#hence the preference for complete truth

[byanyan]

MUSE PREFERENCES

Please repost, don’t reblog.

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Inspired by [X]

tagged by:ㅤ@cxpperhead ty again!! ♡

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: twisters

authors note: i can't remember or find which ask, but at some point, we discussed aroha interrupting roso's shower time. that inspired this lil oneshot.

hope you enjoy!

warnings: super light sexy time.

words: 3.2k

masterlist

“These damn kids are giving me all this gray hair.”

Solana looks over her shoulder to see her husband inspecting his salt and pepper beard in their bathroom mirror. 

Rolling her eyes, she walks over and hugs him from behind, kissing the back of his tatted shoulder. “Baby, you were starting to go gray when I married you.”

Something she's always loved about him and found attractive. One of many things she loves about him and still finds attractive.

At a truth he cannot deny, Roman instead opts for rationalization. “Yeah, well they’re not fucking helping.”

Giggling, she steps away to pull her shirt over her head. “Whatever you say, mi amor. Whatever you say.” Solana continues to remove her clothes until she’s left in nothing but skin, walking over to their massive walk-in shower, stepping in and twisting the knob to turn on the water. She plays around with the temperature as Roman also undresses, shortly joining her right as the temperature settles into her preferred number.

Turning around, she sees Roman hissing, bringing a small smile to her face. “All these years later, and you still like to damn near burn us.”

She giggles, reaching her arms up and around his neck. “And you’re still just as dramatic.” Connecting their lips for a kiss, Solana feels his hands moves down to her ass, pulling her against him, his flaccid penis pressed against her stomach. Breathing into his mouth, water drenching both of them, she whispers, “you know it’s been a couple days…”

He makes a sound, squeezing her ass. “Too long.”

Smiling against him, she reminds what he already knows, “all the kids are down for bed, too.”

“Hmm.” He hums, starting to back her against the closest wall, his finger trailing from her backside to her front, fingers ghosting over the short curls on her apex. “What should we do then?”

Solana gasps, eyes fluttering shut as she gently bites down on his bottom lip. “You tell me.”

Roman’s groan is followed up with him quickly turning her around, Solana’s mouth dropping open at being pressed against the shower wall, his strong, wet body pushed up behind her, the feel of his hardening dick on the small of her back.

“I have a couple ideas,” he murmurs, pressing open mouthed kisses on the back of her neck, trailing down her back, his hand moving to spread her thighs.

“Baby…” She moans, fingers scraping the wall. “Please.”

His deep voice chuckles, mouth atop her ass, hand spreading her cheeks. “Please what, sweetheart?”

She groans, forehead against the wall, the shower doors steamed all around them and not just from the humidity of the shower. 

“Roman—”

Her eyes begin to shut once more when three, hard, successive knocks completely pull both herself and her husband from the moment. “Mommy! Daddy!”

Solana turns around, Roman now standing up, his eyes shut from obvious irritation. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Solana clears her throat and manages the best normal tone one can achieve in that sort of situation. “What’s wrong, Roro?”

Another question versus an answer followed by the door being jiggled, hence why both Roman and Solana opted years ago to make sure that that damn bathroom door stays locked no matter what. “What are you guys, doing?”

“Nothing, now.” 

Solana casts a small glare to Roman’s back, his body now turned away from her, hands on the shower wall as he works to calm himself. 

“Baby, what do you need?”

Solana already has a good idea, but there’s a small part of her that’s hoping it’s not that, even though she knows exactly what that is. “Can I sleep with you?”

At that, Roman breaks his silence. “No, Roro, you’ve already slept with us twice this week.”

There’s an emphasis on the twice and understandably so. The parents have been working to help their youngest sleep in her own bed more nights than not, given a recent increase over the past few months of Aroha finding her way into their bedroom—and bed—in the middle of the night.

One of the methods to deter this has been limiting her sleeping with them to two nights a week, and as she’s already utilized both, her “freebies” are all gone. 

Not that she really cares about that.

“But, daddy—”

“No, Aroha.” Roman stands ten toes down, clearly dedicated to the agreement they all made and she was “okayish” with at the time. “Now, go to your room, and go back to bed. We’ll see you in the morning.” 

Naturally, Roro goes for her emergency line. “Mommy!”

Unfortunately, it’s a no-go, as both parents are on the same page. “You heard your daddy, Aroha. Go back to sleep, mija.”

An expected whine, protest, and stomp from outside the door followed by the sound disappearing altogether, signifying her departure. 

Roman still braced against the wall, Solana moves to stand behind and hug him. “You think we were too hard on her?” She feels him tense under her, prompting her to mumble a quiet ‘sorry.”

Poor choice of words.

He sighs. “She has to learn, babe. We don’t get this under control, she’ll be sleeping with us until she’s 10, and we can’t have that.” 

Solana is the one to sigh this time. He’s right. She knows he’s right. It’s just difficult, because all of their kids, sans Koa and Kai, have all gone through some phase like this, wanting to sleep with them. Especially the OG’s. But, that was often limited to when one parent was out of town, or Leya’s OCD was particularly bad. It’s also never been as frequent as it’s been with Aroha these past few months.  

They’re doing what’s necessary.

Dancing her fingers down his glistening back, Solana attempts to revive the mood. “I think…I think she’s gone now.”

Roman chuckles underneath her, prompting her smile to grow. 

If only it wasn’t temporary. 

“Roro, get out of our rooms!”

The sound of Kai yelling angrily pulls both mother and father from their attempt as husband and wife time. 

Solana shuts her eyes as Roman knocks his head against the wall. 

“I’m not in your room!" Aroha shouts back, mother and father practically able to see the the cave of her brows and scowl that’s 100% Roman. 

“Yes, you are!” Koa disputes, also something that can be visualized as an annoyed outburst through a closed door.

“No, I’m not!” Another staunch defense followed by an explanation. “I’m waiting for Tama!”

At that, Roman and Solana frown. What does she want with Tama?

Finally realizing and accepting the moment is long gone, Roman straightens, Solana backing away from him as he goes to shut off the shower. “Every fucking time…”

“Baby…” She warns, the two exiting their shared shower and drying off as much as possible before throwing their clothes back on, Roman the first to unlock and head out. 

She blows out a breath, not far behind him as they walk into the boys wing of the house to see Aroha standing in the middle of the hall, holding her "blankie" and stuffed bear, clearly upset. Koa and Kai stand in the doorway of their respective rooms that are right across from each other. 

Roman places his hands on his hips. “Aroha, what are you doing?”

She pouts, pointing to Koa but speaking of both. “They’re being mean to me!”

“No, we’re not,” Koa scoffs, looking over at his parents, pointing to his sister. “She’s bothering us.”

Aroha doesn’t skip a beat, protesting. “No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!” 

“Enough,” Roman’s deep voice travels the hall, silencing the three of them. A heavy sigh leaving him as he moves to kneel in front of a clearly upset Aroha. “Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is lowered and softer, clearly recognizing what Solana is also seeing is more than just her wanting to sleep with them.

Aroha pouts, answering in a soft voice as she clutches her teddy bear. “I wanna sleep with Tama, but he’s in the bathroom.”

Solana frowns. “Still?” Her oldest son was in the shower about half an hour before she and Roman got in. “What’s he doing in there?”

At that, Koa and Kai snicker, muttering, “you don’t wanna know.”

Her frown deepens. 

What does that mean?

However, Roman remains focused on the issue at hand. “Why do you want to sleep with Tama?”

She starts to sniffle, signifying tears are coming. “He said he’d protect me from the twisties.” 

Now, Roman is frowning. “Twisties? What are twisties?”

She sniffles once more, pointing up, voice high and soft, “the things from the sky that suck people up and make them go bye bye.” Her explanation is both clarifying and confusing, as she shakes her head. “I don’t want them to come get me.”

It’s that last sentence along with her gaze dropping to the ground, face turning red that puts the last piece together. “You’re scared…”

One more sniffle followed by her face turning up into a frown, and then the waterworks. Roman quickly pulls her into his arms right as she begins to cry loudly. “It’s okay, baby,” he comforts, kissing her temple and walking her over to Solana. 

Aroha continues to sob as Solana takes her, also kissing and comforting her. She shoots her husband a glance, an unspoken, “I’ve got her,” as she turns to take their youngest to the master bedroom, clearly to get her settled. 

Roman waits until he hears the door close to turn around, jaw clenching and flexing as he looks at his two youngest sons. “You—” He points to Kai. “And you—” Then, Koa. “In the kitchen.”

Expected protests. “But, dad–”

“Now.” Roman’s tone leaves no room for protest as he moves down the hall, banging on Tama’s bathroom door. 

“What the he—”

“Get your ass downstairs in the kitchen now.” Another statement of finality. Roman then moves over to the girls wing of the house, banging on Lina’s door, waiting to hear her groans on the other end before he directs her. “Get up. Wake up Aria, and go to the kitchen.” 

Roman last hears the sound of his eldest daughter groaning and cursing before he heads toward the staircase when he sees Leya’s door open. 

She frowns, rubbing her eyes. “Daddy, what’s going on?”

Roman walks over and cups her face. “Nothing.” His voice is gentler, eyes softening. “Something I need to handle with your siblings. You didn’t do anything wrong, baby. Go back to sleep.”

Because if there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s that if Leya was somehow involved, she was surely the one trying to talk her brothers and sisters out of it. She’s not complicit, therefore, she doesn’t need to be a part of this.

