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separatist-apologist · 3 years ago

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Lucien Vanserra + The Villain Theory & Why the Mating Bond Is Not Fake

I've been thinking about this for a while and I've decided I want to debunk this because of all the *insert character that is definitely not the villain becoming a secret villain*, Lucien is most definitely not it.

The theory, according to tiktok, is that Lucien is a secret schemer who has tricked everyone, including Elain, into believing they are mates for undefined, suspicious reasons likely related to Koschei. I find this unlikely considering his "father" is ALSO scheming with Koschei and Lucien likely has some awareness of this considering how often Eris is suddenly hanging around.

This is so long. Everything is under the cut.

However, lets pretend he doesn't. There is consistent, contextual proof that Lucien a) could not make up a mating bond even if he wanted to and b) everyone would know if he had.

Starting in ACOTAR, Tamlin tells Feyre the story of Lucien. On page 160, Tamlin says:

"Lucien said he didn't care she wasn't one of the High Fae, that he was certain the mating bond would snap soon and that he was going to marry her and leave his father's court to his scheming brothers."

Followed up on page 161, Tamlin adds:

"...his father has never apologized and his brothers are too frightened of me to risk harming him. But he has never forgotten what they did to her...even if he pretends he has."

That's ACOTAR. I know SJM likes to change things on a whim, but foundationally, this is Lucien's character and across all five books, it never changes. Lucien is still haunted by Jesminda and the mating bond he lost. He firmly believes, if we believe Tamlin to be a reliable narrator (and we should, as Lucien backs Tamlin's opinion up in his private thoughts. It is also worth noting that if Lucien has a villain origin story, it begins right here, the moment his father beheads Jesminda. To assume he's the villain, we ought to believe that he's been scheming non-stop for at least 200 years (since he's like, 300ish?) and to what end? To kill Beron? He'd have been scheming far longer than Elain was alive.

Moving right along to ACOMAF, on page 619, Amren says:

"And the bond," Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling.

Mor said, "She asked the king to break the bond. He obliged."

I thought I might be dying- thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two.

"Thats impossible," Amren said. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"The kind said he could do it."

"The king is a fool," Amren barked. "That sort of bond cannot be broken."

"No, it can't," I said.

This is from Rhys' perspective. A mating bond can't be broken with magic- it's forever. Even rejected or in death (we'll get there), the mating bond is for life. Assuming Lucien's mate was Jesminda, even if it hadn't snapped in death, she would STILL be his mate and death would not have changed that. Neither would any magic Lucien, a spell-cleaver, might possess.

Let's also consider Elain, who has no reason to lie and every reason to call Lucien out regarding the bond. In ACOMAF, page 608, we see this:

"...Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder. At Lucien-whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain-

Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, "You're my mate."

It's Elain who sees him first, who feels the mating bond mere seconds before Lucien. Why choose Elain, if you're going to pick a fake mate for your scheme? The argument is generally that she has the least amount of knowledge about Faeries and no interest in that education but how would Lucien know that? Feyre told Lucien nothing about her sisters (she told Ianthe instead), which means he would have had to guess. Given that Elain fights being put in the Cauldron, there's nothing contextually in that moment that suggests that Lucien somehow knew she was the easier sister to fool.

It's also worth noting that Lucien, up until that moment, still genuinely believes Jesminda was his mate. If he's the villain, having a fake mate makes no sense to the story or his plans.

Feyre has been inside Lucien's mind twice. Once in ACOMAF (pg. 95):

"Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless-"

And again in ACOWAR when Lucien meets Elain for the first time. On page 249, we get the best description of what Lucien is feeling regarding the mating bond, all through Feyre's perspective:

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand?

The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn't dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn't yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough.

Touch her, smell her, taste her-

The instincts were running a river. he fisted his hands at his sides."

"But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda."

"Elain had been...thrown at him."

"That circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug."

"But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the senses chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours."

"She looked away- towards the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing and drained his tea even as it burned his mouth.

'When I sleep,' she murmured, 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. 'Can you hear mine?'

He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, 'No, lady. I cannot.'"

These are Lucien's thoughts from Feyre's perspective. He has no idea she's in his head, so why is he thinking all those things? Why feel guilt that he finds her beautiful or that he'd once said all the same things to Jesminda that he thinks about Elain? Why care about her well-being? We know mates are driven to protect and Lucien's very first thoughts about Elain are ones of concern. She's not eating, she's too thin, how can she possibly stand? Not, hahaah my evil planned worked and I totally have an in with the Night Court (which, why would he need considering Tamlin is currently allied with Hybern and Lucien could have taken full advantage of that?).

Additionally, assuming Lucien is faking the mating bond for some poorly defined, evil plot, why keep such distance? Why not force himself on her? That's the claim, right? That he's forcing her to be with him which is amusing because in ACOFAS, Lucien has some thoughts on page 162"

"'How is she?'

'Better. She makes no mention of her abilities. If they remain.'

'Good. But is she still...' A muscle flickered in his jaw. 'Does she still mourn him?'"

First question he asks. "How is she?" Followed by if she's still in love with her ex-fiance. And I can hear the screaming now, "HE ASKED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO OWN HER" but like, on page 165 of ACOFAS, we get:

"I can't stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minutes."

Truly a stupid plan to fake a mating bond with a person that is causing you to be eaten alive with guilt and longing. We know the second he's around her, Lucien's is overwhelmed with the mating instincts and feels guilt over Jesminda, which is why he spends little time around Elain. He also tells Feyre, on that same page, he doesn't want his life to be financed by Rhysand. Feyre practically begs Lucien to move back to Velaris, to work for her full time, to let her set him up somewhere nicer and Lucien declines it all. If his plan hinged on getting closer to the IC, to using Rhys' resources, why tell her no? Why not take her up on it? Why not make him part of her life in a much more tangible way?

And finally, the dreaded scent of the mating bond. Feyre doesn't risk talking to Rhys when she's in Spring for fear of alerting everyone to the scent of the bond. Azriel, too, cannot stand the smell of it to the point he stands in the doorway during solstice rather than come in.

Ladies, Gentleman, and Non-binary pals of the jury, examine the evidence. For Lucien to be a villain, he has to KNOW that Feyre is a daemati before she does and both leave his thoughts unguarded while constantly assuming she MIGHT be picking through them. He also has to be able to control large amounts of people at the same time via the smell of the bond and Elain being able to feel it. When he tugs, she responds.

It would require everyone around them to be incredibly dumb. Feyre and Rhys basically share a mind and while they don't necessarily trust Lucien (unfairly imo), I firmly believe one of them would have picked up on a fake bond or Lucien's scheming.

Lucien wanted Jesminda, not Elain. If he decided to punish the world around him for the consistent pain he was enduring, he doesn't need Elain to achieve this. He's friends with Feyre. He has contacts all over Prythian. He didn't need to fake a mating bond, nor does it make any sense to do so. What they have is REAL.

And lastly, the bond can't be broken. Rejected, yes, broken no. Regardless if you think they'll keep it or not, they ARE mates and Lucien is NOT the villain who will be heroically slaughtered. They're awkward, they're uncomfortable, they have shit to work out but they ARE mates, and Lucien has proven over and over that all he wants is a home and goddamn peace and quiet.

#lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra meta #anti e*riel #antiv*ssien #anti el/riel #anti v/ssien #theories that are just not based in reality #but are probably interesting twists in a fanfic i wouldn't read

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galladerocksgamer · 3 years ago

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Okay so I love the Paranormal Liberation War arc, it does so much fantastic stuff, dang near perfect across the board. But I think it’s pretty widely felt that the pacing got a bit off the rails near the end, we had big reveals and character moments stacking up and half of them barely even felt relevant. And me being the person who just thinks about things in depth and for long periods, I’ve still been dwelling on it for months. And now as the manga has continued, I’m finally seeing how some of the aforementioned War moments could have been better executed in different situations, because honestly this latest arc seems like it would have been tailor-made to address them all. So lemme take a closer look at three different components here: Mirio/Eri, Bakugo, and Hawks.

1. Mirio and Eri

Probably the most random moment from the war’s climax, don’t think anyone was predicting the sudden return of Mirio to battle. I love Mirio, he’s one of my favorite characters, but it was a pretty anticlimactic way to bring him back into the fold. He doesn’t even really bring anything special to the battle, nothing uniquely Mirio. His role is just backing up Best Jeanist against the Nomu, and anyone could have done that. Burnin could’ve arrived sooner, or Manual and Rock Lock could’ve come back after getting the injured heroes to safety. Heck, if you still wanted the Nighteye agency to be involved, then Bubble Girl and Centipeder could’ve been the cavalry to help Jeanist. But instead Mirio returns unexpectedly and none too remarkably.

And on top of that, we’re basically just told “oh by the way Eri has some control of her power now.” Something that the series had been building up toward for awhile just … occurs off-screen with no forewarning. Really feels like a disservice to Eri and her development to not give that intense moment any real spotlight.

It felt extremely weird for me at the time, but I also kinda wanted to give it the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the coming arcs just couldn’t afford to place focus on Eri and Mirio, so their respective developments were tied together to lend an extra surprise to the war’s final bout. But instead this most recent arc has gone the opposite route … through the return of Chisaki.

The man once known as Overhaul, now thoroughly broken and wanting nothing more than to fix his one great regret. With Nagant’s defeat, he winds up back in custody, but having now once again met with Midoriya and made his wish known. So indeed, the opportunity arises for Eri and Mirio to be brought back to the forefront. I don’t doubt that we will indeed have at least a brief glimpse at Eri healing Chisaki’s boss as Midoriya promised, but the potential for that scene could really have been through the roof if it was the impetus for Eri to willingly use her power on a person for the first time.

Imagine Midoriya coming to Eri with that heavy request, of Eri deciding to offer this kindness toward Chisaki of all people, using her power to heal before the man who always told her that she could only destroy. Because really, I don’t think there’d be a question of that, we know the kind of kid Eri is, and she won’t let anyone suffer if there’s any way she could prevent it. Even if Chisaki was the person asking, there might be hesitation and fear, but is there any doubt she’d offer what aid she could in the end? And for Pops to be the first person she helps, to undo the harm carelessly inflicted by Chisaki … well, it’d certainly be poetic.

As for Mirio in this scenario, that could go a couple ways. Route 1: Eri is hesitant to help Chisaki with Pops because she would rather help Mirio get his Quirk back, and we know that her power seems to have a bit of a limit on it via the energy stored in her horn. So what if it did work, but she ran out of juice healing Pops and then made Mirio wait even longer? Well, of course that’s exactly what he’d insist on, he wouldn’t let himself take priority over another person in need of Eri’s help. And he’d take it all in good spirits as always. Or Route 2, if there was concern that Eri’s power could run wild while trying to help Pops, then they could go the complete opposite direction and have Mirio offer to go first, to be the guinea pig for Eri in case of emergency. But of course, he’d have full faith in her all along and coax her through, ensuring her of just how helpful and brave she always is.

So yes, can see how Eri and Mirio’s development could have taken a more satisfying route, and cap us off with some good ole Chisaki angst to boot (though at least we’ve still got a decent serving of that). Now moving on …

2. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight

So Bakugo’s long and arduous journey of personal growth reached a new peak during the battle with Shigaraki, where his body moved without thinking and he underwent his true heroic awakening to protect Midoriya. Such a sacrifice seems like a perfect cap for his development for the War arc … and then a couple chapters later he forces himself right back into action to back up Best Jeanist, and as promised he reveals his over-the-top hero name to his mentor. In this case I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with the reveal, but in light of his preceding big heroic action, it really feels like a hat on a hat.

It’s not like Bakugo’s hero name heralded some major turning point for the battle; Jeanist’s arrival (and subsequently Mirio’s) had already assured that. And like Mirio, there wasn’t any real special reason for Bakugo to rejoin the fight with the Nomu, especially with Iida and Hado on the scene. After getting skewered by Shigaraki, it would have been pretty simple for Bakugo to just spend the rest of the fight bleeding unconscious on the ground, rather than complicating matters by shoving him back into the fray. And ultimately, the moment feels a bit anticlimactic. All the suspense waiting for Bakugo’s hero name, and then it’s revealed at a time where he barely even has the spotlight.

Of course, such a bombastic name as “Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight” doesn’t particularly lend itself to a quiet or emotional scene, so it wouldn’t be thematically fitting to move that revelation to Bakugo’s hospital bed or his somber apology to Midoriya. That said, given his decision to announce the name first to Jeanist, there would at least be precedent for him to have a “Dabi says secrets in a black speech bubble” moment in the hospital in which he talks to Jeanist but leaves the readers in the dark, before coming back to the actual audience reveal later on.

And there must certainly be other opportunities to present the name appropriately. Bakugo is a master of making an explosive entrance, after all. And when Class 1-A finally catches up to Midoriya, if Bakugo really wanted to make a big impact on his friend/rival before getting into the sentimental stuff, then it would be a prime chance to reveal his hero name in grandiose fashion, both to Midoriya and the audience.

Or if his hero name had been Kacchan, then that reveal would have fit right in with his apology to Midoriya, but that’s neither here nor there

This could be one scenario, of course, but it hardly feels like that would’ve been the only option. And compared to the crammed-in reveal in the final fight with the League, it’s easy to say that there could have been plenty of smoother roads to take. But setting that aside, moving onto the final touch:

3. Hawks

The long-awaited Hawks backstory doesn’t really disappoint. Admittedly, there weren’t really a lot of holes necessary to fill in there; we’d had enough bits and pieces provided before this point to pretty much put together the whole picture of his crummy childhood. But even without any really surprising turns, the flashback is welcome and hits some good emotional beats. But really, the glaring issue in this area is the timing.

We’re presented this backstory at an instance where Hawks is hardly the most relevant character. Shigaraki is undergoing a personal crisis as All For One seizes the reigns of his own body, Endeavor’s dark history has been exposed and the Todoroki family is in turmoil, escapees from Tartarus roam the streets, and Midoriya consults internally with the vestiges of One For All ... and the narrative decides to take a chapter to look at Hawks. Practically nothing from his flashback directly relates to present events, serving only to further emphasize his already well-established devotion to Endeavor and his (misguided) understanding of Twice’s feelings. The timing is just kind of baffling, especially with some other more appropriate places being readily apparent.

For instance, only a dozen chapters later, we’re properly introduced to Lady Nagant. As Hawks’s predecessor within the Hero Commission, the two have a lot in common, and the similarities and differences between the two could set up some interesting comparisons if Hawks’s backstory was saved to follow up Nagant’s. Two idealistic young children, handpicked by the Commission and groomed into assassins, yet whose outlooks in the present day are starkly opposed? Nagant's guilt driving her to turn on the Commission, while Hawks holds few regrets despite the blood on his hands, longing for freedom from the Commission’s grasp? That kind of parallel could really have built a more solid foundation for Hawks’s past to be laid upon.

That could be an effective setup, but there’s another approach I’d actually much rather have seen, one that brings Hawks’s backstory not later, but earlier: during the dramatic confrontation between Hawks and Dabi. The instant that Dabi reveals he knows Hawks’s real name, the story opens itself up perfectly to dive into his past. And the timing would be superb, showing Hawks at his worst as he murders Twice, then turning back the clock to look at the innocent child who just wants to save people. A little boy whose feathers tingle with the need to rescue those in need, superimposed against the man whose same feathers are used to deliver the killing blow to a victim of hero society’s ills. You want angst? Now that’s how you do angst. Placing the backstory there would play up the tragedy of both Hawks and Twice simultaneously: a “hero” raised by the Commission to cut threats to their control short at the root, and a “villain” who could have been a kindred spirit but instead suffers for their would-be friendship.

And that’s not even the icing on the cake. The real matter of interest here comes in Hawks’s view of Endeavor. By the time we get to Hawks’s backstory, all of Japan has already learned of Endeavor’s history from Dabi, and the result of the timing feels a smidge tone-deaf, and fails to realize the full potential resonance of the situation. The flashback to young Hawks as a victim of child abuse, who is rescued (unwittingly) when Endeavor arrests his father, is presented to us as the moment when Hawks realized that heroes are real, not merely a fantasy. We see why he developed such an ideal view of heroes, and why he is so specifically loyal to Endeavor ... so just imagine if all that was presented during his showdown with Dabi. Imagine if all that came before the tragic revelation of Toya Todoroki. The true terrible irony, that Hawks was rescued from his abusive father by someone secretly guilty of the same crimes, that Hawks’s whole epiphany of “real heroism” was founded upon one of the most corrupt enforcers of all.

The end result would be the same, I’m sure. After all, this is certainly the same thought process Hawks was going through all along, and his decision to maintain his faith in Endeavor’s personal growth would presumably remain unchanged. But presenting Hawks’s backstory before Dabi’s would have opened up a lot more room for us as the audience to actually see Hawks’s views be challenged. If there’s one real complaint I’ve got about Hawks’s character, it’s that we don’t really tend to see him questioning himself or his actions; whatever happens, he rolls with it and presses on, no matter how his ideals are brought into question. But this simple matter of timing could go a long ways to remedying that, granting the audience the chance to watch Hawks grapple with his personal image of and approach to heroism, and his relationship with Endeavor, rather than allowing most of that to pass unseen in the wake of the war’s end. Even if he would ultimately come to the same conclusion, at least such a narrative structure would provide a much more satisfying presentation of his struggle up to that point.

So, I’m not great at endings, but that brings us to the conclusion of my rambling though process here. To recap, the more I’ve thought about it, the more obvious it is that the backloaded War arc could be remedied, and the following arc only made that more obvious. Why force Mirio’s return so soon when he could be tied in later with Eri mastering her powers and the desperate pleas of Chisaki? Why shove in Bakugo’s hero name when the boy has already made a tremendous impact on the arc, and will be more open to further focus during the conflict with Deku in the next? And why throw in Hawks’s backstory as a standalone chapter at a time when it’s largely irrelevant, when there was such great potential to emotionally contrast him with the backstory of Nagant or Dabi? These are the kinds of things I think about. Little things, really, and honestly the whole reason they stand out to me is just that the rest of the arc around them is so dang fantastic. So … yes. This is the testament to my love for this manga, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, byeeeeee

#mha #bnha #mha manga spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #paranormal liberation war

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

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Long Night in the Valley chapter 8

A young man walked in. His hair was dark, the style conservative. The only thing that stood out about him was his high-collared jacket.

Aizawa knows who this man is, for much the same reasons that Uraraka knew Skyrunner.

Fidelity had literally written the book on underground heroism. It hadn’t been published until his death.

The lights flickered. The murmuring of the shadows rose, then cut off abruptly, the shadows disappearing along with Nana. The projector screen changed. It now read:

Greetings 9’s Friends! (And teacher.)

“This was my last mission briefing before I died,” said the young man. “At least, that’s what I’d say if I was really Fidelity.”

