look of such betrayal that it still haunted her.

Cruella had been a villain, yes. But did stealing dogs really warrant life imprisonment? Weren’t there laws about prison terms for different crimes or something? And to send Cruella to the Isle when she was so...unhinged...

But Cruella and Cecil weren’t the de Vils that Anita wondered about.

News came from the Isle, sporadically. Mostly through people who had relatives there. It was through this quasi-legal grapevine that Anita heard that Cecil de Vil had married, and that a son had been born to him and his wife a year later.

Two years after that, she heard that Cruella had given birth to a son.

 There was no provision for getting children born on the Isle off the Isle.

Should there have been? Would villains make good parents?

Cruella might have, once. When they were younger, before she began to fixate on anything black and white or made of fur, before she began to torment animals for fun. When she had laughed like a child and competed with Anita to see who could run down the hallway of the school the fastest before a teacher spotted them and stayed up until three in the morning sketching design after design as they flowed into her head almost faster than her hand could move. Back when everyone, even herself, had referred to her as “Ella.”

But now? Now, after she had schemed and stolen her way to get her precious furs, after she had planned to kill one hundred and one puppies for their fur, after she had built up her fashion empire by destroying other people’s businesses, after she had physically assaulted, with her cane, the inspectors who came to tour the factory, after she had sliced open the cheek of her own lawyer with her fingernails, after she had strode onto the ship bound for the Isle holding her head high with dignity-she would not suffer the disgrace of being dragged kicking and screaming onto it, not her-and shrieked at Anita from the prow where she stood, her unnatural black-and-white hair flying in the wind, resplendent in ebony and ivory and scarlet, like some avenging demon-”You betrayed me! How dare you! You betrayed me, Cruella de Vil! You will regret crossing the de Vil name! This I vow-you will pay!”

The expression of pure fury and hatred on Cruella’s face haunted Anita as well.

Cruella was sent to the Isle, and long-suffering Cecil accompanied her, and their mother and father and brother were dead, and there were no more de Vils in Auradon.

There had been. Cruella had had a niece named Ivy and a nephew named Hunter. They had been de Vils, and like all the family, were generally involved in some kind of suspicious scheme. Cruella had roped both of them into assisting her in her various plots.

But they had seen through it, and didn’t want to. They had rescued as many puppies as they could from the basement, and dumped them all into the back of the van, which the barely teenage Hunter drove, having to stand because his feet couldn’t reach the gas pedal. Cruella had followed them in her red roadster, screeching after them at breakneck speed-at literal breakneck speed, it turned out, because Hunter had been forced to accelerate the van so that it, not built remotely for speed, was going barely faster than his aunt’s car; going around a sharp curve, it had overturned, killing him and Ivy instantly.

They’d found Cruella sorting through the puppies, making sure they were all right, completely ignoring the bodies of her niece and nephew not ten feet away.

Could a woman like that be a competent parent?

Didn’t Anita owe it to her former friend, to the woman she had once been, to check on the wellbeing of her son and even her nephew? Ella would have cared, even if Cruella did not.

All the letters she and Roger sent to Cruella and Cecil were returned unopened, stamped RETURN TO SENDER, as though the address had not been found. 

If there was a phone on the Isle, Anita didn’t know of its existence.

And of course, visits were out of the question.

“If nothing else,” Roger told her, when they had exhausted all options of contact, “Cecil will take care of her son. He’s a good man, you told me yourself.”

Anita nodded, weary. Cecil de Vil was a good man undyingly loyal to his family, and, unusually for a de Vil-for anyone-self-sacrificing to the extreme. He had always done what he thought was best for his little sister, to the point where he had voluntarily consigned himself to life imprisonment rather than let her (and him) be alone. He was the only person who had any sort of influence over Cruella.

Life moved on.

A decade and a half later, several children were brought off of the Isle of the Lost as part of a rehabilitation program spearheaded by the new young king. The news spread like wildfire around Auradon.

One of them was Cruella’s son. Carlos, his name was.

“We should meet him,” Anita told Roger. “We should talk to him.”

“He may not want to meet us,” Roger, ever-pragmatical, reminded her. “He will be busy with school. With adjusting to a new place. With trying to prove that he can fit in here. And...his mother may have turned him against us.”

Given the expression on Cruella’s face the last time Anita had seen her, there was no “may have” about it.

So they wouldn’t meet him right then. In a few months, perhaps, once he’d gotten settled, once everything the villain children did didn’t become a headline.

Somehow, it never happened. And less than two years later, provisions were being made for all the Isle children to be brought off of the Isle and to live in Auradon, with their first option being their parents enemies, and Anita and Roger hadn’t met Carlos once.

All the people who had faced off against villains were being encouraged to meet the children of said villains, the idea being to promote acceptance and encouragement of the VKs among the general population. Also to reassure the VKs that nothing was held against them, if, indeed, nothing was held against them. In fact, several people had applied not only to meet their respective villain’s children but in fact to adopt them-the de Chateaupers, the Fitzherberts, the Darlings.