Leya, understandably, looks confused but simply nods with a quiet ‘okay,’ heading back to bed and closing the door behind her. 

Roman takes another deep breath before heading down the steps and into the kitchen where Koa and Kai sit around the island, irritated as all outdoors. 

“Fix your faces.”

They do so by turning away, clearly wanting the privacy to sulk in private. Roman blows out a breath, glancing at the time on the microwave. 

2:10.

His eyes shut. 

Of course.

But, a few minutes later, more footsteps followed by Aria, of course, complaining.

“Do you guys have any idea how disruptive this is to my sleep routine?” She complains, some kind of fucking sleeping eye mask sitting on her forehead. “It’s unforgivable.”

Roman bites back a smartass reply. His middle child is so damn dramatic.

Lina, however, rolls her eyes, completely ignoring Aria and straight up asks, “what is this about?”

Tama is also infestered. And, irritated. “Yeah, I was….busy.” 

Roman smartly decides to not comment on Tama’s statement. “Sit down,” he directs, offering no answer just yet. 

The remaining three do so, all five looking equally sleepy and annoyed but mostly curious to know just what has them all being summoned at such an ungodly hour.

Good.

Satisfied he has their attention, Roman gets straight to it. “Whose damn idea was it to let your sister watch Twister?” The irritation almost instantly shifts into shocked and nervous gazes, each suddenly avoiding eye contact. 

The minute Aroha started to describe the “twisties,” the Tribal Chief already knew what had happened and why they were in that damn situation in the first place.

“Now ya’ll suddenly don’t know how to speak?” Roman mocks, shaking his head, voice even. “I’m not gon’ ask again.”

It only takes him using that tone for the easiest of the bunch to break.

Samaria lifts her arm, pointing to the twins. “It was their idea!”

Koa and Kai look thoroughly surprised and irritated. “No, it wasn’t!” They gesture to Tama and Lina. “They said she could handle it!”

Busted, Tama lifts his hands almost defensively, pleading his case. “We thought she could!”

“She’s six,” Roman says, like it should be the easiest thing in the world, because it should be. “What the hell made ya’ll think she could handle a movie about fucking twisters?”

Lina groans, elbow on the table, chin in hand. “Daddy, she wouldn’t leave us alone.”

Tama nods. “Yeah, we kept trying to get her to go to her playroom, but she wanted to be around us.”

Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. “So then, you should have put something else on for her.”

Koa scowls. “What? Like Frozen?” 

“I don’t care if it’s fucking Melted, put it on for her.” Lord, these kids really are trying to send him to an early grave. “Ya’ll keep letting her watch shit she shouldn’t be watching, and then your mom and I have to deal with the repercussions, and I’m sick of it.” 

Because, this isn’t the first time this has happened. It was some other sort of disaster movie before this and a horror movie before that one. His older kids seem to think it’s okay to let the baby of the family watch these adult themed shows and movies and don’t care because most nights, Aroha isn't waking them up. She's seeking comfort from her parents. Hence, her wanting to sleep with them more than usual. 

And, he’s over it.

It seems his serious tone as well as the overall frustration radiating off his big body seems to start to penetrate the kids' incomprehension.

Samaria is the first to apologize, shoulders dropped, “sorry, dad.”

Sentiments echoed by the other kids, Lina speaking up and also taking accountability. “I guess we didn’t really think about that.”

Clearly. But, there’s less of a desire to further stress his point and more of a willingness to try to meet them halfway. “I know your sister can be a lot at times, but if she’s giving you a hard time, you need to tell me or your mom. Don’t just try to handle it on your own.”

Aroha may be his little girl, and he may be blind to some of her misbehavior at points, but Roman also knows how demanding and…difficult she can be with her siblings. He can just imagine her damn near obstinate and refusing to leave her brothers and sisters alone until they caved and let her watch these movies, not realizing the impact they’ll have on her later.

But also, that’s not really something he wants his other kids to have to deal with. One thing he and Solana have always been big on is never putting them in a position where they feel like they have to play parent. Any of the kids. OG’s, Samaria, or even Koa and Kai. 

Yes, naturally, some of the kids gravitate to one another. Like how Samaria likes to hang out with Lina or Aroha hangs on Tama a lot. However, there’s a difference between big brother and little sister or little sister shadowing big sister and that.

Roman and Solana would rather be on the verge of a stroke from all that stress than put that pressure onto his kids, because at the end of the day, he and Solana opted to have this big family. As parents, it’s their responsibility to be parents. They never want to do anything to take away from the kids just being kids.

So, he knows a conversation with Aroha will also need to take place regarding her understanding that she can’t always do what the big kids do. Plain and simple. 

“We won’t let her watch anything else inappropriate with us, dad.” Tama speaks up, Roman recognizing the shift in his demeanor. Less irritated. More understandable. Mature, almost. “Promise.”

“And, you guys need to stop being so mean to her,” Lina crosses her arms, looking over at her little brothers. “You know she’s sensitive.”

“Not our problem,” Koa mutters, groaning when Samaria pinches his arm. “Ow!”

“She’s just a little kid,” Samaria defends, looking around the island. “We all need to do better.”

“And, your mom and I are going to talk with her.” That’s a given. Even if Roman has to bite his pride and allow her to start having more playdates over at the house, then that’s just what needs to happen. 

Tama and Lina give him a nod, signifying understanding and appreciation. 

“Alright, ya’ll can go back to bed.” Sounds of appreciation for a different reason that only deepens when Roman adds on, “and don’t worry about school tomorrow. You can stay home.” 

Because it's been a long night and disturbing their sleep, then forcing them to get up to go to school all day seems unfair. One missed day of school won’t kill them. 

Cheers and “thank you, daddy!” from his daughters, especially Samaria, who says something about her sleep needs being “restored” as they all walk off one by one to head upstairs, back to bed. 

He does the same, returning to his master bedroom where he’s both relieved and unsurprised to find Solana still up, laying in bed, Aroha cuddled up next to her sound asleep, teddy bear beside her. 

Solana lays her eyes on him as she gently caresses their youngest forehead. “Well?”

Roman sits on the side of the bed, careful to not disturb Aroha, though something tells him she’ll be out for the rest of the night. “They let her watch Twister.”

Solana’s jaw drops. “What? Why—”

“I know, I know,” he cuts her off, gently, offering explanation. “I talked to them all though, and they know not to let watch her anything else inappropriate.” Solana looks slightly relieved by this, Roman reaching out to caress Aroha’s hand that rests on her mother’s chest, clutching almost. “But, baby, we gotta talk to her, too. She wants to do everything her brothers and sisters do—”

“But, she’s too little,” Soalna finishes, kissing Aroha’s bonnet covered head. “I know. I figured.” She nods. “We’ll do it tomorrow…keep her home?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I told the other ones they could stay home, too.” 

As expected, she offers no protest, chewing on her bottom lip. She speaks a minute later, voice almost tentative. “You ever wish we had another ki—”

“Don’t even say that shit, Sol.” While Roman looks borderline mortified at just the unfinished question, Solana simply giggles. “You say it, next thing you know, your ass ends up pregnant again.”

She rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure it doesn’t work that way, Ro.”

“It does for you.”

Solana shakes her head. “Don’t worry, my love. It was just a thought.” She watches as he climbs in the bed beside herself and Aroha. “We’re too old for that now. Our days of pregnancies are long over.” 

[boosnotes]

Would you love me if I was a squid?

Shadow x reader

Genre: fluff/comfort Warnings: none A/n: doom morph shadow lives in my mind rent free, if the theory that the next arc of idw is about shadow and the black arm, I'm gonna shit myself so bad.

"would you love me if I was a squid?" Were the first words said after hours of silence, your eyes widened back open, the planned sleep long forgotten now that your mind was occupied processing that stupid question. You turned around to look at him, knowing there wouldn't be much of a difference; even so, the sincere look in his eyes made your bewilderment deeper; this was the last thing you thought coming out from his mouth, ever.

"Ummm... What?" You weren't able to soften up your answer;

it was too late to be in a socially acceptable mode, and the filter was not even in your head at the moment. It was strange of him to fuck up a saying or joke; he somehow always knew how it went when you messed one up, not wasting any time correcting you with a smirk. You felt his hands dig into your skin, quietly enough to not hurt, merely enough that make you notice his sharp claws on you; he told you silently he was nervous. Just as he was about to repeat the question, you interrupted him. "You do know that's not how it goes, right?"

Now he was the one confused, his eyebrows furrowed as he faintly spoke. "I don't know what you are talking about." You were waiting for the punchline, he was shit at making jokes, but despite that, you still loved him, a bit less, yet enough to be together. Hence, you stared at him blankly, nothing behind your eyes; you wanted to sleep, and you also felt bad for him; it was one of those times he didn't know how to express himself, probably.

Yet another silence sank, the relaxing mood was out of the window, replaced by the bamboozlement of you both. He let out an annoyed unsteady sigh, releasing some of the nerving feelings he had inside, not comfortable confronting you with something he hated the most about himself. He just whispered in an almost inaudible tone. "Just... Answer, please..."

"I would prefer it if you were an octopus." you wholeheartedly answered, squids kinds suck, though he'd find a way to make it cool. All this was out of the comfort zone of both of you, it made it all weird and uncomfortable; you didn't know what to make out of these questions that were so un-him; he, on the other hand, was still dealing with the recent acquirement of these new powers, the fact they depended on Black Doom scared him, especially for your well being, it meant that he was still inside of him and could come out and hurt you any moment.