“You’re saying you aren’t,” said Aizawa, keeping his voice level.

The screen behind him changed to read Vestiges: what you need to know.

“I am based on Fidelity. I’m also based on Railgun.”

“The hero who took down Destro?” asked Uraraka, clenching her fists and briefly floating in excitement.

Why was she not getting a better grade in history?

“Not exactly. He wasn’t actually captured until years later.”

“But you broke his charge, his army! And all by yourself!”

“Railgun did, yes. I’ve put together a little presentation for you guys. Hope you don’t mind. We all figured you wouldn’t want to go any further without an explanation of sorts.” He said this all with an enviably flat voice, despite his friendly words. His body language was controlled and to the point.

Darn Midoriya for managing to build a fantasy that was so close to what Aizawa had always imagined the man to be like.

(He was not a fan of Fidelity. Underground heroes did not have fans. It defeated the point.)

(He pointedly ignored his memories of the bootleg Eraserhead merchandise Midoriya and Yamada had snuck to Eri.)

“You’d be right,” said Aizawa.

“Cool,” said Six. “Before we begin, I want you to understand that much of what I’m going to tell you will be a lie.”

“What?” said Iida, confused. “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is, there will be enough truth in it to get you through this safely, and enough falsehood to prevent the commission from taking advantage of Nine later, should they be watching what’s happening here with a quirk we can’t detect.”

“Nine?”

“Izuku,” clarified Six.

“Who you called Nine because…?”

“If we count in order of when we were supposedly born, he’s the ninth. Although, really, he’s the first. I’ll explain in a moment.” He pointed to the screen. “We call ourselves vestiges, and, like I said, we are all based on real people. We’re part of Nine’s quirk.” The screen switched to show Midoriya with eight shadowy figures behind him. “I want to stress that Nine wasn’t aware of us until the sports festival. Specifically…”

The screen now showed Midoriya’s fight with Hitoshi, right before he broke his fingers. Aizawa recognized the image as a still from one of the cameras. Except those eight shadows were there as well, right in front of Midoriya.

“You had something to do with him breaking his fingers and getting out of Shinsou’s quirk.”

“We don’t mix well with mental quirks, apparently. Nine minds all together at once are too many, even if eight of them are fictional. It’s an interesting side effect. Speaking of which.”

The new slide was a picture. An edited picture. Of a person giving a presentation.

“Is that a meme?” asked Todoroki.

“Yes,” said Six.

The slide read, You were never in All Might’s mind. Nine was just confused.

That meme was so old Aizawa could feel himself taking psychic damage just by looking at it.

“You’ve been passing through our, the vestiges’, mindscapes. Eight is simply based on All Might.”

That would be a relief, if not for the fact that that Six had admitted he was going to lie. Also, there was something off about the whole explanation.

Iida raised his hand. “Excuse me! You claim that you are part of Midoriya’s quirk, but you haven’t explained how!”

“I’m getting to that,” said Six. “Todoroki-san, you’re the one who is always saying how similar Nine and All Might’s quirks are. Do you have any theories?”

Todoroki’s eyes lit up, even though he kept his habitual deadpan expression. “Midoriya is All Might’s secret—”

“We wish, but sadly no. Pick a different one.”

Todoroki looked devastated. He collected himself quickly, however. “Midoriya’s strength,” he said, “he got it from All Might, didn’t he?”

“Yes. Eight is a bit of a complicated case, since he’s based on someone who is alive and Nine knows personally, but in the end, he’s the same as the rest of us.”

“He said something about receiving Skyrunner’s quirk, earlier,” said Uraraka.

“And Blackwhip…” said Iida.

“You’re getting it,” said Six. “Blackwhip originally belonged to Five, incidentally.”

“He has a copy quirk,” concluded Aizawa.

Six nodded. The screen changed. “Right now, Nine has four quirks, three of which he can use freely. Superpower, Blackwhip, and Float,” he read the quirk names off the screen.

“And he’s going to get more?” asked Aizawa.

“Eventually,” said Six. “We don’t want to overload his body—This whole process only kicked off when he met All Might.”

“And why you?” asked Aizawa. “Why All Might, Skyrunner and these… Five others?”

“I would like to tell you,” said Six. He raised a finger and waved it in a circle to indicate outside listeners.

“What are the drawbacks?” asked Aizawa.

“Hm?”

“The drawbacks. I get dry eyes when I use my quirk. Present Mic is deaf. Vlad is anemic. A quirk like this one has to have a drawback.”

“What, the broken bones aren’t enough for you? Or the fact he didn’t hit on the activation conditions until he was fourteen?”

Aizawa stared, unimpressed.

A tiny corner of Six’s mouth made itself visible over the collar of his coat. “Well. I think you can make some conclusions but, again…” He trailed off. “There are a few more things you should be aware of. First, Nine had no choice in who we are, although we all fulfil certain criteria.”

“Are you all relatives?” asked Todoroki.

“Man, you never do give up, do you?” said Six. “That’s a great quality in a hero.”

“Are you all heroes, then?” continued Todoroki.

The slide on the screen changed again.

Vestiges According to History:

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero

4. Vigilante

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

“Unfortunately,” said Six, “no.”

Toshinori caught sight of the feathers first. He had more experience as a hero, and, as he was no longer the primary user of One for All, the mental strain he was experiencing was much lower, comparatively. His awareness of his surroundings was better.

Stay calm. Don’t speak. Don’t run.

Hawks could receive sensory input from his feathers, though neither Toshinori nor Izuku knew how much. Better to be safe than sorry.

We need to get out of the city.

Out of the country, too, for that matter, as much as it would hurt Izuku—

They couldn’t leave all their friends behind to face Shigaraki.

A compromise could be reached. They knew a few places—An island, near—

But first, the city. The first priority was to evade pursuit.

A bus pulled into the stop ahead of them, and they got on. If they could get outside city limits, where there were fewer people, fewer witnesses, Izuku could float them away. Also, Hawks was less likely to trap his feathers on a bus.

We might be dealing with the Hawks problem earlier than thought.

Izuku slouched back on the bus seat, covering his eyes. Toshinori looked up at the ceiling. The Hawks problem. AKA, the others’ theory that Hawks had been raised as a child soldier, and Toshinori had missed the signs.

Izuku put his hand on Toshinori’s knee.

“I can’t believe it,” said one of the other passengers, a few rows ahead of them. “I really just can’t believe it. It’s like something from a horror story.”

“What?” asked someone else.

“Look!”

“Someone kidnapped All Might?”

The bus filled with chatter.

Toshinori still couldn’t believe people thought Izuku kidnapped him. The reality was closer to the opposite, honestly. He’d have to apologize to Izuku’s mother…

There was a tiny incensed gasp from Izuku, and Toshinori saw Izuku glaring up at him. Izuku made a series of gestures that could probably have been interpreted as ‘You can’t kidnap anyone, you’re All Might!’ even without the psychic link they were currently enjoying, then went into an enthusiastic tangent about how the commission was probably playing up the ‘crazy stalker fan’ angle.

Toshinori sighed, ruffled Izuku’s hair, and studiously avoided any and all thoughts about what he’d done to Aldera Middle School after Izuku had shown up to training with a black eye and bloody nose that one time.

“What?” squeaked Izuku, his eyes gone very wide.

Drat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori saw three passengers near the front of the bus stand up and felt his heart drop. One of them had an obvious eagle mutation, the second had a bulging, almost spherical, neck, and the third had broad, flat-ended fingers.

Decades of hero experience told Toshinori exactly what was going to happen next. Even before the guns came out.

“Well,” said the eagle-headed man, “with all the heroes looking for the ‘Symbol of Peace,’ I guess this is our lucky day!”

“Nobody move!” demanded the man with the round neck. “This is a hijacking!”

Izuku let out an incredulous grunt next to him, but Toshinori could literally feel his mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, analyzing the quirks of the hijackers and possible motives.

Really. There was no way they weren’t going to help.

“By the way, not all of Nine is awake, so, out in the real world his body is operating according to consensus.”

“Consensus of…” said Aizawa, not wanting to finish the thought as he stared at the two entries labeled ‘terrorist.’

“All nine of us together, yes.”

“That’s a pretty big drawback,” said Aizawa, his voice rasping against his throat.

“Eh. It has its benefits. Besides, Three and Two lived over a hundred years ago. We didn’t even have the hero system back then. Things change.”

“Excuse me!” said Iida, raising his hand. “Why don’t the last four—the first four? —have names?”

“They asked me not to share them with you quite yet,” said Six. “Don’t call Three a terrorist though. That’s a bit of a sore spot with her.” He looked off to the side.

“And the quirks?” said Aizawa, hanging on to the very last bit of his will to live by the tips of his fingers. “The ones I’m presumably going to have to teach Midoriya how to use?”

“Right.”

Our Splendiferous Quirks

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero. Quirk: Superpower.

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero. Quirk: Float.

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero. Quirk: Internet Perception.

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero. Quirk: Blackwhip.

4. Vigilante. Quirk: Danger Sense.

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

Aizawa was not surprised to see the last four entries, once again, had little information attached.

“You know,” said Uraraka, “if you ignore the terrorists, this actually makes sense.”

“If you ignore the terrorists?” asked Iida, incredulous.

“I mean, think about who we’ve seen so far.”

“It is like Midoriya to have a split personality based on All Might,” agreed Todoroki. Because split personalities were going to be his go-to theory, now that figments of Midoriya’s quirk’s imagination had shot down his ‘Dadmight’ conspiracy.

“If you want to think of us as split personalities, sure,” said Six. “We really don’t interact that much with the outside, though.”

“And Skyrunner is basically supermom,” said Uraraka. “Like, if she was All Might’s mentor, it makes sense that that’s what he’d envision her as.”

“Ah,” said Iida, “so she reminds you of Midoriya-san as well?”

Aizawa noticed Six shift uncomfortably and look away but decided he honestly did not want to know.

“Oh, and you,” said Uraraka, spreading her hands to indicate Six, “are kind of like Aizawa-sensei!

“Except with more memes,” said Todoroki.

“Yeah, except with more memes,” agreed Uraraka.

Six faked a cough into his fist. “Anyway, I think that’s everything… No, wait. Hawks.”

“Hawks,” repeated Aizawa.

“Yeah. We’re pretty sure he was raised and conditioned to be a slave for the commission from a very young age.” Another pause. Six turned to face Todoroki. “Also, Dabi is probably your dead older brother, Todoroki Touya.”

“Oh,” said Todoroki.

“What,” said Aizawa.

“We’d just like someone in a position to do things with this information to have it. Even if we were sure Nine would retain all this, he, ah. The commission is doing a very good job of trashing his reputation.”

“Is this revenge?” whispered Todoroki. “Did I push Midoriya too far?”

“Kid, you could beat Nine up on a weekly basis for ten years, and he’d still barely think of revenge. Come on, I need to take you guys to Five.”

Barely, he said. Meaning, he did think about revenge. They had to get out of here fast; Bakugo’s life was in danger.

There were lives in danger. A simple robbery wouldn’t require this kind of setup. These three needed hostages for some reason.

Or… Izuku traced the direction the three villains kept looking to the college student in the corner. The young woman’s clothing was high quality, and she looked vaguely familiar.

He couldn’t help but be exasperated. Shigaraki Tomura was running around out there somewhere, and these guys were doing… whatever this was. Causing problems. He and Toshinori would have to try and evade Hawks after this.

But exasperation wasn’t going to keep these people safe.

Eagle-head looked like the leader at first glance, but on closer inspection, he was taking cues from the man with the squared-off fingers. The man with the round neck seemed to have a body expansion quirk of some type, possibly similar to Kendo’s, considering how his joints pulsed and how his clothing was designed with extra folds.

… He’d shown Toshinori a catalogue with similar clothing, once. But Toshinori had said that the ill-fitting look added to his disguise.

In the tight confines of the bus, that would be dangerous. The best thing to do to him would be to throw him out when the bus came to a stop.

The quirk of the man with the square finger was a problem. It was probably an emitter type, rather than a transformation type. Something to do with his hands, perhaps?

Honestly, the best thing to do for all of them, at least with regards to the people on the bus, would be to toss them off and then get the driver to gun it. But then, what about people on the street? These guys didn’t have any scruple against taking hostages, obviously.

“Hey, you, hand over the briefcase,” said the man with the round neck.

Izuku glanced at Toshinori, who nodded. Coils of Blackwhip ran up and down his arms under the sleeves of his suit, much more controlled and complex than Izuku had managed to date.

Thanks for the help, Five.

He slammed the briefcase into the eagle-headed man’s beak. Toshinori hadn’t skimped on anything when stocking the hideout, and the metal made immensely satisfying contact with bone. Blackwhip shot out from near his elbow—like Sero—and wrapped around the hands of the gunmen, forcing their aim down.

The man with square fingers reacted first, raising his hand. Each fingertip emitted a flat, square pane that traveled in a straight line and got progressive larger. Izuku pulled, slamming the man into the back of his own shield, because really, that was too slow, and how similar was this quirk to Crust’s? Could the villain change the trajectory of his panels, or no?

Not the time.

The shield cracked as Izuku hit it from the other side, and Toshinori was throwing open the back door. The man with the expanding quirk—and it was an expanding quirk—seemed to finally realize what was happening, and lashed out, but Izuku was faster than he was. The spherical throat was evidently a weak point.

“Can you stop?” Izuku asked the bus driver, who, tense as he was, slammed down on the brakes, making Izuku stumble. He hauled the villains off the bus, Toshinori hopping off the back with the eagle-headed man a moment later.

Well, that had happened.

Izuku caught a flash of very distinctive red out of the corner of his eye.

Six stopped. “That isn’t good,” he said, looking slightly up. There was nothing there that Aizawa could see, except for a collection of pipes. They were travelling through a series of underground concrete passages in an effort to find ‘Five.’

“What is it?” asked Uraraka.

Six’s form abruptly flickered and vanished. Oh, that couldn’t be good.

“Sensei.”

Aizawa turned to see Midoriya standing behind them, wearing a truly godawful pinstriped suit. He held his right wrist in his left hand, an odd bracer wrapped around it.

“Is that the Full Gauntlet?” asked Uraraka. “Why-?”

Midoriya flashed a quick smile in her direction. “I’m sorry, sensei, this is really last minute, but I need you to tell me how to use your quirk.”

We absolutely can’t strike first.

They wanted to. They knew this would turn into a battle. The first strike was an advantage they couldn’t discount.

Win the battle and lose the war.

He could see the cell phones already out, held bystanders not quite broken from the habits gained in All Might’s era. Even with the Hero Commission already slandering him, this would affect the narrative. If he ever hoped to be welcomed back to hero society, or even the public’s good graces, in any way shape or form, he could not be seen starting a fight with a hero. Much less the current number two hero.

“I don’t suppose you’ll make my job easier and release All Might from your mind-control quirk,” said Hawks, tone conversational despite the fact he was standing at least two stories above them in the air.

“I don’t have a mind-control quirk,” said Izuku, reaching up to the knot of his tie.

“And I’m not being mind-controlled,” said Toshinori, loosening his mask.

Hawks actually paused. “Oh my gosh,” he said, raising one hand to his mouth like a scandalized housewife, “I didn’t realize that was you! What happened to your hair?”

“I… cut it off.”

“That’s, uh.” Hawks quickly regained control of his expression. “Terrible that this villain made you do that.”

Hawks’ heart wasn’t entirely in this apparently.

Just as apparently, that had no bearing on what Hawks was actually going to do.

“You’ve seen me use my quirk,” said Aizawa.

“I know, and that’ll be helpful, too, but how do you use it? What’s the feeling you get when you use it? How do you activate it? What’s the internal mechanism? This is important.”

“Why?” asked Iida. “What’s going on Midoriya?”

“It’s—” Midoriya’s form flickered. He took a deep breath. He was now wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. “I’m in a fight right now, and it would be useful,” he reported, calmly.

“Please tell me it isn’t with my mind-controlled unconscious body,” begged Aizawa, “or the League of Villains.”

“It isn’t.”

Thank goodness.

“I’m fighting Hawks.”

Why.

No, ask questions later. The Problem Child needed help now. To fight the number two hero.

He didn’t know how knowledge about his quirk could be useful in a fight against Hawks, but the claim was far, far too stupid to be a lie.

“When I turn on my quirk, I—”

Blackwhip unfurled from his arms like a dark version of Shouji’s quirk, tearing his sleeves to shreds and dislodging the feathers that had been imbedded there. The ends wrapped around feather after feather, splitting into dozens and dozens of pseudo-arms. Izuku was amazed.

Someday, he would be able to do this on his own.

For now—

For now, he was fighting Hawks, who had trained since childhood to fight on behalf of the commission.

For now, he was a hero student, with only a few months of practical experience.

For now, he was a fugitive, on the run and desperate.

For now, he was host and member of One for All, and collectively they had been heroes for over a hundred years.

And Toshinori had his back.

They wrapped the silk tie around his knuckles. Any protection for the bones in his hands was valuable. In the other, they adjusted the briefcase. They had only rarely used weapons in the last hundred or so years. Usually, their quirks made weapons overkill.

But before that—Before that, things were different. For a while, One and Two had used swords, of all things.

This battle was much more even than it looked.

Their victory condition: Escape with Toshinori.

Their failure conditions: Civilian injury, serious injury to Izuku or Toshinori, or capture of either Izuku or Toshinori.

To avoid the first point of failure, it was best for them to get away from the vulnerable civilians. They didn’t want to give away float so soon in the game, so…

They grabbed the edge of a building with Blackwhip and launched Izuku upwards, flinging feathers away from him. Toshinori would follow and provide the group with a second perspective.

Hawks did not expect to be joined in the air. An incredulous smile graced his lips. Izuku smiled back and catapulted himself directly into Hawks.

“You know,” he said, “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile for real!”

“What?” asked Hawks, startled. He wasn’t one to have meaningful conversations with people he was supposed to bring in, but a statement like that had to be responded to.

Even if most of his attention was on the quirk that Midoriya controlled with much more proficiency than indicated by his school records. The kid was good, had good instincts when it came to battle, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to get past Hawks’s guard, or to really close the distance between them.

“Your smile!” said Midoriya. “When I was younger, I didn’t realize it, but once I knew the truth behind All Might’s smile, I understood!”

“Did you, now?” asked Hawks.

“Underneath,” said Midoriya, “your face is a lot like Todoroki’s! It’s—”

Conversation during a battle was usually a distraction, to the person employing it as a tactic as well as the target. Somehow, though, Midoriya was subverting that rule.

“It’s actually really sad!” exclaimed Midoriya, breathless, but apparently genuine, not mocking. “Who hurt you?”

“Heh,” said Hawks. This kid knew. How? “Shouldn’t I be the one asking questions here?”