And now Anita and Roger were going to meet Carlos de Vil and his cousin-Diego, his name was, according to the paper they’d been given.

“We should have said something before now,” Anita fretted as she dashed around the living room straightening everything. “He’s going to think we wanted nothing to do with him.”

“Calm down,” Roger soothed. “Wait until we actually meet him. Be calm-don’t mention Cruella-”

The doorbell rang. Anita and Roger both ran for the door, hesitated for a moment, reached for the doorknob at the same time and bumped their hands into each other, before finally Anita stepped back, allowing Roger to open the door.

There were four of them there.

She hadn’t expected only Cruella’s son. She’d known he had a cousin. But these were four people, not two.

There was a boy of about fifteen or sixteen, with a shy, nervous smile and black hair that bled into white-not split right down the middle like Cruella’s-and Cruella’s same unnatural pallor.

There was a boy a year or two older that looked like he could be his brother, but he was taller, with a healthy flush in his cheeks, and stood with more confidence.

And the other two-

Anita stumbled back, feeling dizzy. She heard her own heart pounding, the blood rushing in her ears. Beside her, Roger looked just as rattled.

“It’s you,” she whispered through numb lips as Roger stepped in front of her. “How did you leave?”

The young woman standing next to Carlos and Diego de Vil had black and white hair split right down the middle, perfectly red lips curved up in a sardonic smile, sharp cheekbones, and dark green eyes.

“Cruella,” Roger growls.

She looked the same, the same as she had the day she’d been sent to the Isle. It had been more than twenty years. How was this possible?

The de Vil woman shook her head, her eyes widening with an expression of chagrin that had never appeared on Cruella’s face. “I’m not-I look like her, but I’m not her. She’s my aunt, that’s why we look so much alike.”

“Your aunt,” Anita echoed, feeling steadier. But the only niece Cruella had ever had was-

“I’m Ivy,” the woman who looked exactly like Cruella said. “These are my cousins Carlos and Diego-” She gestured at the two boys, not saying which one was Cruella’s son, although they already knew- ”and Hunter.” She motioned to the last member of the de Vil group, a man who appeared to be in his midtwenties, who shared Carlos’s freckles and Ivy’s green eyes.

Ivy de Vil. Hunter de Vil.

“Is this a joke?” Roger asked.

The de Vils exchanged glances. Subtly, Hunter and Ivy shifted so that they were in front of Carlos and Diego.

“No,” Hunter said slowly, his voice gravelly, so different from a child’s high voice. “Why would it be? We were told to come here...we can leave if you want. You’re the Radcliffes, right?” He and Ivy, as the oldest, seemed to be speaking for the group.

He looked the same, but...not.

“You were dead,” Anita breathed.

Hunter looked almost embarrassed. “Oh. Yeah.” He and Ivy shared a look. “We kind of were.”

.

.

.

.

The de Vils all trooped inside and washed their hands in the kitchen sink and sat or sprawled on the carpet in the living room, even Hunter, instead of the couch or the armchairs, as though they weren’t in a strange house with the people that their mother or aunt had stolen from. As though, together, they felt perfectly at ease. They all politely refused any refreshments.

“So, we were dead,” Ivy said, sitting cross-legged. “In the accident. You know about it?”

Roger and Anita, sitting together on the couch, nodded simultaneously.

Hunter’s eyes were dark; he stared off into the distance as though looking at something far away. Of course; remembering your own death couldn’t be pleasant. And he had been thirteen, older than Ivy had been. He would remember far more.

Diego shifted so his arm was touching his older cousin’s, as though to remind him that he wasn’t alone. Hunter gave him a small smile.

“But, you know,” Ivy continued, “they brought all the dead villains back to life. They did that to us too.” She shrugged, as though it was simple.

“But then how did you end up on the Isle?” Anita asked.

Ivy blinked. “That’s why they brought us back in the first place,” she scoffed. “To imprison us on the Isle. Because death was too good for us, apparently.”

“You were seven,” Roger said suddenly, leaning forward to look Ivy in the eye. “When you-died. You were seven, and they brought you back from death only to send you to the Isle.”

“Yes.” She didn’t look angry. She just looked weary, as though all her anger had gone its course and burned out of her. “Hunter was thirteen. We woke up at Hell Hall and gave poor Uncle Cecil a heart attack. Carlos and Diego were only a couple of years younger than I was then. Took...quite some getting used to. Everyone was rather confused.” She laughed bitterly.

“Well,” Carlos said suddenly; it was the first time he’d spoken. He flushed at the attention he’d called to himself, but continued. “If they hadn’t brought you back, or if you’d stayed in Auradon, me and Diego wouldn’t have had you. I mean-not that it’s right that they sent you to the Isle, it’s terrible-”

“We know, Carlos,” Hunter sighed.

Diego grinned. “We filled out lots of complaints! I know the forms by heart.”

“Let me finish! But,” Carlos continued, “then we wouldn’t have had you. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t been with us.”

“Me either,” Diego added.

“Or me,” Ivy deadpanned, and they all laughed, somehow. Perhaps it was a gift, to find laughter in the darkest moments.