"I'm being serious right now." he frowned, hurt from not being taken seriously; it took him a lot of time to open up, now are you going to let him down? After all this time? He was getting disappointed in you, he believed you'd flow with him as you always did, get him instantly. Was this the wrong time? They said at night is when people are most truthful from the tiredness.

"Are you..?" Your heart broke at his timid nod, his eyes softened as he look away; you had fucked up, you had to do better, you cannot be a bitch with him in this state. You gently placed your warm hand against his cold cheek and made him look back at you, your expression had completely changed towards a more affectionate one, encouraging him to talk more.

"What about a starfish?" He gingerly spoke, just like a turtle coming out of its shell after being scared into it. The questions were still in that weird line of thought, even though you didn't have the luxury to tease him anymore, you were too deep into his heart to punch it once more.

"Yeah, starfish are cooler... What's the point of this?" You were still confused by all this sea-life talk; you don't even think he's ever been to a beach, maybe you should take him one day. Your fingers formed circles against his cheek, making sure to go under the muzzle fur. The atmosphere changed from the uneasy one to a more caring one, still delicate despite the newfound openness from the two of you; it was tricky like walking on a glass floor, any wrong movement making it possible to break and fall into the void, but you choose to walk it nonetheless, with him.

"I recently learned that my... original form isn't this one..." he muttered, his body language telling you he was getting more relaxed, opening little by little like a flower blooming in spring. And so you took in every image he demonstrated, studying all his movements at the last moment for the most important test of your life.

"You choose to be a hedgehog?" Your curiosity had picked up with that comment; now everything was slowly connecting, and the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into the right places as important ones appeared. Shadow's demeanor had calmed down, seeing you weren't being judgemental yet, but there was always that possibility the more he told you. He tried to find the best words to not scare you away, settling with going little by little, and the things you didn't ask, were going to be for a future talk if there was one.

"Gerald chose for me." He never understood why a hedgehog, but compared to the prototype of a giant lizard, he was glad he could function independently. He knew that was an idea entirely from Gerald Robotnik, Black Doom never seemed to have connections with any hedgehog, or at least from what he knew. Some things were still out of his reach, another mission to get that information started bubbling in the back of his mind.

"What would you be if you could choose?" You wandered the conversation away a bit, leaving some space for mindless talking with an attempt of soothing, even if it's just for a little bit. He hummed in contemplation, never had he thought of being anything other than what had been chosen for him, his job was being the ultimate life form after all.

"A cat." He confessed shyly, it felt so foreign to think about what ifs, he was used to, but it didn't involve so meaningless. He had a strange fascination with them, and the ones he met brought him respect. He didn't interact with Blaze a lot, she was friends with Sonic and indulged him a little too often in his requests for his taste, despite fighting him in the past just like him; apart from that she was a respectable being; Big had this aura of tranquility around him, only caring about his closest friend, Froggy; he did everything to make him still be by his side and succeeded; Also, somehow he put one of his rare smiles on his face, something only you did.

"I'd adore you as a cat." You smile with warmth, finding the idea of Shadow as a cat adorable. You never thought about it, but he did act like one, hissing at everyone who tried getting near him without wanting to and never letting go of the ones he liked while also not showing them directly. "So... you are a fish?"

"Black Arms' original form is Starfish-like creatures, but my powers inherited from him gave me other options..." His tone was shameful, he talked about it like it wasn't part of him, as an objective fact of another race, yet the doubt that lingered at the end of every sentence betrayed that. It truly wasn't part of him; on his own, he didn't have the power to use those abilities, whereas the now confirmed fact that Black Doom still lingered somewhere deep hidden made it possible. He heard you hum, pondering while not really, not staring at anything in particular, just lost in thought while concentrating on stroking his cheek.

"Then... I'd still love you if you were a squid." Shadows' concerns eased, a big weight lifted from his shoulder, even if it wasn't completely true, he could hold onto this moment. His body slumped down, settling in your chest, simply wanting to feel your heartbeat and nothing else. He murmured a little "thank you" that you were barely able to hear; you patted his head with such compassion, shushing him softly a lovely lullaby to forget all his anxiety, helping him fall into the sweet nothingness of dreams. After some time, you felt him unconsciously making cushions against your chest; you let a soft smile as your eyes shined in admiration. You really loved him if he was a squid or a cat.

[geekgirles]

My in-denial, tin foil hat theory back when Phantoms ended and they hinted at the Sanctuary arc being the next thing they would adapt (hence, there were more chances than ever that Wally might come back), but we still didn't know it would be the last season of Young Justice was that, somehow, the writers had been playing the Flinx long game all along.

I can't lie, I 100% am a Teen Titans 2003 truther and those two changed my brain chemistry forever.

However, personal preferences aside, please, let me explain. Because I do have reasons rooted in the narrative to believe this could have been a possible path.

I would like to preface this by saying that I have nothing but mad respect for Spitfire shippers, and I completely understand they would want their own show-original ship to come back rather than a second iteration of the Teen Titans original one. The only reason I am even suggesting they could have gone this path is because, tragically, bringing Spitfite back might have resulted in a mockery of Artemis' own character development since season 2.

Ever since Wally's death, Artemis' personal journey has been marked by tragedy, loss, separation, and learning to cope with it all. The most obvious case being her struggles to move on from losing Wally, but Jade abandoning her family and forcing Artemis to step up as Lian's mother figure also played a key role. And even though she was shown doing so much better in Phantoms, the news of Conner's apparent death threw a wrench to all that.

Which is why I think that suddenly bringing her and Wally back together had he been trapped in the Speed Force and able to return would be such a major disservice to her character. Like, "Yeah, you had to learn to live without the love of your life and to rebuild said life on your own. And you did it! Good job. ...you can have him back now, we put you through the wringer for nothing jk jk."

And then, there's Wally's side in all this.

To be completely honest, I love DC but I'm not nearly as well-versed in its lore and elements as more hardcore fans, so I could be wrong about this. But depending on the source they worked with or even their own artistic licenses, for all we know, Wally could have not aged a day since he entered the Speed Force. While everyone else around him grew up. That could certainly make things awkward. I mean, imagine his reaction upon finding out he's suddenly younger than Dick!

In fact, he doesn't even need to remain the same age for things to change drastically for him in regards to the people in his life. Even if he aged inside the Speed Force, it wouldn't change the fact that he spent over five years away from everything. His life might have been put on hold, but his friends and family moved on.

Artemis had to move on from him and started seeing someone else.

Barbara became wheelchair bound and donned the mantle of Oracle.

Zatanna now has protegés of her own and they all take turns to become Doctor Fate.

Conner and M'gann got married after months thinking he was dead, when in truth, he had been saved by heroes from the future and remained trapped in the Phantom Zone alongside genocidal Kryptonian prisoners...

No matter how you look at it, Wally would not have been able to fit back in as easily as if he'd never left.

Which, added to the Sanctuary plotline, could have been more than enough reason to send him there to learn to cope and heal from his experiences while the rest of the Team grapple with the idea of finally having him back yet... not quite.

How did I manage to somehow include Flinx in all this, you may ask?

Well, ever since season 3, it's been established that all heroes are constantly looking for and trying to help dormant metahumans who'd been kidnapped and experimented on in order to awaken their metagenes. It is a given that many of these people would be sent to the Sanctuary, where Wally could meet them. So, why not Jinx?

I always found it a little annoying that Young Justice's iteration of the Fearsome Five never included her. I mean, I seem to remember they changed Martians' super strength for telekinesis because they didn't want to have too many characters with similar powers, and yet Psimon's team ended up having four members with super strength and no magic user.

Not to mention, they already turned Delphis into an Indian girl with supernaturally coloured hair and eyes with magic powers. Seeing as even the comics retconned Jinx's appearance so she'd resemble her cartoon self more, Young Justice doing the same thing and even re-imagining her as a victim of metahuman trafficking instead of an evil sorceress with no past wouldn't necessarily have been that much of a stretch.

It might have been a welcomed change, even.

So maybe the idea of Wally and Jinx meeting each other at the Sanctuary and growing close over how their lives got turned completely upside down in the blink of an eye could have been a possibility. Or maybe I'm just desperate. All options are equally possible.

I have half the mind to not write a fic about this and focus on my current WIP. But if somebody wants to take a crack at this, by all means...

[ordinaryschmuck]

Full Family AU Part 36

"...Excuse me?" Camila's annoyance was quick to return after such an insane request.

"I mean, your couch looks comfy," Eda said. "A bit lumpy, but preferable to that shack in the woods."

"Are you...homeless?" Manny asked next.

"Oh, heck no! I've got a home, just not in, er, your neighborhood. Where me and King came from is under a lot of stress at the moment so we're laying low, hiding out in your realm for the time being."

"Why would you need to lay low?"

"Well..." Eda then dug into her hair and pulled out a wanted poster of herself with her hand aflame. "I'm sort of...wanted. From the law."

"...Oh. Okay." Camila pointed to the door. "Get out."

"Here me out--"

"I am not letting some...some witch criminal live under my roof!"

"I didn't break any major laws!" Eda defended, putting the wanted poster back in her hair. "Just the dumb ones. I didn't join a coven when I graduated magic school, I own a stand without a permit, I have a hocus without a pocus--"

"I don't care how illegal your activities are!" Camila exclaimed. "They're still illegal and I don't want that anywhere near my kids!"

"Speaking of kids, hot dang those daughter of yours are heavy sleepers," Eda noted, looking at the miraculously sleeping Luz and Vee. Even King was surprisingly still asleep. "You've been raising your voice this whole time and they haven't so much as peeped an eye open."