“Gotta hand it to the commission, they really did a number on you,” said Midoriya, briefly touching down on a rooftop. “Why do you keep doing their dirty work for them?”

He was using that second quirk, but not his strength. Was it a matter of ‘won’t’ or ‘can’t?’ Either way, it was something to keep an eye on.

“Why don’t you—” Hawks briefly managed to pin Midoriya by the edge of his jacket, but the boy tore free easily. “—fly free?”

“You’re one to talk,” said Hawks. “What did you trade to All for One for those quirks?” He didn’t actually believe Midoriya was in league with All for One. Even tangentially, through proxies, they’d been at odds too many times, not to mention the videos he’d been shown by the commission of Midoriya and All Might interacting. The connection there couldn’t be faked.

He’d know. He’d tried so many times.

(Was trying now, with the League of Villains.)

(Midoriya wasn’t one of them.)

But he had a job to do.

Besides. Even he had to admit the commission had a point. The quirks had to come from somewhere.

(Just because Midoriya didn’t willingly associate with All for One didn’t mean he hadn’t been forced. Didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten out.)

(All Might was protecting him. How did they know each other?)

“Wouldn’t you take any hand offered to you if the person behind it offered to make you what you always wanted to be?”

Midoriya tilted his head to one side. “Nope!” he responded, cheerfully.

On the street below, Toshinori coughed, blood splattering his sleeve. What had Izuku been doing when he was younger, to get involved with so many dangerous and disturbing people?

It wasn’t my fault!

Kid really is a trouble magnet.

Oh, heck, I think I recognized that one—

Really, with that sharp mind, and Izuku’s propensity for both curiosity, helpfulness, and, well, finding trouble, it was a miracle he’d stayed alive for so long.

Wouldn’t call it a miracle, sonny—

HAHA I can’t believe he thought that was a dream.

In his defense, a dream makes more sense than—

Guys. Focus, please?

Yes. This was not the time to discuss… that. Now… Well. Toshinori had a role he could play in this battle, even as he was, and—

Hawks and Izuku’s path over the rooftops mapped itself out in his mind.

Oh, no.

Izuku wasn’t evading Hawks.

He was being herded by him.

They tucked and rolled across the pavement, Blackwhip cocooning them and breaking their fall. This was significantly more than what Five, what Daigoro, could use back when he was alive. It took everyone’s efforts to keep everything going.

Wait for it, they reminded themselves, bouncing back to Izuku’s feet.

Izuku looked up. This… was not a good position. Hawks had forced them into the entertainment district. They couldn’t trust that the fancy facades and art instalations of the buildings would hold up to Blackwhip. Not to mention, in places like this… He glanced around.

Fourth Kind.

Kesagiriman.

Slugger.

Death Arms.

There would be more, soon. This was… less than good. Maybe they should just grab Toshinori’s body and launch themselves with Blackwhip and Float, as far as they could. They’d lose a lot of their advantage on Hawks, but at least then they wouldn’t be fighting five different heroes.

Izuku gritted his teeth in something like a smile. Five different heroes. Well. Nine on five wasn’t bad odds.

Suzuku pulled himself along the ground, trembling. He had been falling for—for ages by the time that witch woman had disappeared. Why she had disappeared, he couldn’t guess, but…

Falling.

So much falling.

And hitting the ground again, and again, and again.

You invaded our minds, said the woman, don’t complain when we counter with something psychological as well.

Something like a laugh bubbled up from his throat.

You can leave whenever you want, can’t you?

He’d show her. He’d show her and find all her secrets. Just see if he didn’t.

Fourth Kind, Kesagiriman, Slugger, and Death Arms all had very physical, straightforward quirks. Out of all of them, though, Death Arms was probably the most problematic, followed by Slugger and his long-range attacks.

None of them held a candle to Hawks, of course. Which was the reason why Death Arms in particular was so problematic.

In order to deal with Hawks’s feathers, they needed Blackwhip. But using Blackwhip and One for All’s signature superstrength at the same time wasn’t something Izuku’s body was used to. They were limiting it to small bursts. Death Arms’ own physical enhancement quirk, while miniscule compared to One for All’s current stature, was nothing to sneer at.

If Death Arms—or any of the other heroes—landed a solid blow, that could be it for Izuku.

They refused to be locked away again.

That’s when it happened.

A scene played across Izuku’s inner eye:

A frosty morning. A little boy with dark hair. A farewell. Tears.

He flubbed the landing and a sharp pain lanced through his ankle. Blackwhip wrapped it, giving it much needed support.

He started to rise, only to drop to avoid one of Slugger’s patented Home Run Pitches (tm).

The ball spun, ricocheting off the stainless steel of an art installation before drilling right through a wooden beam on a bit of scaffolding holding up part of a building that was being refurbished. Izuku let out a breath of relief (there were still people around who hadn’t learned how to run away from a dangerous fight) before they returned to the dance with Hawks’s impressively huge number of feathers.

Blackwhip could keep up with them, barely, but Izuku was tiring. He couldn’t take much more of this.

He needed an opening to get to Toshi—

Another scene:

She couldn’t be pregnant. Not now. Not right after giving away another. The next time Sorahiko suggested drowning her troubles in sake, she was going to shove it straight up his blowholes, no matter that he was probably just as drunk as she was.

This slip almost resulted in Izuku getting his face punched in by Death Arms. Considering what he’d just learned, he’d almost welcome that fate, if it made him forget. Plus, it might have been funny for the ultimate battle of ultimate destiny, the show down between One for All and All for One, to take place between not one, but two potato-headed individuals—

There was a sharp crack from above as the damage Death Arms had done to the scaffolding made itself known.

Izuku didn’t have to think before moving.

“Alright,” said Midoriya. “I think I’ve got it. Thank you, sensei.” He looked young, now. Barely primary school age.

“I’d feel a lot better,” said Aizawa, “if I knew what you needed this information for.”

“Oh! That’s simple. You see, it’s my theory that the overlap in mechanisms between my quirk and Saito-san’s might allow for interesting emergent behaviors. Specifically, her quirk bridges a gap I’d normally have no way of crossing, although there’s certainly drawbacks. It’s like what we tried earlier, when I asked you to use your quirk. Although, I am hoping for different results than what I was looking for back then. I think, with what you’ve given me, and this processing time… Yes, this should work.” He clenched a fist. “These remnants—I can use them!”

Remnants. Vestiges.

Aizawa frowned. Something… something wasn’t right, here. The explanation Six had given them…

“Just keep going this way, for now. Six will try to get back to you as soon as possible. I have to go now! I love you guys!”

He then faded out. While waving.

“Wow,” said Uraraka. “Izuku-kun sure was a cute kid.”

Aizawa couldn’t argue with that.

“Aizawa-sensei,” said Todoroki. “You’re blushing.”

He wouldn’t lower himself to argue with that. “This conversation is illogical. Let’s go.”

“Sensei is weak to little kids,” observed Todoroki.

And if they ever discovered they could remove the ‘little’ in that sentence and have it still be accurate, he’d never live it down.

Hawks saw the eyes first, shining through the dust like two perfect green coins. Then every one of his feathers went dead, and he started to fall.

Sensation returned just in time for him to avoid hitting the ground at speed and, just as quickly, vanished again.

A breeze blew cleared the dust away.

Midoriya Izuku stood under the collapsed scaffolding, holding it up with black tendrils and sparking green arms. If this scene had been all that there was, an observer might be forgiven for wondering why he was holding up the scaffolding like that.

But Hawks knew. If Midoriya hadn’t caught the scaffolding, even he wouldn’t have been able to get those civilians out from underneath it in time. He glanced to the side, where the almost victims were standing up. Normally, he’d just trust his feathers, but…

“Is that Eraserhead’s quirk?”

“Don’t worry, I asked Eraserhead-sensei for permission, first.”

“What kind of monster—” started Death Arms.

“Don’t you dare, Mister ‘my quirk isn’t suitable.’” Midoriya shifted the scaffolding to one side and shrugged himself out from underneath it. “As heroes, aren’t you supposed to consider the civilians around you?” He laughed. “I guess we’re still a little bitter about that.”

Izuku was putting on a good show, but he was reaching the end of his endurance. Plus, he could already hear the sirens of police cars and the exclamations that followed large groups of heroes on the move.

Good thing, then, that Toshinori was about to round the corner in three… two… one… There!

To an outsider, Blackwhip wrapping around Toshinori probably looked violent. In reality, everyone operating the quirk was intimately aware of everything wrong with Toshinori’s body and did not want to add to his problems. They could have probably grabbed an egg like this.

Grabbing the newly-exposed concrete and rebar of the building behind Izuku, they launched themselves up. At the top of their arc, they activated Float. Blackwhip reeled Toshinori in, and they held onto each other as Izuku prepared to use air pressure to launch themselves forward.

He hadn’t blinked yet.

His eyes really hurt.

(And so did everything else.)

He aimed and kicked against the air, sending them soaring away.

They had escaped.

Tomura ducked behind the wall at the top of the building, glad that his party had put so many points into stealth, because he was not touching what had just happened with a ten-foot pole. He’d rather be shot again. He’d rather fight Machia for a week straight with no rest breaks. He’d rather listen to Sensei try to give him the birds and the bees talk.

What was that? Huh? What kind of a broken character build allowed for that kind of combat ability? The mods had to be asleep. If he were in charge, he’d nerf it, pronto.

That was a lie. He’d take it for himself.

Still.

“Uh, Shigaraki? Boss man? You okay there?” asked Spinner.

“No,” decided Shigaraki.

Suddenly, making all of them jump, Toga squealed. “Did you see him? Did you see Izuku-kun? He was so cute with his nose bleeding like that!”

“Hey,” said Dabi, “are we going after the green kid or what?”

“No,” decided Shigaraki, for the second time in as many minutes. And then, “Gimme the phone. We need to call the doctor to get us out of here.”

They did, but that was pretty much secondary to his primary objective, which was to cuss out the doctor concerning the cursed knowledge that was currently trying to escape his skull with a pickaxe.

“Um,” said Inko. “Aren’t you going to get that?” She pointed at the phone that had been buzzing on the table for the past several minutes.

“No,” said Garaki, pretending to sip at his tea. “You were saying?”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #fic #fanfic #long night in the valley

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paracosmic-gt · 5 years ago

Text

Prompt 39 - Solution

"I'll do it. It's the only way."

The effect on Jewel was immediate, the Anhemite straightening up as she moved to grab Seto by the shoulders and shake her head at the Japanese man. He wouldn't be the one to hurt himself, not in that way, not forever.

"No. I can't let you."

"But Jewel, I should be the one sacrificing something." He retorted, gently pushing her hands away to hold between his own, feeling cold scales warm beneath the heat of his palms. "After all I've done to you, I can't ask for something so permanent."

Permanent.

It would be permanent, sometimes Jewel forgot that fact, the one that made her heart ache. To obey the Rican district law and legally care for a wanted human as their son, one of them would need to give up their whole life. Their job, their perspective, and, to be frank, their privilege.

They’d need to become human.

They'd both frozen when they heard it at the interview, that to legally adopt a human, one of them would have to be under 6 foot 6 inches in height and able to interact with the human only districts in the town. There were quite a few, in fact, bordering the mixed areas while there were none close to the places with amenities for only giants, but being giants, neither Seto nor Jewel could get into them. Which meant Gabriel couldn't legally be theirs.

They'd walked out with grim expressions, looking to each other and wondering if the little boy from Terra was destined for a proper family. But now, the real argument was brought up. Because they both wanted a child they couldn't have together, but being a sorcerer meant there were loopholes Seto was willing to utilise.

"I-I can't. It's a trigger, this isn't good for your health."

"I know you won't." The younger man said, turning away from her and letting his hands drop. Jewel had been adamant that maybe this wasn't the best idea, maybe a giant child would be better for them to raise in a giant's household, but Seto refused. And the Anhemite could understand why; she'd seen the emotional connection he'd made with the little boy that clutched onto his fingertip like it was his mother's arm. The forbidden desire to care for him, raise him safely and like Teresa Knight would have wanted.

"Seto, I- you can't say that. You don't know, people can change..." The alien whispered, sighing as she hugged the man standing rigid against the bench and kissed him goodnight, feeling his arms soften at the action so alien coming from her. Seto whispered a goodnight into her ear and released her from his embrace, watching the only other giant in the small apartment move into the very next room to sleep.

'People can change, doesn't mean they will.' Seto found himself thinking, as he stepped into the bathroom to brush up for sleep.

That night, the evening of the interview, was two weeks ago. A week of discussion, tension, and snapped comments yet to be apologised for, then a week of 'taking their minds off it', had steered Jewel in the right direction, and that was to the door of a certain Fawn. The first visit conceded an agreement, that the Anhemite would take a potion to assist in the preparation for shrinking to the desired size, one that enhanced her strength so a jump in size wouldn't damage her in any way.

Eridan wasn't surprised to see his brother's wife, his sister-in-law, turn up at the small home that he had made his own ever since Terra had become much too terrifying to live in. She always visited with the brown-haired sorcerer he'd known from a child, but he knew why she'd trekked here in the rain a second time. And it wasn't just for a friendly chat, the second visit was going to be the last time she'd speak to Eridan as a giant.

Jewel was shrinking.

"You must be frozen, come in, come in."

Inviting her inside, he offered a drink, politely refused as the Anhemite sat down in one of the chairs he'd modified to suit his lower half. Her psyche roiled with anxiety, fear, and the slightest sprinkle of determination, and it wasn't long until those flattened pupils fixated on the darkened room behind him.

"I'm ready, Eridan. I'll have as much as I need until the end of this year." Jewel followed Eridan's instructions, entering the room to sit within a circle engraved on stone and chewing on a strip of willow bark to reduce anxiety and stress, all with an ever-steady trust in his craft. This wasn't her first time in a sorcerer's den.

"Human children need their mothers for many years, are you sure about this?"

"I'll rear the child until he can survive without me guiding him, then I'll return and switch if need be."

The Fawn acknowledged her firm nod and continued with his preparations, ears held still against his head as he collected the potion, unclipping it from its clawed base and flipping the top to take a sniff. The needed ingredients were diced and added, and with another sniff, Jewel was allowed to take the intricate vial between her thumb and forefinger.

"Sizeshifting can be dangerous for your health. Don't undertake two doses in one day or something might go wrong with the elderthrit, that's one of the active ingredients."

Eridan said, speaking clearly as he perched on his hooves before her, gesturing to the second bottle.

"For those times when you need to be small, give a day to cool off before administering growth."

"I will."

"Now, here we go. No turning back, take it at once, please."

"Of course. For our family."

...

...ewel?

...re you...kay?

Eridan brushed his thumb over the Anhemite's forehead, watching her slowly regain consciousness before those eyes opened, her whole body stiffening to the point where the muscles in her arms cramped. She wasn't one to visibly panic when the time came to, so for now, she just stared up and tried to comprehend Eridan's mass, glancing to the finger resting dangerously close to her neck. Seeing the visible fingerprint in the skin as small grooves that removed any sense of his hand being soft again. Feeling its heat, radiating off every part of him, blowing out of his nose as he exhaled like a steam-breathing monster, making her scales feel absolutely /freezing/ in comparison.

Comparison. Like she could ever be compared to him again...or Seto for that matter.

The Fawn loomed overhead, wide eyes Jewel could see every detail of seeming only centimetres away due to the fact they filled her entire plain of vision, short lashes she'd never noticed before, the kindly face put under a magnifying glass to expose little details that could no longer be called little. Strands of his blonde hair thick enough to grab, the texture of Eridan's skin, the hidden flickers of gold tucked into the grey eyes that now had /visible layers of muscle./

It was too much; too much of /him/, too little of /her/, and not enough space between their vastly different bodies to let her process what she'd just done to herself.

"Uh...Eri...dan?" Jewel croaked from a throat burning with the leftovers of his potion.

"Yes, Jewel?"

She couldn't help glancing down to watch his mouth

"Can you...move...move back? You're..."

"Too /close/."

The fawn completed her sentence, except with his words sounding otherworldly due to the fact they resounded without trying to.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure Seto will be better with you in this fragile time."

The Anhemite couldn't help her heart jumping to her throat thinking of Seto, words sticking as she mentally replaced the form, still looming over her despite backing away, with her husband. She began to hum in panic as she regained control of slow limbs and tried to physically push herself away from the thought; Seto wasn't going to be that big, wasn't going to be the only one who'd be able to wear her wedding band, wasn't going to be giant.

"Jewel,"

"Th-This was a bad idea, Eridan." Jewel pleaded, hoping to find solace only to feel another wave of insignificance as he hadn't realised she was speaking to him, her voice too quiet and his easily overpowering it.

"I can't...I-I...I can't do this!"

The Fawn fell quiet, calculating eyes falling over her as the minute features of his concentrated expression shift and loosen to form one of concern. A hand reaches to comfort, perhaps to hold her own or even to make contact with the shivering woman, but it's dismissed with a scared glare.

Oh no...

What could he say? How could he calm her down enough to not act like this before his brother, the person who'll want to hold her close and help her only to be completely unable to. Eridan wasn't letting that happen.

As hard as it was, he got down on his hands and knees, hooves still touching the ground before he lowered completely onto his stomach and tucked his hands respectfully beneath his chin.

"I know you're scared. But none of us want to hurt you."

"I know that." Jewel softly hiccupped, trying to tone her voice up but only succeeding in her sounding like a scared child. "I know you'd never do anything to me."

Eridan waited until she was finished this time before he began to speak, head bobbing as he kept his chin firmly pressed into his hands.

"Sparrow will understand, he'll respect your need to have space until you adjust.

"You did this for him after all."

Jewel blinked at the statement, remembering Teresa, the son cupped in Seto's hands, their small fights about the matter. His determination to be the one to shrink.

Her acceptance and willingness to give this up for them; Gabriel and Seto.

"I did this...for our family, Eridan." She corrected, finding the ability to curl up slightly and look up to her brother-in-law's looming grey eyes. Only a few feet above her head yet she had to crane her neck.

"Noted. /I/ just need to make sure you can do everything you're supposed to before we go see Sparrow."

The Anhemite couldn't help searching for a sinister meaning behind the cryptic sounding words that warped the very air around her. "What do you... mean?"

"Stand up for me, please.

The momentary hesitation on Jewel's part from a small movement of Eridan's hand had the Fawn nervous, but he pulled a kind expression quite easily as he shifts the limb backwards and closer to the other.

Slow motions. Focus on her.

"I just want to make it easier, should I need to catch you."

---

Sparrow = Seto

[This is a canon story]

I may or may not have a follow-up story depending on if I write it or not (duh) as a further prompt since this is part of my 100 G/T Prompt Challenge which I’m doing in order over on my Wattpad.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/99053641-varying-perspectives-g-t-oneshots

It /would/ be very adorable, since Seto seeing Jewel at that size would be a total surprise as well as a sacrifice he /must honour/ with hugs and presents.