"I know, right--Don't change the subject!" Camila snapped. "You're a criminal!"

"I prefer outlaw."

"That's not better!"

"It at least sounds cooler."

"YOU--!"

"Camila." Manny puts his hands on Camila's shoulders, trying to relax her with a little massage. "Can I speak with you for a second."

Camila growled at Eda once more before relenting to Manny, letting him walk her a few steps away from the wild witch. "You better not try and talk me into hearing her out," Camila whispered.

"I know it might be insane," Manny whispered back, "but it's at least worth considering."

"No, it isn't."

"As far as we know, she comes from the same world Vee does. She might have answers to so many questions that Vee's unable to give. It wouldn't hurt to make nice with someone like that."

"She's a criminal."

"Because she broke laws that don't seem too bad."

"Still a criminal."

"At least she's not dangerous."

"Dangerous or not, she's still a criminal."

"Excuse me," Eda said, interrupting Camila and Manny's little conversation. "Couldn't help but overhear, mainly because you're both some pretty loud whisperers, but is it at least worth considering that I came clean about being wanted? Because the way I see it, I had two options: I could either lie about who I am and cause ya to overreact when the truth somehow came out--'Cause it always does--or I could just put all the cards out on the table and explain myself."

"Well, you're not doing a good job at explaining yourself," Camila said with a scowl.

"Actually, I'd say I'm doing a perfect job. I already told you that the laws I broke weren't anything major. They were just little things that never actually hurt anybody. Well, aside from the coven guards, but trust me when I say that those chumps had it coming."

"So you assaulted your world's version of the authorities."

"Authorities that will either put you in a box that you don't want to be in or petrify you for refusing even that."

"Petrify?" Manny curiously asked.

"Turn you to stone," Eda briefly explained. "It's permanent and ain't exactly pretty."

"That's...awful," Manny voiced sympathetically, to which Eda shrugged.

"It's nothing that'll happen to me, I'll tell you that much. Not as long as I can avoid being caught. Hence me staying in the human realm for a bit and me asking if it's cool if I crash on the couch." Eda focussed on Camila again, who seemed to lessen her frustration a bit, but not enough to relent completely. "What say you, Tiny?"

"Call me that again, and you'll lose more than your head," Camila sternly replied.

"Got it. Sorry."

"And...I'd feel bad under any other circumstance, but something about having a known criminal, even if the laws she broke aren't too awful, is just...too much. For me."

"Oh, for--It's not forever," Eda said, her annoyance showing. "Just for the night. Maybe two. Honestly, I'm only here because my current security system for my house is out sick and needs to 'recooperate.' Don't bother asking me what that means, because I do not want to know. I've learned not to ask him things."

Camila and Manny shared a curious look with each other, not even sure how to tackle that.

"Okay, how about just for tonight, then?" Eda suggested. "Me and my boy just need one break from sleeping in that shack. Can you at least give us that? We'll be out of your hair by morning and you'll never have to see us again. I mean, would you really let that precious little guy out in the cold for that much longer...?"

Eda gestured over to King, still sleeping soundly. Camila narrowed her eyes at him, finally noticing something she was amazed not to have noticed earlier.

"Wait...That's the dog you brought in," she stated.

"Ah, right, you still want payment." Eda started digging in her hair again. "Hang on, let me just--"

"No--I mean, yes. I do want my money. But I want to know is how did you make him look...not like that in the vet?"

"Oh, that?" Eda then blew a raspberry as she waved her hand. "That's nothing more than a simple illusion spell. Any witch with a starter's knowledge of illusion magic could do the same thing."

"You can make fake things seem super real?"

"Up to a point. Can't really make anything tangible. Only real enough where you think you can touch it."

Camila then glanced over to Vee, snoring softly without a worry in the world. Camila looked back at Eda, an idea forming as her worries appeared to have an exit.

"...Do you think you know how to make something like that...permanent?"

[death-in-a-handbasket]

Orpheus analysis please :)c

I've been saving this ask for a while, so while I wait for my ibuprofen to kick in for my sleep deprivation headache, let's get into it shall we?

ahhh orpheus, where to begin where to begin

he's one of those characters where just reading his surv wiki page isn't enough to give you a picture of his character, it barely scratches the surface honestly, in order to get an idea of who he is you have to read a little bit from everyone to peer from outside inwards, he's also got multiple sides to him each with seemingly different goals, so even if you gather info on one facet, that still doesn't answer the behavior on the others. he is both a man of many facades and a man with a fractured mind, his pseudonyms are of his own doing but his brain is also in pieces in ways he didn't intend, frankly you could make a punnett square out of it

in order to understand him, we must take apart all sides, shall we?

let's start chronologically with [REDACTED] blanche, this is the youngest version of orpheus, the son of two forest rangers who worked on the manor property when alice's parents owned it, alice's parents treated him like a son and as such he was raised alongside her, hence why in several of his memories he has the false idea that alice's parents were also HIS parents. in the midst of alice's parents getting murdered it seems he was either not privy to the knowledge that his parents orchestrating this murder or his brain completely ate the knowledge entirely. regardless, after getting shuffled into the orphanage, he created new identities for himself, the novelist, the son of mr deross, he shed the surname of blanche in exchange for the name of orpheus. this version of orpheus is at the manor seeking to recover his childhood memories and find the culprits behind the murder of alice's parents. this side to him is secretive and prefers the comfort of stories and illusions than to face reality, yet he still seeks the truth even while suffocating his many-identitied mind in false plots and false names. perhaps the very reason he believes alice's parents to be his own is because he is drowning himself in the comfort of fantasy until the two are no longer distinguishable

then there's baron deross, a man of many connections and many names, this man is a scientist, this man is playing all sides of the game, this side of orpheus seemingly lacks all desire for knowledge on the deaths of alice's parents. instead, this is a man bent on using people as lab rats, to see how people survive under the influence of drugs, trauma, and interpersonal pressure between teammates. this is the orpheus in cahoots with sam to put people through substances with little regard as to whether they survive or not, only that they provide him data. what he plans to do with this data is up to question, is he seeking to recover something within himself? is he seeking merely to see what drives people to turn against each other in a roundabout way of solving why alice's parents got murdered? there is suggestion that he also seeks what happened to alice as well, as this piece in one of kevin's letters stood out to me. there is a parallel to be found here, upset over a girl that held great meaning and love in the childhood of a man's life only for her to vanish, either into the arms of death or simply never to be seen again

it's hard to discern what he wants, his motives conflict with [REDACTED] blanche's so strangely that it's deeply questionable whether the baron is truly orpheus or is the baron is another character altogether

next is nightmare, which is what happens when mixed intentions encounter a cocktail of drugs, it is orpheus playing god and letting himself loose on people as a monster, this orpheus also has the desire to see what happens to people when put in diabolical situations but lacks the scientific desire to see what yields from them. he is the urge to play god hopped up on a million drugs and warped so far beyond his original personality he's almost entirely divorced from [REDACTED] blanche

finally, we have the detective, what remains of orpheus after the final manor game, an amnesiac with little memory to recall of his life prior to the fire he escaped out of. he has little urge to play god or experiment on people, rather, he is the experiment he's seeking to solve. he wants to get his memories back and learn as to what the young girl in his mind means to him, this time he's not seeking his parents but rather he's seeking alice, a fraction of her from his childhood memories coming back to him and getting misinterpreted as being a daughter he can't remember

with these four parts in mind, it seems that baron deross is what happens when well intentioned knowledge seeking is coupled with darker fantastical desires, the nightmare that haunts detective and is hallucinated by other members is a representation of those dark desires play god the way an author does but brought into reality. detective runs away from it not knowing its part of him, but contacts the other side of his mind--baron deross--for help in recovering his memory. because just as nightmare is a manifestation of his inner darkness, baron deross also still contains parts of [REDACTED] blanche--the part of him that seeks truth with a persevering heart. so by contacting baron deross while he is asleep he is trying to recover [REDACTED] blanche for answers underneath all the layers of drugs, alcohol, facades, and memory problems

at his heart despite all these aspects, there's a few things that do hold strong. he is incredibly resilient and stubborn, prone to using fantasy to cope with reality, but can't seem to ignore his own nagging desires to know the truth. the novels he writes are patterned after real life because even though he wants to immerse himself in unreality, he also can't stop himself from speculating, of questioning human morality and reason. he wants to be a psychologist and a detective but all he has is the mouth of a storyteller so while everything he does yields data, it will always be slightly off because it's always viewed through the warped lens of a writer, a lens in which all things are true and lies simultaneously. all aspects of orpheus are him and yet all of them are equally exaggerated lies holding onto a small shard of the truth

morally gray doesn't even begin to cover this guy, he's schrodingers morality and core motivations

[thenovelartist]

The Reasons Herta Hates Mermoria - Honkai: Star Rail fanfiction

Amphoreus, but DanStelle Series #11 - <<Previous - Next>>

Herta was not happy.

As was the case when an experiment goes array in a way that sets back her countless hours of research. As was the case when an answer was within her reach, only for her to be dragged away on a completely ridiculous errand. As was the case with the simulated universe sitting with a perfectly functional new update, and her preferred little guinea pig wasn’t around to test it. The little twerp had to go get herself lost in a hidden world that not even Herta knew about! Did she not realize how busy Herta was right now trying to contact Nous? Something a slight bit trickier without the new data from aforementioned perfectly functional new update. The timing of this misfortune could not have been worse. After everything Herta had done for that imp, this was how she repaid her? How incredibly inconsiderate!