Both pieces of art are mine, sketched on my phone. They came out surprisingly well for something meant to be transferred to my iPad, and I think they’re better like this.

Bye for now!

#story #mywriting #male giant #female tiny #myart #100 gt prompts #canon

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thequietmanno1 · 5 years ago

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Thelreads, MHA 156, Replies part 4

As for Eri Rewinding Midoria when he grabs her- honestly whilst that’s a problem, it’ll probably be more of a benefit that anything depending on how much he’s rewound- now he’s got more of a handle on how to use his quirk from the begining, losing some of the damage he’s done to himself along the way wouldn’t be amiss- he could certainly do with getting rewound to prior to his Fight with Muscular, or heck, even before his bout with Todoroki in the sports festival. Only problem with that would then be that he’s potentially getting close to being rewound to before he gained the body necessary to handle OFA, and if he’s pulled out too late, he’ll be to weak to even handle 5% against Overhaul anymore.

On that note, I’ve often wondered exactly how Izuku would be affected by getting hit by one of the erasure bullets himself. From what I understand, Overhaul was able to ‘focus’ the quirk towards targeting the specific quirk factor/DNA strains in ‘normal’ humans in the MHA verse, but Deku wasn’t born with those specific DNA strains. His unique method of gaining this quirk may make him immune to the injector methods of the Erazure bullets, especially since the quirk itself is somehow passed on through DNA consumption/absorption- meaning it somehow passes on from person to person without needing their bodies pre-designed to handle the power, thus it may not use the same quirk factors that the others have to grant the power. Aizawa can shut it off because it’s still ultimately an activator quirk, but it was specified during the briefing that Overhaul had modified the bullets to achieve a similar, but ultimately different effect that Aizawa’s, so if the bullet targets a specific function within Deku than doesn’t actually exist, then it would render the bullet technically a dud.

If that’s the case, then there’s a massive case of Dramatic Irony here- if Deku was the one that fought Overhaul to save Eri and took the shot instead, it may have actually done nothing to him and wasted the bullet, so right now, Overhaul may be fighting the only person in the world immune to his bullets, though Deku’s not in the mood to test that theory out and Overhaul has neither the means nor the inclination to waste more bullets. Granted, the whole rewind aspect can still effect Deku in other ways. Even if he’s immune to the targeted erasure of the bullets, Deku could still be affected by Eri’s uncontrolled rewinding, which is more dangerous to his quirk than him getting rewound out of existence with it- Izuku only gain the quirk recently, so if Eri rewinds him back a year, that could completely leave Deku quirk less again, perhaps permanent erasing the power of the Symbol of Peace in the process even if he’s left alive.

On the other hand, we don’t actually know what the long-term result of someone getting hit with the bullets is. If a person is rewound into the negative years they’re dead, because they no longer exist, but given how mysterious the functions and creation of quirks and quirk factors within the body are, it’s possible the quirks could come back on their own naturally over time. The quirks don’t become active until someone hits 4 years old, so they suddenly spring into existence one day to the surprise of their wielders. Perhaps getting the quirk factor rewound just means that it’s be reset into a new-born quirk factor, one that won’t activate until the host is 4 years old-according to whatever special clock the quirk words by to know when the time is right to activate.

If that’s true, Miro’s quirk isn’t gone, it’s just been de-aged to the point that it’s been pulled out of synch with himself- whilst his body is a young teen, the quirk might think he’s a new-born baby, and thus 4 years later it may return on it’s own, but with lemillion having an older body compared to when he first got it. Thus, Deku might only temporarily lose OFA until whatever rewinding timeframe he’s undergone had been ‘reset’ to the point he got the quirk again, but on the other hand, given how OFA was an accumulator type power, rewinding it may permanently erase all the stored power and reset it back to level one from the beginning.

Additionally, I wonder how it would affect mutation-type quirks- if their bodies were born different then the erasure bullets may have a different effect on them as opposed to activator- though granted we’ve not seen what a mutation-type looks like as a new-born, so one day they could suddenly and permanently mutate into a new body, but if they’re born looking that way, then instead it could cause permanent nerve damage to the target. Going by Aizawa’s hypothetical explanation using Ojiro’s quirk, it would render his tail a technically lifeless lump of dead flesh handing off him, unresponsive to his movements, and potentially needing amputated.

If the temporarily rewinding aspect if true, however, that would mean Overhaul’s plans were a huge waste of time for him, since all he’s doing to forcing people to go Quirkless for 4 years, and his dream of ‘rewinding’ the world back to before the madness of heroes and villains infected it was a pipe dream from the start.

@thelreads @makeste

#bhna #thelreads #MHA 156 #chapter replies #my hero academia

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 5 years ago

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Their Hero Academia – Chapter 38: The Sports Festival Part 11: End Credits

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Katsumi stared dumbly at the scene before them, several long seconds passing before she’s able to process what she’s seen, even with the rest of her class going wild around her. Going wild might actually have been putting it mildly. Especially where Loud Kid was concerned. She’d be surprised if Bird Girl, sitting next to him, didn’t have some hearing damage after they’d watched Toshi and the Newb fight.

Toshi and the Moth Girl in third (and the memory of the Moth Girl kicking the crap out of Shiro Monoma was something she was really going to savor), the Horse Girl in second, and the Newb in first place. What was the world coming to?!

She would, if forced to admit it, confess that the Newb had actually fought hard. He’d gone full out using his Quirk, never hesitating, even against Izzy, which was something she’d struggled with. Katsuimi hated to admit it, but she’d probably have been hard pressed to defend against his speed and range. The Horse Girl, though, she couldn’t believe she’d made it that far. Especially since she’d won her first match by pissing off her opponent. It wasn’t a completely unviable strategy, but the way she’d gone about it just made Katsumi’s skin crawl.

“Quite the sweep for our class, isn’t it?” Izzy asked.

Katsumi nodded. “You sorry it ain’t you down there? You nearly beat the Newb and I know you coulda taken Horse Girl and Moth Girl. Probably Toshi too.”

Izzy smiled and just shook her head. “Perhaps. I pushed myself harder than I ever had before and did not completely succumb. I am quite happy with that.” She gave Katsuki a playful nudge. “As for winning against them, it is difficult to say, though not completely unlikely. I did beat you, after all.”

Katsumi stared at her for a moment, then broke into a laugh. “That sense of humor you’re developing needs some work, Izz. That definitely wasn’t funny.”

“It was a little funny,” Izzy said.

“It was a little funny,” Katsumi conceded.

Izzy regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “And what about you? I was your first opponent and I defeated you. Do you regret that you did not make it farther?”

Izzy always was one for the hard hitting questions. She knew how much winning in general meant to Katsumi and knew that she’d been the direct cause of her loss. It wasn’t an apology—Katsumi neither expected nor wanted one—but it was an acknowledgement of what had happened.

“I ain’t embarrassed I lost, if that’s what you’re asking,” Katsumi replied. She ran her left thumb over the knuckles of her right hand, still sore from where she’d punched Izzy’s ice wall. “Considering I was going to throw it all away before you talked me into fighting, I’m happy to have made any kind of mark at all. Can’t even say I’m disappointed. You put up one hell of a fight. Just… motivated for the next time around.”

Izzy seemed satisfied with that and nodded. “Of course, you do realize I will be equally motivated.”

A smile worked its way across Katsumi’s face. “Then we’ll just have to get stronger together, won’t we?”

Another nod. “And then I can look forward to kicking your ass again.”

Katsumi felt her eyes go wide. “Who the hell’s been coaching you in telling jokes? Is it Sparky and Horse Girl? Or Ghosty and her gang of idiots?”

Izzy looked confused, exaggerated, faked confusion. “Joke?”

“I really gotta stop underestimating you.”

***

On the third place platform, Toshi gave Kocho a reassuring grin. The moth-girl from General Studies seemed down, even though she’d placed. He could understand that, he supposed. The General Studies students who made it to the Tournament always fought hard and any defeat had to be heartbreaking. But she should have been proud of her accomplishments too.

“You did great,” he said. “Almost a new record. Except for that one year, you did better than anyone else in General Studies.”

She did smile a little bit. “I know,” she said. “Keep telling myself that. Still…”

“You really wanted to win,” Toshi said.

“I really wanted to win,” she agreed.

“Always next year,” he said. The competition in the Second Year Sports Festival was way more intense than the First Year. It was extremely uncommon for anyone outside of the Hero Courses to get past the first stage, let alone place. But considering how well she’d done…

“Maybe,” Kocho said. “Think I impressed anyone enough?”

“Could be?” Toshi replied, which wasn’t nearly as reassuring as he’d hoped he’d be. “I could quote you all kinds of statistics, talk about the people who’ve made the jump over the years, but really, it all really depends on what the teachers and staff see in you. But you fought hard. Smart too. I’m rooting for you!”

That did get another small smile out of her. Maybe that was enough. Not exactly the heroic victory Toshi had been hoping for, but he’d done what he could.

“All right, folks, let’s give a big hand to our winners! And here to present their medals, former Number One Hero, All Might!”

Grandpa Might’s entrances weren’t quite as dramatic as they might have been in the old days, and he was no longer quite as muscular as he had once been (though far more healthy than he had been prior to Aunt Eri restoring his health) but he was still a large, fit man, and today he wore a version of his old blue, red, white, and yellow costume, tailored to fit. His trademark smile was on his face and Toshi could easily tell it reached his eyes. In point of fact, Grandpa Might seemed to be practically vibrating with excitement and grandfatherly pride.

“In Third Place,” Present Mic announced, “Koharu Kocho and Toshinori Midoriya!”

Grandpa Might took a moment to steady himself before he approached the platform, first slipping a Bronze Medal over Kocho’s head. “Young Kocho,” Grandpa Might said, “you showed significant skill and courage today. A credit to yourself and your class.”

His grin grew broader and he embraced her, causing her dark eyes to go wide with surprise. Grandpa Might was still an incredibly affectionate man. “I think we’ll be seeing great things from you,” he told her.

Grandpa Might turned his attention to Toshi. “And Young Grandson!” Toshi thought his face was going to split wide open from the grin. “Your grandmother and I could not be prouder of you! You’ve done us all proud! Your dedication to your classmates, your dedication to going Plus Ultra… You are an example to us all!”

Toshi was pretty sure Grandpa Might was going to cry, but he held it in as he placed the medal over Toshi’s head, then hugged him tight.

“Grandpa… Might…” Toshi squeaked. “Can’t… breathe…!”

Grandpa Might released him quickly, then rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Ah, sorry, sorry!” he babbled. “I got a bit carried away there!”

“All right! Let’s give another round of applause for our Third Place finishers!” Present Mic announced and the crowd went wild.

“They’re cheering,” Kocho said, eyes wide with wonder. “They’re really cheering… for me…?”

“For you,” Toshi assured her. “For both of us. People love a winner, one way or the other.”

He knew he had a lot to live up to. His grandfather was one of the greatest Heroes of all time. His dad was well on his way to matching that, if he hadn’t already. His mom was an incredible Hero in her own right. Grandma Inko, Grandma Yua, and Grandpa Hideki were all incredible people too. It would take a long time for him to reach their levels. But today felt like a pretty good start.

***

On the Third Place platform, Midoriya and Kocho looked proud and pensive, respectfully. Up on the First Place platform, Haimawari looked nervous as hell, shaking like a leaf, an expression of confused awe on his face. As for Mika…

Finally, she thought, the respect I so clearly deserve.

She already knew what her classmates thought of her. Oh, for sure, Chihiro and Akaya were her friends, and so were many of the students in 1-B, like Kana, Anime, and Shiro. But she also knew that people like Aoyama and Shoji dismissed her as trouble and that Kirishima-Bakugo threatened her with violence on a regular basis. Mika was even well aware of the fact that most of the school considered her to be a perverted joke. Word got around, after all. And she would proudly embrace “pervert.” But joke? Never.

Maybe, just maybe, a few more people would start taking her more seriously after this. Of course, if that meant she had to actually start acting more seriously, than forget it. There were too many super attractive people in this school to give up on trying to get with as many of them as she possibly could before graduation (This would probably one day include sex, but for right now, she’s settle for making out and some fondling. Her or them. She wasn’t picky.).

Hell, she’d be surprised if she didn’t have a dozen plus new admirers after today. Nothing sexier than a girl who could kick ass. She should probably send the vampire girl, Kan, a gift basket or something though. She’d gotten the better of her through the utmost use of her provocation skills. That was rough. She’d do it again in a heartbeat, and it would probably be great against villains, but she also might well have cost Kan some internship opportunities by making her lose her cool like that.

Blood oranges, maybe? Or was that too much of a joke?

She was also, if truth be told, more than a little worried about the possibility that Daddy had seen way too much of her fights, especially her first one. It might have finally irrevocability shattered his perception of her as his innocent little girl. He was supposed to be working today, but if he saw the highlights or something…

He might also try to kill Haimawari. He’d gotten to full on second base with that last “shove” that had sent her out of the ring. Which would be a shame, to kill somebody with an ass like that. Of course, Kana was interested in him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look at the menu.

“And in second place,” came the voice of Present Mic, “Mika Mineta!”

“Young Mineta,” All Might said, as he approached. He seemed to be weighing his next words carefully. Probably trying to decide whether or not to lecture her. Adults did that a lot. “You utilized all the skills at your disposal, even if some of them were rather… unconventional. Take pride in that! A Hero must be willing to use all their skills, no matter how diverse! Still, a Hero must also be mindful of their image as well! It is a balancing act.”

With that, he slipped the Silver Medal over her head, deftly managing not to get it tangled in her horns, which was an impressive feet. After that, he gave her a brief hug.

As the crowd applauded again, Mika grinned. Second Place. Not bad, not bad at all. And Kirishima-Bakugo was sure to be furious about it… which made it all the sweeter.

***

First Place. He’d won the Sports Festival. He’d won fights against people demonstrably more powerful than him, like Izumi and Midoriya. All this time, ever since he’d gotten his acceptance letter, Isamu had questioned whether or not he had what it took to be a Hero, whether or not he even belonged in U.A. When he’d found out he was in a class with nothing but the children of Pro-Heroes, several of them the children of Top Ten Heroes, that feeling of unworthiness had only sunk in further.

But since coming to U.A., he’d made friends, learned new skills, and pushed himself harder than he’d ever pushed before. Midoriya, Izumi, Shota… all his friends believed in him. And not one of them had treated him like he wasn’t worthy of a place at U.A., no matter his pedigree.

And now he’d won the whole damn Sports Festival. And for once, he actually believed that it was really happening to him and wasn’t just part of his coma dream theory. When they were gathering them up for the closing ceremony, he’d briefly mentioned to Midoriya that he couldn’t believe he’d made it this far. But then Midoriya had something that had really stuck with him, crashed right through the self-deprecating cloud he’d been living in.

Midoriya had said that he had to believe it, or else he was just making the efforts of everybody who’d been competing and fighting against him worthless. He’d said that they deserved to have their efforts recognized, not just dismissed as some kind of dream. It was about respect, Midoriya had told him.

And Isamu had realized he was right. He’d been so caught up with his own issues, that he hadn’t stopped to think about how that might have been framing everyone else’s efforts. He respected all of them—even Mineta—too much to do that.

“And now,” Present Mic announced, “your First Place finisher and new Sports Festival Champion… Isamu Haimawari!”

And then there was All Might before him, Gold Medal in hand. He’d almost gotten used to having one of the greatest Heroes in the world as his teacher, but had not had a lot of close-up, one-on-one time with the man. He’s not intimidated, not exactly, the man’s too friendly, too smiley, to really be intimidating. But All Might is still an incredible presence, a reminder of how far he has to go and what he might someday be.

“Young Haimawari,” All Might intoned, giving him that famous grin. “Today, you displayed amazing skill and ability. You’ve taken a major step on the road to becoming a Hero! Whatever doubts you may have, know that while your doubts keep you humble, they can also hold you back. Use this victory as your springboard to self-confidence! And know that we are all quite proud of you!”

With that, he slipped the medal over Isamu’s head, then hugged him. Isamu was taller than average, but All Might dwarfed him easily, leaving his head pressed against the man’s muscles. Fortunately, he survived the hug with nothing crushed.

His parents believed in him. His friends believed in him. All Might, the greatest Hero of any generation, believed in him.

Maybe Midoriya was right. The time for moping and self-doubt was over. He’d earned this. He could take pride in it. He could use this to motivate himself, to be the best that he could be. His confidence issues weren’t going anywhere any time soon. But he also felt more at ease than he had in a long time. A competition stocked to the gills with the children of Pro Heroes and the winner was him. As far as the public knew, a total newcomer to the Hero scene, and known only to him, the son of two very skilled, though long-retired Vigilantes. Mister Aizawa had been right… this truly was anyone’s game.

And it was his.

“And that’s our winner, folks! Let’s show all our winners, and all our competitors, just how much we appreciate all of them! They all went beyond! PLUSSSSSSSS ULTRAAAAA!”

“Hn. Do you have to yell so loud? You’ve already got the microphone.”

***

With two days off before they had to be back in class and permission to go home, Isamu walked the streets of Naruhata for the first time since he’d started U.A. The moment he’d stepped off the train, he’d felt more relaxed. This was his home turf, the place where he belonged.

People on the train had recognized him as the guy who’d won the Sports Festival. He’d had total strangers congratulating him and more than a few teenage girls trying to flirt with him. That had been a little awkward. But he’d managed.

Now, back in his own neighborhood, it was familiar faces that congratulated him, names that came easily to his lips. And finally, his steps carried him to what he always considered sacred ground, The Nice Guy Convenience Store, the convenience store owned by his father, Koichi Haimawari. It was the place where he offered up convenient foods and goods at reasonable prices, but also where he held court and listened to the problems of the people in the neighborhood. That Dad had been the Vigilante known as the Crawler was an open secret here, and the people of Naruhata looked after their own and kept it from outside ears and eyes. But if you had a problem, then it was well known the elder Haimawari would do everything in his power to help you. He’d made a lot of friends over the years, knew the right calls to make, the right favors to call on. Even though he had long been sidelined from being a Vigilante, he was still helping people.

Helping people, he had taught Isamu, was the absolute best thing a person could do in this world, Hero or not.

Isamu stepped towards the store, the automatic doors parting for him with a small whoosh. “He is the man who won the Sports Festival!” came a voice from the counter. “My son!”

He felt his face redden. “Daaaad,” Isamu wailed. “You’re being all dramatic again.”

Dad stepped out from around the counter, slow, careful steps that kept him from aggravating his bad leg. “Can’t blame a dad for being proud, kid.”

“Give your old man a break,” another voice said, gruff and growly, but warm and touched with pride of its own.