However, it had to be done. The Astral Express had practically groveled at her feet, and Herta couldn’t risk angering them. They were such a convenient tool, and if she wanted her experiments to go smoothly, she could not afford to neglect the maintenance of tools that made her world run.

Hence, she found herself cracking open one of the strangest mysteries that had fallen into her lap in several amber eras. A world looked upon by multiple aeons, only to be hidden from the cosmos for who-knew-how-long. How dare this inconvenience be fascinating. She couldn’t even be mad!

Her first attempt to crack the barrier of Amphoreus had been a minor success. With her data spirit technology, she’d managed to take a quick peek around and find traces of Stelle and Dan Heng. Then everything fell apart with the appearance of that non-organic lifeform, Lygus. Arrogant robot, assuming to know her well enough to manipulate her. His last threat had been that of a Lord Ravager. It was a calculated warning that would have been sufficient for most people.

But when ever had she been ‘most people’? Ha!

If only to cover her true motives, she’d pretended Lygus had won the argument and retreated with her tail between her legs. In truth, even a genius like her couldn’t be flippant of a Lord Ravager. However, the opposite side of that coin was that a Lord Ravager was able to be defeated or avoided. A true deterrent, it was not. Simply a puzzle that needed to be carefully cracked. A bomb that needed to be strategically disarmed. And who better to ask about bombs than Screwy?

Other than Chadwick, but that was neither here nor there.

Hence she brought Screwllem into the fold, and the two dove into their research head on. Yet, that research… she was not liking where this was going. Noting the characteristics observed from Amphoreus, Screwllem hypothesized that this world was tied to an Emperor’s Scepter.

Aeons above, who would have guessed the thing that slipped through the cracks would grow to become a tragedy ready to explode all over the cosmos? As much as she wanted to dive headlong into this mystery, tackling that vile little piece of equipment, she agreed with Screwllem that their priority was to remove the Nameless asap then solve this mystery before it was too late to stop.

Seeing as her first attempt to enter Amphoreus was even more limiting than she’d originally thought, she and Screwllem organized a second attempt at entry. With Screwllem’s previous research into the innerworkings of another rogue scepter, Herta felt quite confident this entry would be far more successful. After imputing all previous data from her first entry, from Screwllem’s research, and the launch data from the Astral Express itself, Herta and Screwllem projected themselves into Amphoreus.

Herta looked at her surroundings, at a crushed temple barely lit by a couple torches. “What. A. wreck!” she cried, kicking at the rubble by her feet. It didn’t move, of course. She was just a ball of data here with the mission of collecting further data points to more accurately pinpoint the two missing Nameless. “Can’t these people clean up a bit? They have geniuses walking among them.”

“Herta.”

“Yes, Screw—”

She turned around. There, plain as day under the night sky, was the Astral Express car perched on a pile of rubble.

“Well, good to know they had a smooth landing,” she sarcastically drawled.

“Mermoria is often strongest when tied to an intense emotion, and strong emotions often accompany large events,” Screwllem spoke. “Given the appearance of a most unfortunate landing, it is highly probable that the two nameless left imprints within this area we can collect data from.”

“I already see some,” Herta mentioned, pointing out faintest of blue-purple threads trailing out of the train car. Following that smoke-like ribbons that glimmered with chintzy pieces of mermoria, she could see clouds of similarly blue-purple crystal shards that dancing in the air. Gather enough of those shards together, and memories would play out like holographic projections.

With a wave of her hand, Herta managed to interact with them. Mermoria, after all, was simply data, same as she. And data could always affect each other.

The shards collected, forming into a figure of Dan Heng carrying a lifeless Stelle in his arms.

“Their crash was not without catastrophic consequences,” Screwllem said.

Herta’s lips pursed as she watched the memory. “It’s a good thing I saw them alive at another point. That Twerp isn’t allowed to die on me. She’s become too valuable to my research.”

The scene faded, but the mermoria was still strong in this area, dancing like little crystals around. The whisp of a ribbon trailing off form this memory to the next.

“Ugh, why does Fuli have to leave such disasters everywhere,” Herta whined. “You’d think someone who likes recording memories would be more organized.”

“From another perspective,” Screwllem countered. “Their system is organized via location rather than person.”

“It’s inefficient.”

“What is efficient to one might be contrary to another. Fuli’s followers live on an alternate plane of reality, and it is possible that the differing dimensions factor into the efficiency of their organizational system. Logic: the Garden of Recollections system might be more organized due to their altered existence.”

“Yet another reason I hate the Garden of Recollection. Cheaters.” She stirred the next closest ball of mermoria together, hoping to come up with another memory imprint.

This time, Stelle was alive and well, hovering over Dan Heng as she leaned over…

They were kissing.

“Uck!” Herta swished a hand through it, halting the scene. “I did not need to see that. If this is how the Astral Express starts its missions, it’s a wonder you get anything done!” Her sharp eyes scanned the scene, noting the mermoria ribbon leading away from the scene. “Let’s go, Screwy. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover and limited time.”

“From my calculations,” Screwllem spoke, marching quickly after Herta. “I believe we have anywhere from ten to thirty minutes before a breech in the firewall is detected.”

“Wow, all the time in the world.”

They hurried along a path, finding a few more mermoria pockets to gather and collect. One depicted a character suddenly disarming both Stelle and Dan Heng. Well, well! He’d be a fascinating specimen for the simulated universe with that speed and agility. Then entered a second character, one much smaller, who was able to manipulate time.

“How interesting,” Herta commented, grin growing as she hustled onwards. They had much ground to cover, still. “Powers granted by gods? I wonder if they corelate to the aeons that gazed upon this place.”

“It is possible the scepter is only emulating those gazes,” Screwllem countered. “With as limited research as we have and as unpredictable this place has become due to the addition of an Emperor’s Scepter, I believe it best to take all previously known data as speculative.”

“A fair point. The scepters were designed to simulate and aid in the destruction of organic life. Could it be they wished to calculate what the direct contribution of aeons could add to that equation?”

“It is too early to form a solid hypothesis on the matter.”

They kept traveling along the marked mermoria trail, going for a while before finding yet another solid mermoria point.

“Huh. Strange,” Herta murmured, noting the mermoria cluster looked more like a log than a ball. “What’s this mess?”

“Judging on the shape this mermoria pile had taken on, it is likely the Nameless were traveling while this memory took place.”

“Again, this is why I hate memokeepers.” Herta stuck her hand into the middle of the line of mermoria, calling it together.

 The words of this memory, though strong, were distorted a bit, forcing Herta to keep swishing the crystals together until she got a clear enough picture.

“… cover story include?” Dan Heng spoke.

Ah! Finally.

“Let’s start with our first kiss.” Stelle answered. “You said we’d talk later. It’s later.”

“Again?” Herta flatly complained. “What is it with you two and smashing faces?”

She didn’t wait for Screwllem’s input before moving down the line and trying again. Maybe she’d get some actually useful information.

“…details of our marriage.”

“On your homeworld, with their customs,” Stelle swiftly answered. “But… ugh, the sky secret again. Um… your hometown.”

Dan Heng nodded. “So that if there’s any significant item that signifies a marriage here, we can simply say it’s different where we came from?”

“Yeah, I guess that, too.”

“Marriage?” Herta cried. “Since when did that little Twerp get married?”

“I cannot recall of any conversation or profile data indicating such,” Screwllem answered.

Herta scoffed. “We all would have known. Even if that twerp didn’t tell me, she would have told Asta. And Asta wouldn’t have been able to shut up about it.”

“I believe there was a more important piece of information demanding our attention. What is this ‘sky secret’ they mention?”

“Good catch, Screwy. In context, it seems they are not able to talk about Dan Heng’s homeworld.”

“Is it possible that any information beyond the sky is taboo here?”

“It would make sense for a hermetically sealed world to want to stay that way.”

They kept going, Herta dragging her hand through the mermoria at various points as they went. Once again, that speedy fighter from before appeared.

“She clearly trusts you a lot, too,” the newcomer mentioned.

“I’d hope so, considering we’re married.”

Again, when did that Twerp get married? It was actually irritating to know her knowledge on her favorite test subject had holes. Hopefully, the twerp wasn’t planning on retiring or whatever now that she was hitched. There seemed to be a strange correlation between marriage, pregnancy, and turn-over rates among researchers at this station. And do you know how inconvenient it was to have to replace people?

Not that she did it, but any flux within the pace of research did not go unnoticed.

“Huh. Sorry, I didn’t realize. But then again, I guess I’m not the romance titan.” The fighter chuckled nervously.

“The previous mermoria character also mentioned a titan,” Screwllem remarked, watching the mermoria crystals scatter about as the memory disipated. “Could these titans be the equivalent of aeons in this experimental world?”

“What powers could a romance titan hold?” Herta questioned. “Did Idrila see fit to cast her gaze upon this world?”

“Hypothesis: each of these mentioned titans correlates to an aeon. The Emperor’s Scepter could include the direct intervention of each aeon in their calculations, much like your Simulated Universe.”

“Now that’s an interesting hypothesis, Screwy. If we had the time, I’d help you test that theory. But, better question: any way we can speed up travel a bit? I worry this is going to take longer than we have.”

Screwllem pulled up a screen before him, typing in something Herta couldn’t see nor cared to pay much attention to. Screwy knew what he was doing.

In the blink of an eye, the setting changed. Darkness gave way to a red sky, and the calm yet empty pathways were a stark contrast to the current chaos and screaming.

Herta ignored the people who were running past them in droves. They couldn’t see her, anyway, and even if they could, she doubted they much cared than anything other than escaping the apocalypse. “Burning skies, shattered statues, corpses strewn everywhere... What a mess. If this is what the inside of ‘Amphoreus’ looks like, it's truly shocking. I wonder how the Nameless were able to survive in this disaster.”

“Considering the state of chaos amongst the people, it appears this situation was altered shortly prior to our arrival.”

“It wasn’t that long since I last arrived.”

“Counterpoint: the Emperor’s Scepter alters the flow of time itself. Therefore, what could have been a short time to you might have been different for Amphoreus.”

“That is true. If the flow of time is different, I wonder what the conversion rate is. If it’s too fast, we may be too late to save the Nameless.”

“We should still try to locate their mermoria,” Screwllem stated. “If this is the state of Amphoreus as of present, then it is imperative to extricate the Nameless.”

“No kidding. We needed to pull them yesterday. It’s not the first time I wish science could be rushed.” Herta reached for the closest pile of mermoria, connected to the trail they were following. With a swish of her hand, she called the shards together, the crystals forming into the missing duo.

“Are you sure?” Stelle asked.

“I don’t like it,” Dan Heng confessed. “But this is for the best. Phainon and Mydei need all the help they can get so they can deal the final blow once you return.”

“Well, it seems they were fighting something,” Herta mentioned. “But with the state of the world, can’t say I’m surprised. At least the twerp would be in fighting shape when they retur—"

… they were kissing again.

Was that really necessary?

Thankfully, they kept it brief. Herta would have waved them away had it gone on any longer. Instead, she watched as they marched off to their awaiting group who looked grave, as though preparing for facing a battle. The next instant, a portal appeared, summoned by the tiny red head, and the nameless plus one of the other fighters disappeared through it.

“Teleportation? Oh! How fascinating.”

“Could that power also be tied to a titan.”

“Which one?” Herta questioned, her eyes practically sparkling with curiosity. “If we had the time, I’d go scavenging the city for an answer. A shame.”

The trail of mermoria here was much stronger than where they’d previously landed. Herta had a good feeling as they followed the trail deeper into the heart of the chaotic city, and that good feeling was confirmed when the trail proceeded to spread out in every which direction.

“Alright, Screwy. Question: How do you untangle a trail that looks like a ball of yarn that Ruan Mei’s creations batted across the space station?”

“A ball of yarn has a beginning and end. One would start at one end and patiently unravel it until they reached the other.”

“And when the hourglass is ticking?”

“Logic: the strength and pattern of mermoria trails indicate the Nameless inhabited this city for an indiscriminate amount of time. Conclusion: the strongest mermoria trails will lead to their place of residence.”

“Sound reasoning. Let’s try to find the strongest trails, shall we?”

Seeing as they didn’t know how much time they had left in this space, they had to hurry. They managed to weave their way through the markets, ones emptying out as people ran for whatever form of safety they could find. By the time they found a teleporter to a higher ground, the city was practically a ghost town behind them.

Upon taking the transporter, Herta decided to start waving her hand through the streams of crystals, seeing if one strong memory would form and give them yet another data point. Considering the strength of mermoria trails here, the Nameless had walked this way countless times. Surely there was one memory that would stick out over the others.

And what do you know, Herta eventually conjured one. Either it had to be recent or it was an impactful memory.

“Dan Heng!” Stelle ran up the path to Dan Heng. He turned around, catching her in his arms. “I’m glad you’re—”

And then he tilted her back and kissed—

“Good Nous, do you two do anything else?” Herta hissed.

“I cannot say I understand the emotional component behind romantic relationships. However, I acknowledge this is common behavior among couples.”

“It doesn’t have to be this common.”

“You’re okay,” he spoke, a statement that demanded confirmation.

“Y-yeah, I’m…” She released a breath. “Well, I’m fine after that. Wow.”

An old warrior Herta didn’t recognize cleared their throat. “Forgive my interruptions, but… did you get the message?”

The warrior from before that Herta wanted for her Simulated Universe project looked very distressed. “What do you mean Lady Aglaea is deceased?”

Herta knew they only had limited time, but she stopped to listen to the old warrior ramble about how this woman, this “Lady Aglaea” was pushed off the top of the bathhouse. Dan Heng asked how communications were still up, to which the two other warriors mentioned this lady’s powers still functioned somewhat, her remaining connections keeping Amphoreus running, although it was now on a strict time clock.

“So, without this woman, everything fell apart at the seams,” Herta muttered, watching the memory fade away. “Fascinating. If her powers correlate to an aeon, then which one would she be? How do they work if this entire world seems to demand she stay alive.”

“Considering this memory came up as opposed to others,” Screwllem speculated. “It is possible this is very recent. Hypothesis: the death of this ‘Lady Aglaea’ is in direct connection to the current state of this world.”

“I’d believe that.”

Herta and Screwllem pressed further into the large bathhouse. Threads were everywhere here, so they followed whichever direction seemed to hold the most threads at any given time. Then came a spot where the thread split off into two directions, one heading up to a bath elevated above the large one here and another trailing deeper into the palace.

“Do you think they stayed up there?” Herta asked, looking up toward the second floor.

“From my perspective, the second level houses a tier of baths above the rest. My assumption would be that space houses and provides for leaders or important dignitaries.”

“Good point. Doubt our Nameless would earn such a title. Then again, they’ve surprised me before.”

“Calculation: though there are more mermoria crystals in the path leading toward the second floor, there are more threads leading the opposite direction.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

The duo marched further into the bathhouse, weaving through hallways and various outdoor spaces until—

Aha! Jackpot. “Found you.”

That door held countless threads. This was undoubtedly their lodgings. Herta pushed open the door, finding mermoria everywhere. The bath, the bed, the balcony. The threads and crystals of mermoria clogged the entire space.

She held her hand in the air, ready to stir together some memories before she hesitated. The last mermoria she’d scrapped together had been a kiss, declaration of marriage, a kiss, and a kiss.

And she was about to stir up memories within the confines of their private bed chambers.

“If I see you two doing the horizontal tango,” she grit out. “I am leaving you two to your doom.”

“Regardless of what is conjured,” Screwlem spoke. “We cannot abandon them. Furthermore, it is us trespassing into their private rooms. We are the intruders and therefore cannot be upset by the information we stumble upon.”

“My point still stands, Screwy! I’m not the one who can conveniently erase pieces from her memory!”

With a wave of her hand, a memory came together, revealing the duo standing in what suspiciously like wedding attire.

“Cerces tree,” Stelle commented, toying with the capelet that draped down from one of Dan Heng’s shoulders.

“Aglaea seemed very fixated on that metaphor.”

“It’s kinda growing on me.”

“Stelle, may I see my bride?”

Her hand fell away as she took several steps back. “Yes. What do you think?”

“I think your ass would look better in the simulated universe than it does in that dress,” Herta snipped, dismissing the memory in a wave. “When I get you two back, you’ll be my guinea pigs for life. My life; not yours.”

“Madam Herta, you cannot expect indentured servitude over the equivalent of multiple amber eras in exchange for this. The trade is not equal.”

“How about one amber era?”

“Considering the numerous dangerous curios the Astral Express has obtained and transported for you, as well as the intensity of several simulated universe runs, I would once again argue the trade is unequal.”

“Half of one?”

Screwllem did not answer, yet she could feel his disappointment.

Oh, for Nous’ sake. How could a non-organic lifeform silently express disappointment so clearly without facial features? That was just infuriating.

Ignoring him, Herta marched to the balcony, looking out upon Amphoreus. From here, she could see that the landscape had already changed from when they’d first arrived to this city. The evacuations must be nearing completion, at least for the city, yet she could still hear the cries that made their way down the mountain as the red sky grew more oppressive. It was as though this world was collapsing in on itself.

“Herta,” Screwllem said, stepping up to her side. “I believe we are out of time. As much as I’d love to indulge your curiosity for more—”

“I understand,” she said. “The Nameless are our ultimate objective, but even after we extract them—that is, if we can—we cannot leave this place alone.”

Their data began to fizzle out, and when Herta once again opened her eyes, she was back on the space station. “Were you able to track our data, Screwy?”

Screwllem tapped away at his screen. “Yes. My calculations were able to collect the mermoria data points and trace a path between them Furthermore, it was able to accurately lock on to the home base of the Nameless.”

“Good. We can use those points as anchors to return, correct?”

“If need be, yes. With the collection of these data points, our transportation of our data entries will be increasingly accurate.”

“Good to know. Since we’ve all but confirmed your hypothesis of Amphoreus being an Emperor’s Scepter, I have no doubt we’ll need to transport ourselves back yet again. After we get those Nameless off, of course.”