A second voice, tense and reedy, added, “He’s had the Sports Festival on all day. Been glued to the highlights and post-game ever since.”

The voices in question belonged to a short, stocky man with thick muttonchops and hair that came to a point, and to a tall, slim man wearing red-tinged glasses. They were as familiar a sight to Isamu as anyone, longtime friends of the family from his parents Vigilante days.

“Uncle Jube! Uncle Ichimoku! I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

Uncle Jube laughed at that. “Wouldn’t have missed it, kid. Besides, somebody had to keep any eye on the place while your old man was glued to the TV.”

Uncle Ichimoku pushed his glasses up on his nose. “You did great, Isamu. Fushichou said to tell you she’s proud of you.”

Fushichou was Uncle Ichimoku’s daughter, with a telekinetic Quirk. Together with Uncle Jube’s daughter Mujina, who had a Quirk that gave her double-wooden knives in her hands, they too were familiar and friendly presences in his life, despite being several years older than him. He’d harbored a bit of a crush on Mujina at one point, actually. They’d both gone to other Hero schools, but had encouraged him to try out for U.A.

He was glad he’d listened.

“Where’s Mom?” he asked.

“If I know your mother, she’s already put together a surprise party for you,” Dad said. He hesitated, then added, “…Well, she’s probably gone out and picked up a cake. …She’s probably raided the freezer for ice cream. …If we leave now, there might still be some for us.”

Isamu had to laugh at that. It was certainly an accurate description of his mom. Planning and organization were not exactly her strong suits. Her desk in her office looked like a paper bomb had gone off in it and she was perpetually up against the wall on her deadlines.

“You okay closing up early?” he asked his dad.

“Sure,” Dad said. “Benefits of owning the place. People will understand.”

Dad gave him another look over, a faraway look in his eyes.

“You, ah, you okay, Dad?” he asked.

“Just… so proud of you,” Dad said. “I’m proud of the work me and your mom did. We helped a lot of people. Maybe even helped save the city once. Small works do wonders and I was proud to be a friendly neighborhood Vigilante. But you… you’re going to be truly spectacular, amazing, sensational… and a whole bunch of adjectives I haven’t even thought of yet.”

“Daaad,” Isamu wailed again. “Don’t be so mushy, okay?” But he was smiling.

Dad went on, “So. Any idea what Heroes might try scouting you?”

…He hadn’t thought about that!

#my hero academia #their hero academia #toshi midoriya #koichi haimawari #katsumi kirishima-bakugo #izumi todoroki #isamu haimawari

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jflashandclash · 6 years ago

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Traitors of Olympus IV: The Fall of the Sun

Forty-One: Hazel

When Your Mom Scolds the Hope Out of You

While Hazel rolled between the legs of two battling giants—Eris and some weird chicken-lizard thing—she stabbed a ghoul through the ribcage. She came to a stumbled stop at the horrifying sight of Melinoe and wished Nico was here to help her fight.

Of course, she also hoped he was safely away, somewhere that hadn’t been crushed by Python or raided by creepy sleep-walking puppets. But, really she would rather he was strong enough to stand with his Stygian iron sword and do some ghoul puppeting of his own. She’d never been as good at controlling the dead, and, if it were up to her, she’d have Miss Half-Mummy-Half-Charcoal doing the Charleston dance.

If this ghost was Melinoe.

“Poisoned child!” Queen Marie Levesque stood and screamed where the Goddess of Ghosts had been moments before. She stumbled towards Hazel with a knife.

Hazel almost dropped her spatha.

When Gaea manipulated her mother’s voice, Gaea slipped into her own gravelly tone. Here, this creature had the same look of anger, frustration, desperation, and disappointment so familiar to her mother. Here, Melinoe frowned and screamed identical to Queen Marie. Although Hazel hadn’t had one in so long, she thought she was lost in a flashback, one she’d deeply repressed. But, she couldn’t be. This was real.

While Queen Marie staggered forward with a knife, four other ghosts came closer in Hazel’s peripheral. In her shock, she probably would have been overwhelmed had a blast of water not slapped her in the face.

Confusion interrupted her terror.

When Hazel shook the droplets out of her cinnamon hair, she caught the distant glimpse of Percy. He had pulled Annabeth into his lap on the throne of Saturnalia and dragged Piper close—to protect them. One of his hands outstretched towards Hazel. Even from where she stood, she could tell his face was tight with rage as his mouth moved to shout. Tears streaked down his cheeks while he watched his home get ravaged.

Over that and the chaos, she couldn’t really hear Percy, but, she assumed he was saying, “THAT’S NOT YOUR MOTHER!” and not something about “boar smother.” Likely not the latter—though Phobetor did seem to enjoy morphing into a giant boar.

Ah, Hazel thought, Eris said Percy couldn’t fight her people. She didn’t say anything about slapping sense back into his friends.

A voice much louder and clearer, almost too high-pitched for comfortable listening, shrieked beside her, “Tiny child of Pluto, make like a dough lump and ROLL!”

Hazel dove to the side.

A giant combat boot with a talon poking out the back and several in the front smashed the ground she had been standing on. Marie Levesque had also dodged to the opposite side, but the four ghostly figures hadn’t moved. Three that should have been smashed instead dissipated and reemerged on either side of the foot. The one that got impaled by the ankle talon poofed, making Hazel wonder if that talon were coated with Stygian iron.

The giant eagle-snake raised its combat boot up, slammed it back down for better footing, and shoved Eris away from the strawberry field.

Hazel pushed off the icy dirt, snatching up her spatha. She wished Arion was here, so she could run away from her mother and reevaluate everything from a distance.

Now that she had broken her line of sight from Melinoe, her childhood terror quieted. She could focus enough to see five Romans and the counselor from Iris’ cabin in a small defensive circle around two downed bodies, one a centurion and one a soldier. They slashed through oncoming ghosts, but there weren’t enough of them to make a proper defensive circle. They wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, or keep the ghosts out of the camp.

From their other side, the God of Nightmares and his sleep-walking troop were about to flank them.

Hazel’s stomach twisted when she thought about what must have happened to Lou Ellen. The daughter of Hecate, who had promised Hazel that she could handle Phobetor alone, was nowhere to be seen. Hazel hadn’t considered that Lou Ellen might have been bluffing and was running low on spells. She had recently pigballed a god after all, and might have fallen easily after Hazel left.

Hazel would have to thank Percy for snapping her out of it later and the giant bird-thing for… warning her? First, she needed to bust these ghosts, defeat Melinoe, and wrangle Phobetor.

An army. Two gods. No biggy?

Hazel quivered.

Another troop of ghosts were almost upon her, carrying cleavers, pitchforks and a traffic cone. Marie Levesque—no-no—Melinoe stalked towards her.

Hazel reached a hand towards the sleep-walking campers that were about to attack Butch’s troop. A tug hit her gut. With a flick of her wrist, she disarmed the sleepwalkers. Their weapons spun from their grasps, whipping towards Hazel, until she redirected them to slam into the oncoming ghosts and Melinoe.

The ghosts shrieked and dissipated under the holy metal. Marie screamed and almost made Hazel freeze up again.

Her mother stood there, a scowl and wrinkles marring her beautiful face. She clutched where a celestial dagger had imbedded into her saffron robes. “Poisoned child!” she yelled. “Worthless. The main gift your father gave me, and it ended up being a worthless child that would kill her own mother twice!”

“No! You’re gone! You’re in the Fields of Asphodel!” Hazel choked back tears, struggling to remember that wasn’t her mother she just stabbed. Right? Melinoe couldn’t actually conjure her mother, could she? Hazel didn’t sense the Mist around her.

“And who put me there?!” Marie demanded.

Hazel stumbled backwards from the goddess, repositioning her spatha into a defensive stance. With her other hand, she battled with herself to maintain control on the floating celestial and imperial blades. The other ghosts she’d struck had dissipated. Marie had not, and Hazel wasn’t sure she could bring herself to attack her mother again. [1]

When she saw someone else help the Romans beyond them, Hazel’s tears turned to relief.

On Butch’s other side, an elephant stampeded the ghosts that were about to flank their allies. Her heart warmed to see Frank tossing the more corporeal ghouls left and right. Some sleep walkers even stirred as he and the giants’ steps made the earth shake. Maybe Phobetor was stretched too thin with keeping the Mist barrier down and controlling a sleep-walking army.

Seeing Frank gave her hope and reminded her not to listen to this wretched woman—this wretched goddess.

Butch and the others cheered at his presence.

The raging elephant morphed into a swarm of wasps—causing some not-so-sleepy sounding cries from the sleep walkers, now jumping awake in shock—then morphed into a gorilla mid-lunge at Phobetor.

The creepy minstrel raised his piccolo-hatchet to pipe in staccato.

The few sleepwalkers still asleep collapsed to the ground as—Hazel assumed in horror—Phobetor released them from his spell.

At the same time, the gorilla face-planted.

Frank morphed back into a human.

“Frank!” Hazel cried. She lost control of the imperial and celestial weapons. They cluttered to the strawberry field. Her hearted pounded inside her eardrums.

During the distraction, Hazel’s mother withdrew the blade in her stomach. She grinned maliciously and lunged at Hazel.

Hazel barely blocked the attack with her spatha and retreated. Nico had once said he’d met Melinoe, but wouldn’t talk about it beyond that. She understood why now. Hazel felt like she’d forgotten how to control the Mist, how to fight, and how to do anything more than be a scared child, split between watching her friends be attacked and defending herself. Where had this terror come from? How could it return so quickly?

“Cursed girl. Can’t save your friends. Can’t save your soldiers. Can’t save your love!” Marie Levesque screamed between attacks that Hazel could hardly counter. “All you do is bring misfortunate to everyone around you!”

Beyond the Goddess of Ghosts, Hazel saw Phobetor grin down at Frank. “Ah! This one shall do nicely!” he said before piping out a few notes.

Frank jerked to his feet, but his posture was off. Hazel knew his eyes would be closed.

The previously sleepwalking, now confused Greeks were defenseless when the ghosts turned to attack them. Hazel had taken away their weapons. They scrambled for a way to defend themselves and the Romans tried to join their rank.

This was too much. The undead army seemed never ending. Every one they took down, more shadows seemed to pour in. How many had snuck out from the Underworld? How many had used her brother like an EasyPass fast lane? How long before her friends fell to panic and exhaustion?

Hazel needed to save the camp and all of her friends. She’d won impossible battles before, but this was different. She felt alone. Percy couldn’t fight. Annabeth and Piper were too sick. Neither Jason nor Leo had returned. They’d wasted so much of their energy and magic fighting the Triple A Chimera the night prior, and she was the only one who came out mostly unscathed.

Hazel fell to pieces at the thought of Phobetor making Frank kill the Romans that he’d just saved. She wondered where Clovis was, if the son of Hypnos was still alive, and if he had the strength to help her wake Frank.

Her insides quivered to think that this time, without her friends and without the gods to help, Hazel might be about to die again. They all might be about to die. Hazel didn’t mind sacrificing herself in Alaska to stall Gaea. She did mind failing this group of Romans and Camp Half-Blood. She minded not being able to save Frank.

Something made her shakes become violent.

Although the ground had been rumbling with each of the battling giants’ steps, the vibration became more consistent, almost rhythmically so. Hazel could sense the ground shifting a few yards away, further outside where the Mist barrier should have been.

At first, she thought Python was about to make another hole for a second grand entrance. But, it couldn’t have been her; the massive drakon had paused by the cabins, as did a figure running towards the draken, the sinister gleam of the Cloven Terror.

Even the ghouls seemed to hesitate.

It was a song coming from the ground.

When the sound became loud enough to distinguish a terrible cacophony of words, Hazel gritted her teeth, wondering if this song was one more way for the gods attacking their camp to dishearten them.

“Heartbroken, we found a gleam of hope.

Hearken to the sound, a whistle blows.

Heaven sent a reply, however small.

Evidence of life beyond these walls.”

Hazel couldn’t tell if it was the shaking ground or the pressure in her eardrums that sent her to her knees. Others, ghosts and allies alike, fell near her. Even the two giants faltered, though, one laughed in squawkish delight. “My favorite lyrical maniac!”

“We dream of jailers throwing down their arms.

We dream of open gates and no alarms.

Look to the day the Earth will shake.

These weathered walls will fall away.”[2]

Right as the dissonance became unbearable, the earth itself seemed to give before anyone else.

Outside the strawberry field, and just outside camp, the grass sagged downward.

The singing abruptly stopped.

“K’oop!”[3]

A male and female voice cried in harmony.

Then, a greenish, glowing fist smashed through the weakened earth’s surface.

Something massive crawled out of the hole.

At first, it looked like a holographic projection—a twenty-foot-tall glowing greenish-turquoise woman with the head of a bestial feline. The semi-transparent warrior had claws as long and sharp as Hazel’s spatha and fangs the same length. At first, Hazel felt herself despair. How were they supposed to fight this along with all the others?

A familiar voice shouted, “ROMANS! FEAR DOES NOT CONTROL US! WE CONTROL IT! LIKE WE WILL TAKE BACK CONTROL OF THIS BATTLEFIELD!”

Hazel almost sobbed to hear Reyna. Her terror dissolved.

When Hazel blinked through the tears, unsure why she had been in doubt before, she could see four figures riding on the cat warrior’s shoulders. In the center of the greenish avatar, a man’s body hovered. When it braced forward, the avatar mimicked his movement and did the same.

“What in Tartarus is that?!” Phobetor demanded, apparently forgetting his control over Frank. His kiwi bird skull twisted to look at Eris, now shrinking in the lack of continued mayhem.

“I’m starting with him,” said a girl balanced perfectly on the outside of the cat warrior’s right shoulder. The familiar daughter of Demeter had a faint glow of her own. Euna gestured towards the God of Nightmares with a scythe. With her other hand, she tilted her head back and appeared to drop something into her eye.

Phobetor huffed. “I beg your pardon?!”

“Thalia, let’s you and I give the Cloven Terror some cover fire. Don’t want that dodgy prick getting all the glory,” said a hulking figure crouching by the cat’s neck and grabbing on for dear life.

“Oh my gods!” The huntress’ voice shook with rage from the other side of the neck. “Python wrecked Artemis’ cabin?! Let’s crush him!”

If Hazel hadn’t been so close, she might not have heard Reyna’s finalizing strategy. Her imperial gold armor glinted in the hologram’s glow like a halo, though splotches of the metal looked tarnished and her cloak tattered. “Are you ready to make good on your debt? Help my troops as I have helped yours,” she said to the cat warrior.

“Yes, Praetor. Then we’ll go to—” the male and female voice separated from harmony as one said, “my” and the other said, “his” before uniting to say, “brother.” With each pronoun, they split again. “Remember, I/he’s not used to this form. I/he can’t hold it for long. We need to do this fast.”

Hazel, thankfully, didn’t see the Plague Bringer up there, but she could hear the scratchy singer from earlier howled with glee, “You heard the man-lady! Let’s kick some ass!”

Thanks for reading! Sorry this isn’t my cleanest chapter, especially at the beginning. Things kinda went to Hell in a hand basket between some work and family stuff, so I’ve been struggling to find time to clean these up. >.< Regardless, I hope you enjoyed! Stayed tuned next week for Calex’s chapter: A Boycott on Falling.

Footnote:

[1] Hazel, the level 3 Ranger, casts Blade Storm! Then she rolls a 2…

[2] Thrice. “The Earth Will Shake.” Vheissu 2005. This song is WAY older than I thought it was >>’’ (Mel, I might change the song choice later. I couldn’t find a more recent one that fit so well.)

[3] “Strike” in Mayan.

#Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Traitors of Olympus #PJO #HOO #fanfiction #Hazel #Melinoe #Frank #Percy--sort of....?#some hopefully bad ass entrances #some really shitty early writing >>'''''#Sorry guys--I barely had time to get this posted this weekend. Will try to make it cleaner next weekend!

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kumeko · 6 years ago

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of fate and choices

A/N: written for the BigThreesome Zine.

Summary: The mark on her neck was no stronger than the tattoo on her thigh. The choice was all theirs, was always theirs.

...

Monday

Mirio liked mornings the best. He’d wake up in a mess of limbs, with Nejire spread out all over the bed and Tamaki curled up in a small ball. Her hair spooled all over them, a blanket, while Mirio’s hand kept Tamaki from falling off the edge of the bed. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he curled his arms around both of them for a quick hug before leaping off the bed.

“Mornin’?” Groggily, Tamaki sat up. Swaying slightly, he stared at Mirio for a long moment before falling back onto the bed. Nejire didn’t react, sleeping like the dead as usual.

“Morning!” With a broad grin, Mirio pecked his husband’s forehead before getting ready for work. His spouses didn’t have to leave yet, but he still had to drop Eri off at pre-school. And make breakfast. And pack her lunch.

And maybe he should have set his alarm a little earlier, he was going to be late at this rate.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he chanted as he tossed on his clothes. They were a little loose and it was only the infinite belts he wore that kept them from slipping right back off him. Nejire liked to open the buckles one by one and see just how many it’d take before he was naked.

But that was a thought for neither here nor there and Mirio was definitely going to be late.

“Nejire…made lunch,” Tamaki muttered, his voice thick with sleep. He was staring up at the ceiling, a hand covering his eyes. It was still too bright for him.

“Really?” Mirio stared at Nejire in surprise. She was already taking over the space he had left, her limbs sprawled ungracefully over the vast majority of the bed.

“I supervised.” Tamaki rubbed his eyes slowly. “It’s edible. I made sure she didn’t use anything too strange.”

Which was a little sad, because Mirio did like the strange new combinations Nejire always found. However, it was probably better if Eri didn’t suddenly realize she hated the taste of eggplant, plum, and acai stir fry. Even if they all followed the purple colour scheme.

“I love you.” Mirio pecked both of them once more before running off to wake up Eri.

Yeah, Mirio liked mornings the best.

-x-

Tuesday

“Is that your soulmate’s symbol?” Ochako leaned closer to see symbol on Nejire’s shoulder. “A sun? How cute!”

“It is, right? It totally is!” The weather had picked up recently and Nejire had started sporting less and less fabric as each day passed by. Unfortunately, Tamaki stopped her from going any further than a tank top and shorts. Still, there was always tomorrow. One of these days, he’d slip up. Besides, it was her fashion line! What did it matter if she wore almost nothing? It was hot!

“What’s your symbol?” The new temp was curious. Nejire liked that about her. Well, she liked a lot of things about Ochako but curiosity was at the very top of the list.

“A tornado!” Nejire grinned. When they first met and her symbol had etched itself on Mirio’s wrist, he didn’t really believe it was hers. Apparently she had seemed too thin, too small for something so disastrous. “A big one.”