Screwllem gave her a nod. “We should report to the others. They are eagerly awaiting information on their companions.”

~~~

With Sunday marching at his side, Welt walked back to the Astral Express, his mind reeling with the information he’d learned from Madam Herta and Screwllem. First and foremost, Stelle and Dan Heng had landed safely on Amphoreus, and there was evidence that the duo were still okay for the time being. That above all else was the most important piece of information he’d gotten from that whole conversation.

However, that’s not to say it was the one that occupied the majority of his thoughts.

“By the way, when did the gray twerp and gloomy guard get married? I know everything about her, but that is new information to me.”

The bomb Herta had dropped on him had confused him only momentarily. “Ah, they must be pretending. Considering they lost signal with us, they might have decided to put on a united front for the time being. It’s not the first time such a protective measure has been employed by the Nameless while exploring unknown territory.”

Herta had not looked convinced. “They sure did a whole lot of kissing for a pretend couple.”

That had thrown Welt through a loop. Even if pretending to be a married couple, a public display of a kiss was hardly necessary, nevermind multiple displays. There were many other ways to show closeness, and Welt had no doubt Stelle would make up for where Dan Heng lacked. They were close enough to present a convincing act as a married couple if they put their minds to it. Yet, hearing that not all their displays had been made in public settings indicated there was more to their story than a pretend marriage, which confused Welt even further.

It wasn’t an understatement to say Welt walked back to the Express in a bit of a daze. Sunday seemed to be just as overwhelmed, but Welt doubted it was simply from the confusing information regarding the nature of Stelle and Dan Heng’s relationship. The news of an Emperor’s Scepter and a Lord Ravager were extremely concerning.

Welt found it regrettable that Sunday had only just joined the Nameless crew, only for this overwhelming incident to occur. This was far from how he wished to welcome Sunday into the group, yet if he looked back upon the track records of how the other trio joined their ranks, Welt couldn’t say they had a smooth transition, either. Maybe a chaotic entry was just par for the course.

When they arrived back at the train, Welt headed toward March’s room. Himeko rarely left March’s side anymore, so if he wanted to inform her of what he’d learned, that was where he’d go. It would have the added benefit of telling March, who may not be conscious but was still part of the crew. It felt wrong to leave her out, even considering her current state.

“You don’t have to join me,” Welt told Sunday. “If you want to lay down for a while, feel free. That was a lot of information to take in. I don’t mind relaying it to Himeko.”

“If you don’t mind,” Sunday answered. “I think I’d prefer to join you. I’m still… a bit confused.”

“What on?” Welt asked, walking through the halls.

“Um… most things. I’ve lived in the realm of Penacony for so long that most of this is new to me. I’m still trying to rationalize it. Furthermore, I still worry about Stelle and Dan Heng. If anything, I fear for them more after learning what Madam Herta and Master Screwllem had to say. The memories they relayed were also… confusing.”

“Yes, I have to say they are one of the most confusing parts of that entire conversation.” Welt knocked on March’s door before cautiously peeking in.

Himeko turned in her seat to meet his gaze. Her smile didn’t erase even a trace of the weariness from her countenance. “You’re back.”

“Yes,” Welt said, entering the room. Sunday trailed after, politely shutting the door behind them. “Has there been any improvement?”

Himeko shook her head. “I can’t say so. If anything… she’s grown worse.”

Welt looked over March, noting the way her six-phased ice had almost blanketed her entire body. Icicles even protruded from her bed like fortress guards. He reached out, slowly stroking her hair. It was times like this he understood the pain of parents seeing their children in a hospital bed. This broke his heart, seeing March in this state once again.

“Did you learn anything hopeful?” Himeko asked.

Welt straightened, turning to Himeko and Sunday. “I’ll put this in as basic terms as possible: Amphoreous is likely created by an escaped Emperor Rupert’s Scepter—a rogue genius’s dangerous creation—” He explained to Sunday specifically, “That had escaped notice. Herta speculates this scepter is handled by an intelletron by the name of Lygus, and this character likely controls the fate of Amphoreus. As of their last visit, the world seems to be in an apocalyptic state. This is not a surprise seeing as the scepters are used to simulate or aid in the destruction of the human race. Right now, the current situation stands thusly: Madam Herta and Screwllem must find a way to break the test tube known as Amphreous’s simulation while also not releasing the Lord Ravager that is contained within. Whether that Lord Ravager was contained by the scepter or created because of the scepter’s simulations have yet to be determined. Either way, it’s a precarious situation.”

Himeko frowned. “What of Stelle and Dan Heng?”

“Madam Herta has found traces of Stelle and Dan Heng on Amphoreus. They have landed successfully, and they seem to have found a place to settle and made tentative allies.”

“That’s at least a little relief.”

“Yes, well… there’s…” He cleared his throat. “A bit more to the story than that.”

Himeko quirked a brow. “Oh?”

“Do you remember, back before we had the other three aboard, when we were trapped in the wilderness without connection to the outside world?”

For a moment, Himeko mulled Welt’s words over before recognition sparked in her gaze. “I recall that. One of our more adventurous missions. You had to pretend to be my husband to keep the village elder from wanting to take me as a concubine.”

Welt sighed, this story already making him feel exhausted all over again. “To this day, I worry it was hardly believable. I am much older than you.”

Himeko waved a hand of dismissal. “The village elder was even older than you. What you believed to be doubt was most certainly jealousy. I must say, it was quite fun playing it up.”

Warmth bloomed in his cheeks, recalling the flirtatious way Himeko had publicly treated him during their stay. “At least you covered my poor acting skills.”

“From my perspective, you played the part of cautious and careful husband to a tee. I promise, you were the envy of every man in that village. And I appreciate you sacrificing your comfort for me. It showed, but it was to our advantage.” With that, she shot him a wink.

He simply shook his head. He was thankful they’d never needed to employ that tactic again.

“Anyway, if you’re bringing that story up, my guess is Dan Heng and Stelle took a page out of our book? Actually, I can’t say I’m surprised. It would be a wise idea, given the circumstances.”

“Of that, I agree. However, Herta found multiple memories that seemed to suggest that they… were not pretending.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sunday, for the first time, interjected, “From what Madam Herta and Master Screwllem described, Dan Heng and Stelle were a real couple. I never suspected they were in such a relationship, but it seems neither of you suspected that, as well?”

Welt certainly hadn’t. From what he saw, Dan Heng treated Stelle and March as a protective older brother. Vice versa, March and Stelle were overly affectionate younger sisters. They were an almost inseparable trio, and at a glance, some might suspect the trio knew each other for far longer than they had.

“I can’t say I never suspected it,” Himeko answered. “Stelle was rather obvious. It was Dan Heng I could never get a read on.”

“Really?” Welt questioned, surprised. “That’s news to me.”

With a sigh, Himeko quietly muttered, “men.” She sat up straight. “I do have to wonder what sort of memories Herta saw to suspect such a thing.”

Welt chose to ignore her snide remark. “Well, kissing in private is rather convincing evidence, given what I know about both of them.”

Himeko’s eyes took on a sparkle that slightly camouflaged the bags under her eyes. The woman needed some sleep, and Welt had every intention of sending her out to get some as soon as he could slip it into the conversation. “They are definitely together, then. Oh, March will be sad she missed this.”

Speaking of which. “Himeko, why don’t I watch over March? You should go get some sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“Correction: you need to get some sleep.”

She sighed, her shoulders instantly sagging under the weight of the world upon them. “That obvious?”

“Unfortunately.”

“But you two are certainly tired.”

“I would be happy to watch,” Sunday offered. “I am not the one who has been playing nurse nor the one reasoning with geniuses. I’ve been a spectator thus far. Please, allow me to assist.”

Welt and Himeko shared a glance. Although Himeko clearly wanted to protest, Welt shot her a warning look.

Glancing away, Himeko relented. “Alright. I think that would be wise. Thank you, Sunday.”

“Of course. Get some rest, both of you.”

“Thank you, Sunday,” Himeko said as she left the room.

Welt pat Sunday’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

They left the room, shutting the door behind them. Although, they didn’t go far seeing as Himeko’s room was right next door.

Before she slipped into her room, Welt put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be fine. I have to believe it. We managed to pull her from her ice once. I’m sure if need be, we can do it again.”

The sigh that escaped Himeko was heavy with exhaustion. The way she crossed her arms in front of her made her appear small. The fact Himeko was usually so brimming with confidence made this action appear even more drastic. “It’s not just her.”

Welt pursed his lips to keep them from turning into a frown. “I know.”

“Would it be weird to say… I feel like we’re about to lose all our kids?”

“Only if it’s weird for me to admit I understand the sentiment a little too well.” Despite Dan Heng likely being older in years, Welt took pride in being regarded as the elder of the Express, and as such, he felt responsible for taking care of the others. And he knew that Himeko, being the one who brought the Express to life, the one who called everyone aboard and started them off on adventure, also felt personally responsible for every single person aboard the train. They may have pretended to be a married couple once before, and they joked about being parents more than once. But as of this moment, it wasn’t all just pretend.

“Get some rest,” he softly encouraged. “We’ll need it to keep fighting for ‘our kids’.”

“Oh, we’d fight without sleep,” Himeko tiredly teased. “It’s just easier with sleep.”

[thebirchwood]

How do you tag for spoiler content that completely changes the tone of the story once you know the truth?

I have a dilemma, internet friends, and I’d like to hear a wider spread of opinions about this, so I figured I’d try out this whole Tumblr poll malarkey.

Some context: I’m a writer of smutty content online (original and fanwork). As a challenge to myself, I wrote a story a little while ago that contains a significant twist, starting with one scenario and then letting the reader in on the truth about halfway through when the ramifications finally get examined. When I was done, I sat back and went damn. How the fuck do I tag this without ruining it completely?

(For ref, the story has not been posted yet, hence I’m still figuring out how I want to handle tagging it.)

Importantly factor: The ‘truth’ is discovering that a seemingly non-consensual sexual scenario is, in fact, pre-arranged and consensual. 

(To be clear, this is not intended as a discussion of how to tag triggering content specifically - I personally will always tag for major triggers I’m aware of, not as a moral stance just due to preference as a writer/reader. The scenario I’m dealing with here is the opposite of that.)