“Ahaha, I can see that.” Ochako chuckled, nodding her head. Another thing she liked about the newbie—she realized instantly that a tornado was the perfect fit.

“Oh, wait, wait!” Halting immediately, Nejire pulled up the left side of her shorts slightly. “Look at this one too.”

“Huh?” Perplexed, Ochako stared at the fluffy cloud on her thigh. “A tattoo?”

“It’s for my other soulmate.” The second Tamaki had said yes, she had gone to the closest tattoo parlor. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Ochako’s confusion didn’t clear but Nejire paid her no mind. Summer was great, she could show off both symbols so easily now. Maybe she’d wear shorter shorts tomorrow. She could even pick out the ones Tamaki liked—there was no way he could object then.

-x-

Wednesday

The restaurant’s bathroom was empty when Tamaki entered it. Approaching the sink, he splashed the cool water on his face. Despite how long he had been working here, he had yet to get used to the kitchen’s heat.

His bangs were dripping when he looked up in the mirror. They were starting to get long—he’d have to get Nejire to cut them later. As he pushed them to the side, the cloud on his neck caught his eye. It was still there then. Good. Tracing the pattern with his finger, he sighed with relief.

He could still stay with them, then.

-x-

Thursday

“Mirio!” Deku waved as Mirio slid into the fire station.

Panting, he looked up at the clock—7:59. Puffed up with pride, he high-fived his partner. “Made it!”

“Good thing too, Yagi was already preparing your punishment.” Deku gestured behind him, to the office where Fire Chief Yagi was watching them with a slightly disappointed expression. “I’m glad you got here on time!”

“I couldn’t keep setting a bad example for you!” Mirio frowned as they headed to the change rooms. Unbuttoning his shirt, he nodded sagely to himself. “Just like Yagi, I have to give you an ideal to reach for.”

Deku blinked before settling into an easy smile. “You do that enough at work anyways!” Opening his locker, he stared down at Mirio’s wrists for a moment before biting his lip. “Could I ask you something?”

Ah, that question. It had been a few months since they had become partners—the longest anyone had waited before asking. “Go ahead.”

“…How did you know?”

Surprised, Mirio stared at his junior. “Huh?”

Deku flushed a deep red, his fingers pushing against one another as he clarified his question. “You have two soulmates, right? How…how did you know?”

Not the question he had been expecting, but Deku was always full of surprises. Proudly, Mirio showed the tornado and cloud imprinted on his wrists. “With Nejire, we happened to be in the same classroom and we just…clicked? It was almost instantaneous but she’s never had patience anyways.” Mirio chuckled, remembering how quickly his wife had searched the room for him.

“I see…” Deku had a little notebook out, his pen already scribbling away. Mirio snorted—even now, his junior was so serious. “I hear it burns a little when it changes.”

“Yeah, just a little.” Fondly, he traced the cloud he got after seeing Nejire’s. “Tamaki…he took a little longer but there was never any other choice.”

“Never?” Deku looked up at those words.

Mirio repeated firmly, “Never.”

“Do you think I’ll have to wait long?” Deku stared at the palm of his hand, at the rabbit etched on his skin. “I keep looking but it never changes.”

“Hmm…well, sometimes people never find their soulmates. It’s a huge world, right?” Mirio gestured at the wall, in the direction of Yagi’s office. “Chief never found his but he’s still happy with his husband.”

“That’s true…there are cases like that.” Deku took a deep breath before lifting his head. A determined look in his eyes, he quickly returned to changing. “Thanks!”

-x-

Friday

Tamaki’s hands hovered hesitantly over her spaghetti straps. Nejire could feel the warmth radiating from his palms, see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. His throat had been dry all evening, ever since he spotted her and Mirio coming down the stairs. Even drinking three glasses of water at dinner had done nothing to quench his thirst.

His fingers trembled. Staring up into his eyes, she saw age-old fear and doubt cloud his sight. Swiftly, she reached up and cupped his cheeks, pulling his face down for a kiss.

“Hey, listen to me.” Pulling away slightly, she pressed her forehead to his. Sometimes, touching Tamaki was touching glass; she was afraid he’d shatter. Mirio was better at handling him than she was. Her touch had always been too abrasive, leaving behind bruises and wounds whether she meant it or not.

But Tamaki was important and for Tamaki, she would try. Keeping her voice soft, she continued. “I chose you.”

“Wha—“ Tamaki tried to step back but she kept her grip firm. “It’s not…it’s not that.”

Nejire wasn’t going to play the game, not today. “I chose you. I still choose you, choose this. So does Mirio.”

If there was one thing she had never understood, it was this need to follow soulmates. To be bound to them. If Mirio hadn’t been her match, she still would have picked him. If someone else had been her soulmate, she still might have rejected him. The mark on her neck was no stronger than the tattoo on her thigh. If only Tamaki could see that, could understand that. The choice was all theirs, was always theirs.

“Hey, hey listen.” She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of him breathing. His heart was faster than a rabbit’s, she was certain of it. Opening her eyes, she stared right into his. “I love you. We love you. Did you hear that? Did you?”

His ears went red and had this been any other time, she would have bitten them. She still might, after all of this. Tamaki froze at this confession, his hands resting on top of hers instead of pushing her away.

“I love you,” she repeated. Even though he didn’t respond, his fingers didn’t shake this time as he reached for her shoulders.

-x-

Saturday

“Mama?” Eri poked her head into the bedroom, clutching a stuffed unicorn tightly. Tamaki looked up from the book he was reading and Nejire put down her Switch. “Daddy?”

“Another nightmare?” Tamaki asked, closing his book.

“Yeah…Papa’s sleeping?” Eri shuffled nervously at the foot of the bed, looking down the entire time. “I...”

Nejire was already patting the space between her and Mirio. Tamaki watched in horror as she started to roll him towards the edge of the bed to make more room. “Want me to fight your closet?”

Eri’s eyes were round as saucers as she considered it. Clambering up onto the bed, she snuggled next to Nejire and nodded rapidly. “Please!”

“Alright! Mama’s going to be a monster hunter tomorrow!”

-x-

Sunday

“And they all lived happily ever after.” Tamaki glanced over at his adoptive daughter. She looked so much like her father, even when she was asleep. Quickly, he removed the finger puppets they had all made one rainy afternoon, setting them back into Eri’s playbox.

After kissing Eri’s forehead, he quietly closed the door and returned to his—to their room. The lights were low, with Nejire and Mirio curled up to each other, fast asleep. They had left space between them, space for him.

They always left space for him. The extra toothbrush when he first started dating, the mug in the cabinet, the drawer they cleaned just for him. Tamaki’s right hand curled around his neck, covering the cloud.

Even if he met his soulmate tomorrow, there was nowhere else he wanted to be. This was home, they were home. Crawling into bed, he pecked both of them lightly. “Me too,” he mumbled, remembering Nejire’s words the other day. “Me too.”

Her eyes snapped open, arms already pulling him down before he could retreat. “I heard that!” she half sang, her voice thick with sleep. “I heard that!”

If there was one saving grace, it was that Mirio hadn’t heard it. Yet. Nejire would definitely tell him tomorrow.

#boku no hero academia #mirio toogata #tamaki amakiji #nejire hadou #miritamaneji #big three #bnha #fanfic #zine

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antihero-writings · 6 years ago

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Tu Fui Ego Eris—Don’t Starve Fic (Full Fic)

Fic Title: Tu Fui Ego Eris

Fic Synopsis: “As you are now, so once was I. As I am now, so shall you be.” Poetic prose from the Ancient Fuelweaver/King.

Character Focus: Ancient Fuelweaver

Notes: I was watching Zeklo’s lore/theory videos and I thought my brain might explode if I didn’t do something with all the information, so this happened! Aside from the actual quotes from the Ancient Fuelweaver (the bolded parts), I think most of the ideas behind this fic come from his video about the murals in the Ancient Ruins.

(This is a repost of an old fic!)

Fic:

How we’ve fallen.

It was not enough. The earth and the sky were not enough. Not enough, and full of storms and winters.

So we went beneath the ground, where the only thing to fear falling from the sky was the earth.

When there were no stones left, we mined our own nightmares.

I think we forgot what light looked like.

“King,” “reign,” even “love,” became empty letters in our infected plane. I thought I knew what those strings of symbols were, what they meant, but some lightning-struck, honeyed words, and a spiked staff, told me otherwise. And my heart turned black.

We are so far beneath the flowers.

I was not always a shadow. Neither were my people. But we consorted with nightmares, until nightmares we became. No light. No life. Left.

I promise you, there is a right. Do not pretend, do not tell your soul, otherwise. And I was wrong.

Hard shells on our backs, into soft black, into nothing at all.

We lost our hands and faces…I called back their hands and faces...

I will make you understand.

It is not an easy fate. To be a king, then a prisoner. It would be grim indeed, to be a prisoner in a foreign land. It is, I think, worse yet to be a prisoner in your own land, chained to your head; still a king, still on the throne, still with the power—more of it perhaps—but the throne blooms into thorns beneath your feet, beneath your reign, beneath your brain, in your tattered city, beneath the ground. The nightmare throne, where there is no such thing as ransom. Where the hands clasping yours belong not to your queen, but the demons that talked you into this current plight—even if they’re your demons, and your own mind made them.

Cannot leave. Cannot die. Cannot see Metheus again. Watch, and wait, with all that power in your grasp. The only choice is to go mad with it. The only choices are wrong, and wrong, and wrong. You don’t make them because you think they’re, in any way, right. Not for any righteous reason; not glory, nor even show of strength, not to save someone, not even yourself. Not for any reason at all. Just boredom. Just waiting. Just to fill the nothing. Because sometimes you’d rather have something, than nothing at all. Even if it’s terrible, cruel—the motives of a mad creature, mad king, ruler over this insanity, and ruled by it all the same—to cause them this pain, and this much, at least it’s better than hollow wind, and taunting memories. It is a rare affliction, I do not expect you to understand it (you, with your head full of needs and wants, and your blood still red…you are so very lucky) but sometimes you’d rather have nightmares than no dreams at all.

Or at least watch them play out for someone else.

You forget the importance of dreams until nightmares are all that is left.

You will be unraveled. You will rip apart at the seams.

And watch them die. No pleasure in their pain, though there may have been a sick part of it all at first. Pure jealousy. You start to long for horrible things. And when they cry ‘please, I don’t want to die!’ before they starve, before the hound’s tooth is shoved through their heart, before the darkness snatches their light away, and with it their life, you want nothing more than to take their place. When you know this to your core, then you will know why Death itself is pure mercy.

So you make them come back. You refuse to give them that mercy. It was not granted you, why should it be granted them? Revive, resurrect, just to watch them die over and over again, feeling a pang like addiction in the back of your heart. Mercy or torture, all depends on the voice you use to say the words. All depends on if you’re watching the scene from before, or beyond, the grave, or somewhere in between.

Or upon the nightmare throne.

You will not suffer. You have not known suffering.

It is not an easy fate. To be a blackened heart dropped by the shadow of a machine you once created. Our clockwork, still ticking, fighting a fight they no longer remember. To be thrust into a corpse, not your own, to be made to fight too—like you’re the toy, and not the once-king—and, at last receive the drug you crave, and carved: death. To slumber, only to come back again, because someone else upon the throne named it so.

How long have I slumbered?

Full of hate and rage and regret. I remember it all. Unlike you, who seem to have forgotten your past, as the world has forgotten mine.

You will fall, as we did.

Steal our gems, break down our walls, steal our hearts, take our souls. It doesn’t frighten we, who are shadows. But the moment you hold dreams-gone-awry in the palm of your hand, I feel a phantom stir in a heart-gone-wrong, that reminds me of something I used to call fear. I know you took the idea from us—this notion that bad dreams can fuel things—but, like a disease, we caught it from them. Knowledge may be power, but when fueled by nightmares, when wielded by them, power and knowledge are less than worthless; they are a negative.

They will not show you mercy. They are coming. It cannot be stopped. You know not what the gateway holds.

Broken gateways of forgotten realms (our threadbare world, our listless skies) may seem harmless, but they will arouse something inside you called curiosity. Find the key, steal it from the Ancient Guardian. Just to see what it does. Revive the king. Just to win the fight. Curiosity may be more lethal, more venomous, than you bargain for, with more bite to it than knowledge or power.

You saw an entire civilization built on nightmares and you thought, why not us too? Did your mind (still working, still with the dreams) ever wonder if maybe the blackened tears, and the reddened floorboards, were more than just an eerie exhibition, but a warning? That maybe it was the past, begging you turn away? Then you gave those frayed yesterdays my voice. And still, you refuse to listen.

I must do this. For your sake.

I am not some animal to kill for sport, or meat, or treasure in my heart’s beat. Don’t mistake me for a beast, or a boss. I am not merely a shadow. I once weaved the fuel as you do; weaved the tale of my own demise into carpets, and tapestries. My city...in tatters... this world… threadbare.

I have fought very hard to remain more than merely a shadow, and will not be reduced to the absence of light now. Cast into this fight, the light, but I have decided to be more. It may be hard to imagine, but this is about more than blood, and victory.

I will save you.

I would have nothing worth fighting for. If it weren’t for you. New creatures. Humans, as you are called.

Maxwell. The new king. ‘Amazing’. Perhaps, perhaps not. Perhaps no creature can be amazing enthroned in nightmares. With a flair for magic all-too-real, with too much knowledge, and too much power, you would succumb, far too fast.

This was another important piece I learned about humanity: darkness has a way with you.

Willow. The fire, without the spark. There is always something to burn, child, and sometimes you’re the only thing left. Best not reach the point where you’ll burn it all, with yourself in those flames too. Or when it is yourself you wish to burn, but your heart will not even char.

Wolfgang. the strongman. Too little brain, and a heart too soft. Afraid of the cold and the dark. What good is a strongman with a weakened heart? But, then again, what good is a creature with a callous heart, and the strength to follow the threats through? Perhaps it’s for the best that you were made to be kind.

Wendy. The girl, and the ghost. The one who knows death is inevitable, but how, here, though death runs rampant, life is far more impervious to being overthrown. The one who knows there is more to life than curiosity. But weakness can go a long way, and the things that haunt you may protect you now, but one day they may turn around, with reddened glaze. Maybe one day you’ll remember how memories can come alive, and why they are called ghosts.

WX-78. Invention, not man. Metal, not flesh. I wonder, does a thing like you have a soul? I wonder, when the lightning strikes, do you feel its burn, its warm glow? Or are these strings just numbers tied to your wires? If I tried to talk to the sense in you, would there be any sense in you to talk to? When you tell the living things their inadequacy, I must admit, you have your points. But I wonder if it means anything to you, if those words are yours, or if they are numbers your maker wrote into you. Maybe that's all any of us are, and the question was pointless from the beginning.

Wickerbottom. The librarian. The library. The reader. The writer. The stuck-in-her-ways. Do you see how knowledge can only get you so far? That your hands may not be the right ones to wield it? Though, there may be no one to wield it right; too much of knowledge should be left on the forest floor. Still, perhaps it is better to know, than to wander in the dark. But when you choose ignorance for the sake of curiosity, for the sake of more knowledge, what good is the knowledge you had in the first place?

Woodie. Now there’s an interesting sight. The lumberjack, with the axe who talks like a lady, and a condition of the moon that is laughable at best, and pathetic at worst. Still, though your story may sound as such, you are not the least sane of the bunch.

Wes. The silent. The mime. Not to be confused with the actor. Only there to make things worse for the ones behind the strings. Only there to make balloons and pop them, and not say a word, and try your very best to be a living thing, and fail from the beginning.

We are all tied to strings, waiting to hit the sky, to fall back down, or pop apart somewhere in the middle.

Wigfrid. Here’s the actor. The one to take things just a little bit too far. If the acting kills you dear, if it gives you more reason to fear, and less fear to draw from, then perhaps its best to live in the real world.

Or perhaps this world was never real in the first place.

Webber. The spider-boy, the one who understands perhaps more than the rest give him credit for. The child, with the face of a monster. And if only the rest of you understood, maybe you’d say poor, poor thing, until your lips bleed with pity. You poor, poor boy, you should not go into the dark. Should not go into the light. Sometimes the grown ups are more childish than the young. And I wish they listened to you.

The darkness’ sister. With rough hands, and a mind to mend machines and metal, but with no less darkness in her than the sister herself.

And at last Wilson. The scientist. The comedian. The perfect balance. Nothing too weak, nothing too strong. But people want strength, and will ignore the weakness for it sake. They don’t want normal—even if you’re a little bit mad, and your story, a little bit sad, they may choose someone with a little more flash, a little more to be had.

In the end, that is the moral to my sad little tale—my bedtime story of the ticking clock and nightmare hands: Science, with a dash of madness, and magic; mind, with a dash of heart; will kill us, or save us all. And maybe you—the first, the most logic-bound, and perhaps maddest of us, were the protagonist after all, and it is your hands, your lips, your brain, your heart, that will seal our fates.

You are more like me than either of us might care to admit.

I know your tale too; how science failed you, and how those demon-hands reached out to grab your wrists, your heart, to chain your mind to the nightmares too. But unlike for me, or Maxwell, somehow you were shown mercy. All of you, brought together, to defeat me, and enter their world. You may not be the king, that may not be your rule. So my question is far more simple: if science and magic destroyed you once, twice, who will you turn to in the end? Will you fall back to the lightning’s warm glimmer, or will you dare to refuse the nightmares that call from below?

This is the reason I am still willing to fight; you. All of you.

The future. The fight. The guilty-of-theft. The curious. The cold. The only thing left.

I will save you.

The gate is not what you think. And even if where it leads may seem harmless, of little consequence, at first, they are still there, waiting. They are unfathomable. I know you think you can reset ruins, because the things you mine beneath the ground, in the nightmares' realm, are the most valuable, but they are ruins for a reason, and restarting will not make them, make me, whole again.

Don’t open the gate. Don’t restart. Don’t try it, but don’t lose heart. I will not protest to death, if it means you will understand, and leave the broken parts.

Don’t…

...Don’t…

...(Don’t)...

...Y-yy...

You made your choice.

#dont starve #ds #ancient fuelweaver #don't starve together #dst #fic #fanfic #writing #fic: tu fui ego eris #antihero writings

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maki-ryota · 7 years ago

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Kamen Rider Ryuki Novel: Chapter 7

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 This is the longest chapter so far (almost 30 pages), mainly regarding Ren’s past. This one is gonna require quite a few warnings. Next chapter is Kitaoka’s intro! (also i guess i should stop calling these summaries cause im pretty much translating everything. lol) Please like or comment if you read it....I worked really hard on this chapter in particular. Warnings: (deep breath)...Police violence, gun violence, PTSD, domestic violence, graphic animal death, graphic violence in general

Scene 1 One day, Shinji is on his way home from returning a DVD he rented. On the way, he sees Ren. He decides to track him down and try to make an agreement to no longer fight. Ren reaches his apartment and goes inside. Shinji parks his bike and walks up, reading the name plate that says “Akiyama Ren” on the mailbox. He walks up and rings the doorbell. As he waits for an answer, he thinks of how he can persuade Ren. However, there’s no answer. Ren must be pretending to not be home! Just as Shinji goes to press the doorbell, the door swings open and hits Shinji. “You bastard.” Ren says.　“Did you really think I didn’t notice your shitty attempt at following me?” “I have something important to talk to you about! Please listen!” Shinji pleads. Ren refuses, saying they only need to kill one another. There’s no need for talking. Shinji gets mad, saying this behavior is abnormal.It’s not like they’re living in a videogame! People don’t just casually fight and kill each other like this. “You say that, but you wrote your wish, didn’t you? What was it again...to win the lottery?” Ren answers, laughing dryly. “Y-Yeah...but I didn’t know what else to do at the time.” Shinji replies. “How boring. Couldn’t you at least wish to win the Jumbo Lottery?” “It might be boring, but the Jumbo Lottery is too expensive...” The duo continue to squabble until Shinji calls Ren out for changing the subject. “Don’t you understand? If you lose the fight, you’re dead! Do you want to die? Do you want to be a murderer?” Shinji snaps. “All I want is for my wish to be granted.” Ren answers. “But is is okay if it means you have to kill others?” “There’s no problem. Why can’t you understand? Everyone here knew what they signed up for.” “But-” “Enough!” Ren interrupts, punching Shinji in the gut. “Don’t come here again. If you want to meet me, do so in the Mirror World. I’ll kill you with my own hands.” Ren slams the door, leaving Shinji groaning in pain on the ground. After a moment, Shinji gets back on his feet and decides to head home, defeated. As he’s making his way down the stairs, he suddenly stops dead in his tracks when he sees a light. He then sees the form of a strange girl, facing away from him, just standing there. Her shadow is cast on the wall, looking much more defined than a normal shadow. The shadow grows and becomes darker, looking as if it’s standing up taller. The form of the girl flickers before reappearing in Ren’s bedroom. Scene 2 Ren lays in bed, looking at Yui’s sleeping face as he holds her in his arms. Surely, it isn’t him that she’s thinking of. A woman like this, that flickers and disappears without warning, is surely not thinking of him. He’s sure she neither thinks of him, nor wishes for him to love her. Ren isn’t thinking of her either; not really. He’s not thinking of Eri either. All he’s thinking is of is the last thing Eri saw. A shiny silver line. To Ren it appears to him as a start line. Where it all started. Scene 3 Ren was born and grew up in a quiet mountain town. His father was a policeman. His mother and father deeply loved each other. The first memory Ren recalls is being carried on his father’s shoulders. He reached for the sun with his tiny hand. However, as he did so, the shadow of his hand spread across the ground, looking as if it would attack. He immediately began to cry. Thinking back now, Ren feels like this single moment has served as a symbol of his life. Ren looked up to his father very much as a child. He was the ideal policeman, in his eyes. Every day he’s work from his department,sometimes being dispatched on his motorcycle to go catch criminals. He arrested anyone from burglars to gropers on trains. The sight of Ren’s father in his police uniform was his favorite. Something about the way he looked in it made him think of a soldier. His father carried his pistol hidden away in his holster. Ren would sometimes daydream about his father using the gun to fight against giant monsters, as if he were a superhero. As a elementary school student, he’d sometimes bring his friends around the police station on the way home, just so he could brag. Ren and his father had a great and loving relationship. Whenever Ren behaved well, his father would give him candy. When he had free time, he’d help him with his homework. However, the time they spent the most time together was when his father took him fishing in the morning. At first, it was excruciating for Ren. You see, his father insisted on fishing up in the mountains. “Fishing is fun! So, you can deal with the pain of the climbing.” he insisted. As they climbed the mountain trails, Ren’s father taught him many things. The different kinds of mountain vegetables, how to spot poisonous mushrooms, names of birds and flowers...and much more. After awhile, with his father’s hard teaching, the climbs no longer hurt. Ren gained a new sense of vitality. After passing this hurdle, these experiences became more and more fun. By the time he entered middle school, he could match his father’s pace. Ren’s mother would make a delicious dinner with the fish and mountain vegetables they brought back to her after their climbs. His parents never fought, not even once. They were always cuddling up to each other, and his mother had a smile that never seemed to falter. At that time, his family life was truly perfect. Ren was the type of son that his parents would brag about. He cleaned the house, won awards at school, and was able to make friends with anyone. Though they weren’t worried, they always did find it curious that he didn’t have any truly close friends. Rather than a human, Ren’s very best friend was his dog, John. Other people were annoying. A dog was much better. Ren’s father found John one day, having been left at the lost and found. No owner ever came to claim him, so he brought him home to surprise Ren one day. John was a truly beautiful shepherd dog of the highest pedigree. Him and Ren were inseparable from the start. Ren would take him for walks every day, John would help Ren feel better on the days he was sick. Every day John would wait for Ren to come home. He’d be in the entrance waiting with his ears perked up 30 minutes before Ren even came home. The second the door opened, he’d leap onto him and lick his face. The Akiyama household continued peacefully like this until one day, when Ren was a sophomore in high school. The day was a record-breaking heatwave, On that excruciatingly hot day, Ren;s father shot his gun for the first time. He was given the info and immediately rushed to the scene. A pachinko parlor. As soon as the doors opened, he saw various machines splattered with blood. The criminal was on the run. Suddenly he appeared before him. The man wore a black tanktop and was covered with tattoos. He was at the exchange counter, shoving rolls of banknotes into pocket. By chance, an old woman passed in front of him. He immediately pulled out a knife and stabbed her. As the women fell to the ground, Ren’s father fired a single shot, hitting the man in the forehead. Death was instantaneous. This ended up being big news. The police force was planning to retire the use of firearms while on duty that very same year. In Ren’s father’s case,the criminal had been a member of the yakuza with a lengthy criminal record, so any judgement was dropped. Once the media attention had died down, Ren’s father was able to return to his job. However, it was around this time that Ren started to hear rumors about his father. People were saying he was acting very strange. One day, while shopping for vegetables, Ren’s father abruptly ripped apart a cabbage with his hands. “A weapon was hidden inside. I was sure of it.” He insisted. Another day, while on patrol, he passed behind neighboring butcher shops and a clock shop, and looked into their storage rooms. In the next moment, he had ripped a needle from one of the clocks and had sliced a hanging pig carcass open. There had to be a weapon hiding within the pig as well. “Ren.” Ren woke up when he heard his father’s voice that night. He was standing in his room, despite it being well past midnight. “Kinoshita is still alive.” This was the moment that Ren realized the rumors were true. Kinoshita was the name of the criminal his father had shot. “Listen Ren. That mine isn’t dead. I missed his vital organs, see? And now, he’s looking for an opportunity to get his revenge on me. He’s in town somewhere, pretending to be someone else.” Ren completely didn’t understand, and yet his father continued. “Tamura, the guy who owns the fish shop...it’s definitely him. There’s something suspicious about him. He’s hiding a weapon inside one of the fish and is planning on stabbing me.” Ren’s father then asks him to follow Tamura as to prove his suspicions right. Ren goes straight to his mother when this happens. She also noticed his personality changing dramatically. The next day at dinner, the soup got lukewarm, Ren’s father slapped his mother the face, hard. He had never laid a finger on her before. the second Ren saw his mother start to cry, he knew he had to say something. He tells him that the criminal already committed the sin of killing another human, so he only got his comeuppance. Ren begs with his father, saying he wants his old home life back. Even though he said that, Ren does get curious and ends up visiting the fish shop on the way home from school the next day. “How is Tamura doing?” he asked one of the staff, trying to keep his talking as vague as possible. “You’re the son of that man! He’s always staring into the shop with cold, empty eyes.” the staff responds. While later taking John for a walk, Ren felt like someone was watching him. It seemed like he was the one being tailed this time. John was the one to find the culprit, lurking from the nearby bushes. And to Ren’s disbelief, it was... “Dad?!” “You’re not Ren.” was all he responded with. The very next day, Ren walked into the garden, only to see John dead on the ground. He had two slits down the bottom of his body, laying under the persimmon tree. His father was standing over the body. “You’re not Ren.” Ren’s father walked towards him, pulling out his pistol. “You thought about it, and becoming my son was the best way to get to me. You thought I’d be unprepared. That I wouldn’t be willing to kill my son. But it’s all over now. No more running away. This time I’ll make sure not to miss your vital organs.” Ren’s father aimed at Ren and pulled the trigger. In the next moment, his father’s head flew back instead, and Ren’s face and the persimmon tree were smeared with his father’s grey matter. Scene 4 Ren met Eri 2 years after his father’s death. (There was no transition between that last sentence and this one btw. LOL) After dropping out of college, Ren began working at a motorcycle shop. the shop sold used bikes as well as did repairs. His mother had already remarried with an acquaintance from the culture center. She seemed to love him very much. That never fading smile still remained on her lips. She wasn’t the kind of person to rely on others. Ren couldn’t bear to see this, or be reminded of his father, and moved out the day he graduated from high school. One day, while working alone, a girl in a red jumpsuit came in. She had a bike in need of repairs. Her eyes were very large, as if she were always in a state of surprise. Her lips were always closed tightly. This was Ogawa Eri. “Your bike isn’t broken.” Ren told her. “It’s just out of gas.” Eri’s serious expression fell. “Oh I’ve really done it, I’m such an idiot!” She replied, hitting herself in the head. “What are you even doing with a fancy bike like this? If you can’t even tell the difference between a broken bike and one that needs gas. You don’t deserve to ride such a bike. Ride a bicycle instead.” “Hmph. What’s the difference?” Crossing her arms, Eri rolled her bike back out of the shop with her nose in the air. After the death of his father, Ren went about getting his motorcycle license. In a way, his bike was his replacement for John. But there as really no comparing. A bike could never live up to his beloved dog. But Ren felt like he could only have one dog in his lifetime. Ren would ride his bike in the dead of night, allowing himself to feel and think nothing. He really loved that feeling. Getting in fights at night were also a common occurrence. He had become well-known for it. Ever since the death of his father, he felt like fighting anyone in front of him. The second time he met Eri, her bike really was broken. “See, it’s not the gas! It’s really broken this time!” she exclaimed. “That isn’t something to be proud of! It’s broken! Didn’t I tell you? It’d be better if you got a bicycle.” “What are you talking about? Are you going to fix it or not?” “Well, it is my job, after all. And besides, I feel sorry for your bike.” A few days after fixing it, she was back again with a broken bike. Three days later, she was back a fourth time. Four days after that, she was back a fifth time. Every time, her bike had more and more damage. She carried her helmet under her arm, which was covered in dents. “Enough with the bike riding! If you keep this up, you’re going to die!” “Yeah, I’ll stop.” She answered simply. “But in exchange, I want one thing. I want to know what it’s like to ride on the bike of a talented rider. Let me sit behind you while you drive. Just once.” “You really don’t get it, do you? I said to quit bikes altogether, for your own good.” “How about if I sign my will?” “Your will?!” “Yup! When I was ride my bike, I wonder ‘What if I die?’. So, I sign my will. Since you won’t let me ride with you.” “You’re a menace.” “Yup. I’m a menace.” “Fine. I’ll let you ride.” On the day they decided on, Ren meets Eri, who waves him over. “Oh, thank goodness! I thought you weren’t gonna come.” “I made a promise, didn’t I?” Eri was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans; an outfit that suited her much more than the red jumpsuit. She held something wrapped in cloth in her arms. Ren asked what is was. “Lunch!” Ren was bewildered. He was planning on taking her on a short ride and that being it. But she was planning to eat with him. This was a date. Just then, he spotted a grain of rice stuck to Eri’s arm. Images come to mind of her waking up early just to prepare the lunch. He doesn’t have the heart to refuse her. They rode the bike for two hours before stopping at a beachside area. Sitting i a bench underneath some trees, they began to eat. Eri’s lunch box was impeccably made. Three types of fish, all prepared expertly. Her cooking tasted like home. He asked her why she began riding bikes. She wanted to break away from a commonplace lifestyle, she claims. In hindsight, Ren finds it funny. Their relationship was very commonplace, in the end. Eri told him about her family. She had two younger brothers, and a mother who worked for a famous trading firm. As of now, her mom had grown troublesome. Eri’s plan was to become a nurse after graduating from university. “What about you? What kind of person are you?” “I might’ve killed my father.” “Is that so? How terrible.” Eri’s response is so casual that Ren doesn’t know what to say. At the end of the day, they ended up exchanging emails and phone number. The second date came soon after, and then the third, until they eventually started to actually refer to them as dates. They went out for dinner, to the beach, and to beautiful cherry blossom filled parks. One day while on a date, a dilemma occurred. While the two drove down the highway on their bike, Ren suddenly realized they were surrounded by bikes on all sides. He realizes immediately. These are the guys that he’s gotten in fights with trying to get revenge. How annoying. He wanted to revv up his bike, but it was a bit too heavy with two people on. “Calm down! Pull yourself together!” Eri demands. She soon realized what they were dealing with. “I might get in a fight, but don’t worry. There’s no way I’ll lose.” Ren took them to a riverside and parks the bike. Eri walks along the riverside, enamored with the flowers she finds. She picked some and put them in her pocket. While she was distracted in the flower bushes, the four bikes pulled up once more. All she hears are the sounds of birds scattering and men yelling. by the time she walks out of the bushes, Ren comes up to her, blood on his face and clothes. “It’s over, let’s go.” Eri refused. As a future nurse, it was her duty to patch up Ren’s wounds. With no other choice, they went to Ren’s house. She tended the small wounds first. then, she began to stitch up the gash on his arm. Whiskey was used as a disinfectant first. Then,she attempted to stitch up his arm with a needle and some of his fishing line. Or at least, she tried. After looking at the gash up close, she immediately passed out and fell to the floor. Blood oozed from the wound, and Ren laughed softly as he sewed the wound up himself. Would she be able to be a nurse? If it’s Eri...he’s sure he’d be okay with being in love, he realizes in that moment. And from that moment, the too of them became closer and closer. Going on bike trips together, staying at eachother’s homes, cooking, watching DVDs, making love. When Ren started dating Eri, his outlook changed for the better. A new light had been ignited behind his eyes. He wished that light could’ve remained longer, but then it happened. It was Eri’s 19th birthday. He promised to take her on a bike ride after not doing so for a long while. By chance,a group of boys visited his shop the next day, and Ren told him all about the date he was going to have with his girlfriend the next day. He would take her to Mt Fuji, and bathe in the summer sun together. Little did Ren know that these boys were apprentices of the group of men he had angered. The next day, Eri and Ren set out on their bike, excited for the trip ahead. As they turned onto the highway, Ren sped up. That’s when he heard Eri scream. “NO! STOP!” What? In the next moment, the bike flipped, flinging the couple off like a panicked horse. The bike flew into the air before smashing and sliding down the road. Ren landed in the grass beside the road before immediately losing consciousness. When he awoke, he looked to the road, where he saw a shining line. A piano wire lay on the ground. Next, his eyes caught Eri’s form, crumpled near the bike. she had left behind a trail of blood. Ren ran to her side and removed her helmet. Her head slumped to the side. From that moment, she had been utterly broken from inside. END OF CHAPTER 7

#ryuki novel summary #kamen rider ryuki

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kalosophia · 3 years ago

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The Alphaeus — Chapter 4

SOC. Very well; but as the tale is long I shall pare it down for brevity’s sake, and for the sake of your patience, Alphaeus. A wise and beautiful good woman once told me all of this, and thus she began the story:

There are four islands near to the edge of our ocean where the children of the sea were born. Here, also, the ambiguous Eris gave birth to a lovely daughter, and she named her Ate. Some report that the father of Ate was Zeus, some that it was Poseidon, and yet others say that she was fathered by Pan.

Suffice to say, that this immortal child was admired by all who saw her, because of her exceeding beauty and grace, her all-affecting charm and happy demeanour. Yet, even from an early age, wherever she went disagreement and discord appeared to follow in her trail, and arguing and dissension fell upon those who were previously friendly to each other, disrupting their amicable union. No reason could be assigned for this, as the child said and did nothing contentious, nor ever seemed to be the cause of anything but pleasant and warm emotions when present; but still in her wake unwelcome division followed, and neither she, nor any who mixed with her, ever considered that she may be the cause of it.

In her early youth she gained the favour of wave-calming Zeus, who, even though he would not recognize any relationship to the immortal girl, was prone, because of her charming demeanour, to listen to her supplications. These, as you will know, lead to a lifelong trial for one great hero, and to her banishment from the divine courts, to be cast down back to the island of her birth and there to live out time, forgetful of the whole of her celestial family. Yet she was ever a happy girl, and as she matured into her fine young womanhood, she delighted equally in her solitude as she did in her contacts with her native islanders.

On one cloudless and azure-skied morning, she was walking along her favourite strand absorbed by the heat of the day, when she saw, not far out to sea, five dolphins swimming and playing. Removing her light attire, she walked through the warm gentle waves, and was soon among the dolphins, who reveled in her company, so well could she swim and dive and play. After an hour had passed in this sport, Ate looked toward the shore, and saw there a small cave entrance that she had never noticed before. Ever curious, she swam to the shore and walked up to the cave, having to get on her hands and knees in order to enter it. Inside the cave its walls and arched ceiling were as smooth as polished marble, and many tiny multi-coloured flowers grew in invisible cracks throughout its depth. After walking ten paces she came to a shining wall, and up above her there seemed to be a narrow shelf bedecked by even more brilliantly coloured flowers. Standing high on her toes, and slowly stretching to her fullest, Ate felt on top of the shelf, and her fingers closed on a large round object, which she lifted down to see what it might be. It was an egg; though not one like she had ever seen before, as it was perfectly round, perfectly smooth, and perfectly green. Removing from the cave, holding the egg out before her, she walked back to retrieve her clothing, and made her way to her solitary home beside the sparkling River Kygnos.

Every day and every night Ate observed the egg, but no changes could be perceived in its perfect form. A whole month passed, and, as the bright full moon coursed her way throughout the night, Ate was woken by a single ‘crack’. Rising from her resting place she knelt down by the fireside, and saw to her astonishment that the egg had split in two, as if it had been cut by a surgeon’s knife around its full diameter. But what astonished her even more was the sight of a small but intricately formed dragon, warming its opening wings by the embers of the fire. And not only was this dragon so utterly charming in its appearance, but it sang, in some unknown language, the most enchanting song imaginable; and it moved the young woman to tears of pleasure and of joy. When at last the sun was up, Ate took the little dragon down to the nearby shore, and placed it on the warm sand within a ring of stones she used often for lighting fires and cooking simple food. As the dragon walked around the ring it happened upon a small pile of twigs that Ate had saved for kindling, and, after looking at it for a few moments, it blew a jet of fire out of its tiny nostrils, and the pile was consumed and reduced to ashes within just a few seconds. This delighted Ate, and she clapped her hands and laughed out aloud. The dragon, too, seemed very pleased with its display; but a moment later it began to utter a plaintive moan as it stared up at her, a pleading look in its jewel-like eyes, its breathing laboured as if it was worn and exhausted. Taking from her basket a small piece of bread, Ate offered it to the forlorn dragon, and it immediately snatched it from her outstretched hand, swallowed it whole, and then began to flap its wings and jump around in a circular dance. This also delighted Ate, and she laughed again at such a pleasant experience. Within moments the little dragon found a small unused branch, and, as before, after contemplating it for a short time, it blew out another plume of flame and consumed it to ashes in seconds.

One whole year passed by, and the dragon was now fully grown, and immensely powerful, and its appetite for consumption was beyond control. Ate was terrified of it, having long passed the point where she was delighted or amused or enchanted by its habits. Most of the trees, the plants, the crops and fruits, and animals and people of that island had fallen prey to the dragon’s voraciousness, and those few islanders that were left either fled their homes in the dark by boat, and went for refuge to one of the other three neighbouring islands, or they hid in caves and hollows by day, and grovelled about in their search for food at night. Ate could no longer provide for its needs, and the dragon, though it did not try to consume her, ignored her, and would frighten her away by the mere look from its hungry eyes. Hence, she sought refuge in the little cave where she had found the dragon’s egg, and regretted constantly that she had ever made that fatal discovery. And in the evening hours she would swim with the dolphins, and share with them their diet from the sea.

(To be continued)

— Guy

#Release Thyself #The Alphaeus #Ancient Greece #philosophy #Telamon #Alphaeus #Socrates #Happiness #Human #Guy

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bestgraffitiremovalproductsicjp7 · 4 years ago

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What Is The Best Graffiti Removal Company?

How Much Does Full Service Graffiti Removal Near Me Cost?

Table of ContentsWhat Is The Best Cost Of Graffiti Removal Service?Should I Hire A Professional Pressure Washing Contractor?A Better Graffiti Removal Prices?

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Path 5 Skyway Buffalo N. Discover 1 listings associated with Skyway Scrap Lawn in Buffalo on YP. Niagara Falls NY 14305 Skyway Vehicle Parts 637 Tifft St Buffalo NY 14220 Buffalo Police Officers no longer needed to display names on badges can wear badge number rather (graffiti removal business). The bridge opened in 1955 and was a marvel of modern-day engineering. Sep 20 2020 The most current action in the Skyway removal plan. Residential Or Commercial Property 5112 Arlington Roadway Palmetto 34221 has 2 bedrooms 1. View genuine time traffic cams for Western New york city and Southern Ontario consisting of Buffalo Niagara Falls USA and Canada and St. Jul 24 2016 Today is a much different time for Buffalo 39 s economy.

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9 million. 17 Sep 2019 BUFFALO N. 19s. graffiti removal business. Aug 31 2012 The Buffalo Skyway was initially referred to as quot High Level Bridge quot a description of the function of getting the road over the Buffalo River. buffalo skyway elimination.

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Eliminating graffiti isn't a task you can manage by yourself. You need expert support from specialists who understand how to thoroughly and effectively do this job. Initially, it's generally essential to use specific agents and cleaning agents when eliminating graffiti (graffiti removal business). You may not understand which are right for your requirements.

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We likewise comprehend how some exterior surfaces are more fragile than others, taking actions to ensure we don't cause any unneeded damage that you might quickly cause if you attempted to get rid of graffiti without the essential experience. Your own schedule is another aspect worth considering. Without the right tools and expertise, eliminating graffiti can take a long period of time. graffiti removal business.

What Is The Best Graffiti Removal Cost?

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The neighborhoods with higher graffiti grievances are mainly located in lower Manhattan (Chinatown, East Town, SoHo, Lower East Side) and Washinton Heights, the majority of locations in Queens, Brooklyn and Bronx that are close to Manhattan (Bedford, Williamsburg, Greenpoint, Hunters Point, Astoria, Mott Sanctuary, Hunts Point, etc), and some other locations in outer districts (Sunset Park, Bay Ridge, District Park, East New York City, Jackson Heights, Elmhurst, Jamaica, Westchester, etc). graffiti removal business.

Graffiti artists find out early not to get too attached. Ephemera is as main to their medium as spray paint. Some works last months, others do not make it through the night - graffiti removal business. Even the most popular pieces are not guaranteed to last. Many of the defining works of the late 1960s and 1970s in New York City" DONDI" covered around the side of a whole train automobile, "TAKI 183" sprayed on a brick facadehave been lost, painted over, or torn down totally.

All of that made the demolition of 5Pointz, a famous graffiti location in Long Island City, Queens, a not likely battlefield for the soul of https://pbase.com/topics/isiriarqfe/whohasth868 the art type. In the early 2000s, the derelict storage facility at 4546 Davis Street became a sanctuary for graffiti artists, thanks to an unusual arrangement. With the five-story complex in sporadic usage given that the 1970s and completely empty considering that 2009, the artist Jonathan Cohenwhose tag is Meres Onestruck a handle the structure's owner, Gerald "Jerry" Wolkoff: Artists who wished to paint big, extensive tasks could do so on the structure's outside without contravening of anti-graffiti laws, which had actually been ratcheted up during Mayor Rudy Giuliani's reign in the 1990s.

Graffiti artists, including the British artist Banksy, demanded the site's preservation, while New Yorkers lamented the sacrifice of another cultural artifact on the altar of the city's real-estate development machine. graffiti removal business. Under cover of darkness in November of that year, Wolkoff made the most of a stalled court injunction to have the building whitewashedover a years's worth of artwork gone overnight.

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75 million in overall damages. The settlement, which is under appeal, was hailed as a success for the artists. But it also signified an unusual new chapter in the history of graffiti. In the early days, by creed, a graffiti artist would ask neither for consent nor settlement. Now, after courting the former, artists at 5Pointz were getting the latter.

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bestgraffitiremovalproductsepwa0 · 4 years ago

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How Much Should I Pay For Graffiti Removal?

What Are The Best Graffiti Removal Cost Companies?

Table of ContentsHow Much Does It Cost To Hire A Removal Graffiti?How Do I Find A Graffiti Removal Company Service?What Is The Best Spring Graffiti Removal Rates

What Does Graffiti Removal Hotline Cost?

Path 5 Skyway Buffalo N. Discover 1 listings associated with Skyway Scrap Backyard in Buffalo on YP. Niagara Falls NY 14305 Skyway Auto Parts 637 Tifft St Buffalo NY 14220 Buffalo Police Officers no longer needed to display names on badges can use badge number rather (graffiti removal business). The bridge opened in 1955 and was a marvel of contemporary engineering. Sep 20 2020 The current action in the Skyway removal strategy. Property 5112 Arlington Roadway Palmetto 34221 has 2 bedrooms 1. View real time traffic cameras for Western New york city and Southern Ontario consisting of Buffalo Niagara Falls USA and Canada and St. Jul 24 2016 Today is a much different time for Buffalo 39 s economy.

Buffalo NY The call to eliminate Buffalo 39 s Skyway is getting some nationwide assistance. George Hotel C 450 Worth. buffalo location industrial and organization garbage disposal Sustainability is great for service. A shame because I love the skyway. quot Removal of the Skyway Church Street to Prime The Buffalo Skyway seen here around 1956 opened in 1955.

Apply to Owner Operator Chauffeur Expediter Server and more Jan 30 1977 The Skyway and Father Baker Bridge to Lackawanna wero still closed. graffiti removal business. 1 mile long Buffalo Skyway in Erie County New York City. Get Hamburg Supercenter store hours and driving directions buy online and get in store at 5360 Southwestern Blvd Hamburg NY 14075 or call 716 646 0682 Levi 39 s Trucker 39.

To get a quote for your scrap automobile or if you have any questions or concerns please call 855 782 3777. 29 Aug 2020 Buffalo N. A piece of the nbsp 1 Oct 2019 The Buffalo waterfront has actually constantly been among our state 39 s excellent possessions and by removing the existing Skyway we will lay the structure for nbsp The opening of the Buffalo Skyway in October 1955 was an event for to the area 39 s economy - graffiti removal business.

9 million. 17 Sep 2019 BUFFALO N. 19s. graffiti removal business. Aug 31 2012 The Buffalo Skyway was initially called quot High Level Bridge quot a description of the function of getting the road over the Buffalo River. buffalo skyway elimination.

How Do I Choose A Graffiti Removal Company Service?

Removing graffiti isn't a job you can manage by yourself. You require professional help from professionals who comprehend how to completely and effectively do this job. First, it's generally needed to use specialized agents and cleaning agents when getting rid of graffiti (graffiti removal business). You may not know which are ideal for your needs.

You might put your health (or the health of anyone else on your home) at threat if you don't utilize the best choice. Even if you do select a safe cleaner, it might not be strong enough to yield outcomes. You don't have to stress over that when you work with NYC Power Wash - graffiti removal business.

We likewise understand how some exterior surface areas are more delicate than others, taking actions to ensure we don't cause any unneeded damage that you might easily trigger if you attempted to get rid of graffiti without the required experience. Your own schedule is another aspect worth considering. Without the right tools and proficiency, eliminating graffiti can take a long time. graffiti removal business.

How Much Should I Pay For Graffiti Removal Techniques Services?

" I had been searching for somebody to power wash my deck and the shed that's on it. As I was looking through an online expert service site, I came across Advanced Power Washing. I called, scheduled https://g.page/graffitiremovalnyc?share Mike (who is merely terrific, by the way) to come and provide me a price quote.

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What Is The Best Graffiti Removal Techniques Service?

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The communities with greater graffiti grievances are generally situated in lower Manhattan (Chinatown, East Village, SoHo, Lower East Side) and Washinton Heights, many locations in Queens, Brooklyn and Bronx that are close to Manhattan (Bedford, Williamsburg, Greenpoint, Hunters Point, Astoria, Mott Haven, Hunts Point, etc), and some other places in external boroughs (Sunset Park, Bay Ridge, Borough Park, East New York, Jackson Heights, Elmhurst, Jamaica, Westchester, etc). graffiti removal business.

Graffiti artists discover early not to get too attached. Ephemera is as main to their medium as spray paint. Some works last months, others don't make it through the night - graffiti removal business. Even the most famous pieces are not guaranteed to last. Much of the specifying works of the late 1960s and 1970s in New York City" DONDI" covered around the side of a whole train vehicle, "TAKI 183" sprayed on a brick facadehave been lost, painted over, or taken apart entirely.

All of that made the demolition of 5Pointz, a famous graffiti venue in Long Island City, Queens, a not likely battlefield for the soul of the art type. In the early 2000s, the derelict warehouse at 4546 Davis Street ended up being a haven for graffiti artists, thanks to an unusual arrangement. With the five-story complex in sparse usage considering that the 1970s and totally empty considering that 2009, the artist Jonathan Cohenwhose tag is Meres Onestruck a handle the structure's owner, Gerald "Jerry" Wolkoff: Artists who wished to paint big, intensive jobs could do so on the structure's outside without running afoul of anti-graffiti laws, which had been ratcheted up throughout Mayor Rudy Giuliani's reign in the 1990s.

Graffiti artists, including the British artist Banksy, shouted for the website's conservation, while New Yorkers lamented the sacrifice of another cultural artifact on the altar of the city's real-estate development device. graffiti removal business. Under cover of darkness in November of that year, Wolkoff made the most of a stalled court injunction to have the structure whitewashedover a decade's worth of art work gone over night.

youtube

75 million in total damages. The settlement, which is under appeal, was hailed as a success for the artists. But it likewise signified a strange new chapter in the history of graffiti. In the early days, by creed, a graffiti artist would ask neither for permission nor settlement. Now, after courting the former, artists at 5Pointz were receiving the latter.

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 5 years ago

Photo

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/the-astrology-of-2020-part-2/

The Astrology of 2020: Part 2

By Sarah Varcas

Imagine That….

All dates are UT

If you’re seeking some astrological background to the current moment please read my January update hereand my Uranus in Taurus update here.

It goes without saying that we’re living amidst intense times. Fear is rife, isolation everywhere and contradictory information and opinion abounds, clarifying one minute, confusing the next. Communities are in lock-down (how easily that word has become an everyday utterance) and no one knows quite what happens next. A deepening unease is growing. Something in our world is very wrong which surpasses the apparent threat of physical disease. Rectification has long been needed on this planet and the current state of affairs is, in its own strange way, delivering it. Rivers are running clearer. The air is cleaner. Bird song can be heard in cities, usually drowned out by the roar of engines and machinery. Mother Nature continues business as usual, while the human race locks itself away. From our mass withdrawal, nature benefits. This tells us something we cannot ignore for a second longer. We have been a virus on this planet for way too long and must heal ourselves before it’s too late.

The Pause

Despite first appearances, we live in a time of opportunity, of fundamental and irreversible change. Things are never quite as they seem, nor as clear cut as they first appear. Truths are surfacing, along with the fear. As is compassion, innovation and a deeper sense of community as a gathering stillness spreads across the globe. The pause button has been pushed. We are being reset. Imagine if this made 2020 the year the human race recognised so deeply our destructive force upon this planet that we collectively vowed to change right here, right now, and halt this unending march to destruction? Imagine all it took was this one global pause that brought us up short and opened every eye….

Current planetary activity certainly speaks of the potential for great challenge and deep healing in equal measure. Truth rises like a bubble, shattering the hardened surface of complacency or denial. No one expected to be where we are so quickly. Of course, many fear for their own life or the lives of loved ones right now, but amidst this planetary panic all efforts to hold the collective space and maintain clarity contribute calmer ripples to the global pool. Every moment of peace aids rebalancing of the collective scales.

Fear is also a virus, and a highly contagious one! We don’t even need to be in physical proximity to catch it. It passes through the airwaves and the internet, over the phone, in text messages and videos. Through the TV and radio. And it’s tough to build immunity to it. It seems the more exposed to it we are, the more fearful we become. That’s why it’s important to take extra care of ourselves and each other right now. To be gentle and kind, to consider those who struggle the most. For some isolation is a panacea that creates feelings of safety. For others, an existential threat to a fragile stability held in place by the grounding nature of social connections, now severed amidst a climate of uncertainty and fear.

The Solution

We’re all part of the cause and the solution. The multifarious aspects of our world are so intertwined it isn’t possible to stand apart and claim no share in its fabric. Neptune still travelling through its own sign of Pisces reminds us we each arise from and return to the same source. We wrap our body and mind, heart and soul, around our presence and call it ‘me’. We feel ourselves as individuals, which we are at a relative level. But in the absolute we are simply parts of a whole, each uniquely fashioned to play its’ specific part. Reflection on this inter-connectedness is vital now, to counter any movement toward polarisation, ‘dog-eat-dog’ mentality or the alarming ‘every person for themselves’ approach which has emptied shop shelves and left the most vulnerable struggling to get by.

But with Jupiter about to conjunct Pluto (5thApril 2020), both squared by Erisnever has there been a more potent time for breakdown to become breakthrough or tragedy to become triumph. Unlike the single Saturn/Pluto conjunction of January 2020this conjunction occurs three times (the next two being 30thJune and 12thNovember 2020) reflecting a lengthier process of adjustment and recalibration than the sudden shift in January. Having arrived swiftly in our new Saturn/Pluto terrain we’re now in the orientation process, discovering how things work in this strange new world and just how influential we can be in its future shaping.

Jupiter speaks to us of learning through experience, of discovering the greater truths of this life through living it with an open heart and a mind to match. It reminds us there’s always more to know, to experience and to wonder at. Jupiter keeps us ever expanding, nudging us to explore beyond our comfort zone and embrace what we find there. It’s little wonder, then, that as Jupiter conjuncts Pluto – Lord of the Underworld – most people are feeling pushed to some degree or other outside of their personal safe zone!

The Power

Jupiter’s current alliance with Pluto begins a thirteen-year process of unearthing both the darkest aspects of humanity’s shadow and the most transformative energies available. In Capricorn, it affirms that pragmatic self-reliance is key to our journey ahead, whilst the North Node still in Cancerreminds us we are all part of the One Self, reliant upon each other too. What we do for each other we do for ourselves. Neither Jupiter nor Pluto would dream of giving their power away. And nor must we, especially not to fear. Which isn’t the same as denying or suppressing it. But we can know our feelings without giving them the final say on how we behave and the choices we make. Jupiter and Pluto invite us to discover just how expansive we can be around fear, just how vast we can become, giving it space to be without it defining all that we are.

We can all do this. But we can’t do it alone. We mustn’t let isolation define us nor let it deteriorate into fear and recrimination, blame or finger-pointing. Isolation is a behaviour, not a state of being. We’re all trying to get through this the best way we can and some may make mistakes. There will be differences of opinion about what’s needed, what’s happening and what to do about it. But still we are one and can join hands in spirit even when we can’t in the physical! Open hearts and expansive minds can prepare us to entertain new possibilities rather than calcify in fear.

Mars is conjunct Saturn in Aquarius with both trined by Venus at the first Jupiter/Pluto conjunction. Here we see the potential for innovation – a chance to birth sound and solid ideas about how to move us all forward out of this time of fear. If you’re stuck at home, perhaps it’s time to write that book you always said you would, work on that invention you’ve had in the offing forever, come up with a new business plan, rethink your career, write poetry, paint, dance, write some new jokes, pen a few letters, spring clean, dig the garden. Or simply spend time with yourself, in the quiet of isolation, listening to the still small voice within so often drowned out in the modern age. You may be surprised at what it says about these days.

The Renewal

This time makes mystics of us all, retreating into our inner worlds as we withdraw from the outer one. Who knows what will be revealed if we allow ourselves to settle into the stillness and silence, what pearls of wisdom await on the edge of awareness for a time such as this? Jupiter and Pluto have so much to reveal this year: great wisdom, deep truth and astounding potential. We mustn’t let the narrative of fear drown any of that out or blind us to the pure possibility of each moment. And even fear can be a wise teacher if we let it.

Mars conjunct Saturn in Aquarius tells us to hold our nerve and stay strong. We need a bold new perspective to move forward from here, not a return to the old ways once this time has passed. We can only move forward. There is no other direction now. The world has changed in the blink of an eye, but we are the real change, waiting in the wings like caterpillars in a chrysalis. As the world retreats we liquify in our isolation chamber, awaiting re-emergence when the time is right. Jupiter and Pluto say it might be a while before we can stretch those wings, but when we do…oh my! What a beautiful sight they will be……

Sarah Varcas

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