My thinking is, if the story is tagged as Non-Con, it will attract folks who want to read Non-Con - they will then be disappointed to discover it is actually Consensual Non-Consent. If the story is tagged CNC, however, then the effort of the first half of the story to obscure this fact is moot, the reader will experience no tension as a result, and the story is therefore rendered meaningless. Also, the CNC reader might find it uncomfortable if the tone doesn't match what they expected from CNC!

So the question I have is: What do you feel is your preferred way, as a reader, for a story to be tagged in this scenario?

Please reblog, I’m looking for as much feedback as possible here to help me formulate my own final opinions. There’s obviously tonnes of nuance to this question, so I’d love it if you could respond and lemme know your thoughts in the tags!

[mindful-of-ideas]

Preference: Peaky Blinders

- Being the youngest Shelby sibling

Characters : Arthur, Thomas, John, Ada and Finn

A/N: Based on this request here, by anon. I'm sorry it took so long!!

Arthur:

When you were a baby, your mom always made a point that all the boys were to help take care of you. She understood that the age gap between you and them was big, but she wanted to make sure that you had a relationship with your brothers

So, every now and then, Arthur would help by babysitting you. He would tell everyone he hated doing it, but the truth was that he loved it. There was something about you that calmed him. Maybe it was how tiny you were, how fragile you looked, but every time he held you, he felt much more calmer. Even as you got older, that feeling stayed. Every time you would be alone together, he would be more calm and gentle. When he stayed overnight to look after you, you didn’t have to be scared of the monsters under your bed, because you would fall asleep in his arms before even getting to bed.

As you grew up, however, you started to notice how violent Arthur could be towards others, and that scared you. So you drifted away from him slowly. You knew he would never hurt you, but his strength was still enough to scare little ten-year-old you.

However, one day, you came back from school with a black eye. Some guy had been teasing you and you finally had enough. The thing was, when you punch people, they tend to punch you back, hence the black eye. Upon seeing your face, Arthur went completely mad, but you tried to calm him down.

“You should see his face, this is nothing,” you said pointing to your eye.

“Still…” he grumbled, “let me take care of him.”

And after that day, Arthur decided he was going to teach you how to fight. This was something you have secretly always wished for since on one hand you wanted to be like your brothers and train, and on the other, you wanted Arthur to teach you again. Again, yes, because when you were younger and he was still babysitting you, he had taken the time to teach you how to draw. Everyone kind of knew he used to draw when your mother was still alive, but we were almost certain you were the only one who knew he still did it. Now, you were no master painter, so you would usually take out a book or study while he would draw, trying to furtively glance at what he was doing.

Even if he wasn’t babysitting you per se, you kept this up until you were finished with your secretarial studies. He would sometimes stay overnight on Tommy’s request, to keep an eye over you. For a period of time, it was the only way you could see him. You had decided to keep up with your studies, as your mother (and Tommy) would’ve wanted. Secretary sounded like an easy way out of Birmingham and a life away from crime. But as you got more and more educated, Arthur became more and more distant. You never truly understood it. How did learning about shorthand and typing meant that you didn't need your older brother anymore? When you moved out to work in London, you almost lost all contact with him.

After a few months of being a secretary, you got bored, bored and exasperated. You couldn’t stand the weird creepy men that were constantly flirting with you and the endless paper job that always had to be done for the next day but was almost never even used or looked at then. If it was only up to you, you would revisit the way the whole company worked, but it wasn’t. So, one day, you made a show of yourself and finally snapped. You screamed at everyone and left, going back home, going back to Birmingham. News travelled fast, and since Tommy had been the one to recommend you to that company, everyone knew what had happened before you even set foot in town. Arthur, he was overjoyed. Why? Because you just proved that you COULD be a little like him. But his joy just made you feel worse. You wanted to cry. You had lost your only way out of crime. You locked yourself in your rooms for days before someone could finally reach out to you, and it was Arthur. He didn’t say much, mumbled some kind of apology. But he sat by your side and waited. He waited until you rested your head on his chest and wrapped your arms around him. Then, he hugged you, held you close, just like when you were younger.

Tommy:

Tommy never really showed interest in you when you were younger. The age gap was big enough that you understood why he didn’t really care. And, truth be told, you didn’t mind that much either. Just because he didn’t show any particular interest, it didn’t mean that he didn’t care. Because he did. He cared deeply. After your mom died, he made sure you were never missing anything. He’s the one who decided that you and Finn should be raised by Polly. And he meant it when he said raised. He trusted her to make you into the best version of yourself and to make sure you could, if you wanted, live a life away from crime. He loved you enough to know that he wasn’t the best person to raise you.

When you were younger, he never babysat you. However, Polly always made sure to ask your brothers first when she needed help with you and Finn. She would also ask them when she didn’t need help. If it was only up to her, you would’ve grown up in the same house as your brothers, or in a house where they would always be in and out of, the way it would’ve been if your mother was still alive. But she knew this was impossible. Still, Tommy would sometimes come over to dinner or watch over you for the evening. Sometimes Polly proved to be convincing and Tommy would babysit you all day or all night. These were your favourite times. Maybe it was because you didn’t see him much or maybe it was because he was the only one to never baby you. He talked to you almost as if you were an adult and was always real with you. He would also answer all of your questions, even the craziest ones.

“But how come the trains can manage the curves, the wheels look too straight to handle that?”

“How about I take you to see them someday?”

“You would?”

“Of course.”

When he stayed the night, you would do everything to stay up as late as possible. But as it got darker and darker, you would get more and more scared. You could hear weird noises coming from outside, or was it from under your bed? Tommy, however, knew you could be reasoned with. You didn’t have to be afraid of the monsters under the bed because he could convince you, even for just one night, that they weren’t real.

Growing up, you stayed close to him. As unpredictable as he could be you knew you could always rely on him. He would help you no matter what. When you landed your first job, he sent you flowers but never came to congratulate you face to face. He knew how hard you were trying to appear as strong, tough and independent and he didn’t want to mess that up for you. Whenever he was in London, he would make sure to have dinner with you, paying for everything, of course. And you never asked where the money came from. As much as he tried to keep those dinners casual, he would always end up asking you too many questions about your work, your ambitions, your future.

He wasn’t disappointed when you lost your job, saying however how amazed he was that you lasted so long. He took you out to dinner that night, to celebrate “standing up to assholes and staying true to yourself”. He didn’t ask if you needed help to find a new job but left a flyer for a job in a science lab at your flat that night. It also mentioned that there were opportunities to go up the ladder by taking classes that they would pay for. You had always been a quick learner and weren’t too bad at science and math at school.

You got the job and invited him to dinner straight away.

“Of course you did!”

“You know what’s funny?”

“Umh…”

“At my old job, they were always saying how I need to have more chemistry with my boss, guess that won’t be an issue now.”

He snorted and started laughing.

It was one of the few times you had managed to make him laugh.

John:

John was already a teenager when you were born and he just had no time to give to a baby. That’s when he told his friends anyway. And to the girls, once he figured out they found it cute, he would say he was taking care of you. In reality, he did take care of you. Unlike Arthur and Tommy, he was home most of the time and had to help around a bit so that your mother wasn’t overwhelmed. He would mostly run errands but much preferred to stay home and take care of you. Once your mother died, he stayed around. In his mind, there was no reason for him to stop being there for you. Even if Polly thought he was more foolish than his brothers, more prone to make mistakes, she knew she could trust him when it came to taking care of you. She had no problem leaving Finn and you with him for days if she needed some time to herself.

Being around John always made you feel happier. There was something to him that just lifted your spirit, and made you want to laugh even when you were sad. He couldn’t quite bear seeing you unhappy or scared either. If you were afraid of the monsters under your bed, he would hunt them down for you, creating magical weapons with anything he could find just to see you smile before you fell asleep.

If you ever had problems, or just needed someone to listen to you really, you would go to him first. He would never judge you, of course, but as you got older he would sometimes scold you. Maybe it came with having kids of his own, you weren’t quite sure.

“Polly told me about the boy.”

“What, how did she know. That’s what I came here to talk about!”

“Y/N, you can’t just go around punching people.”

“He tried to… do… stuff to me.”

“Alright, where’s the bastard then!”

“Arthur is already on the case.”

“You told him all that?”

“No, he just saw the bruises and asked for a name, I gave it to him.”

“You okay though?”

“Yeah… I’m okay…”

He knew that if you wanted to talk more about what happened you would be back. And you were. It took you some time but you eventually told him everything. There wasn’t much he could actually do, but he listened and that was enough.

To everyone's surprise, he was the one who helped you the most when you moved to London. You wanted so badly to prove to everyone that you could make it on your own, but the truth was that you knew nothing, nothing at all. It took weeks before your apartment started to resemble somewhat like home. You were surviving of canned food and still hadn’t figured out how to do your laundry.

“Y/N, you know you can buy something else than canned food, right?”

“I know…”

“You know but…”

“But how do I cook it… what do I do with it?”

He laughed.

“Come on, we’ll buy some stuff and I show you.”

“While you’re here, how do I know when my laundry is clean? How long do I have to let it soak? Do I really need to split the white and the colours?”

And he had the answer to all your questions. With his own experience as a father and all the times he helped your mother as a teenager, it felt like he knew everything.

To him, you were always going to be the best aunt to his children. It was maybe the one thing that stressed you out, him having such high expectations about something you couldn’t really control. One day, Katie told you she hated you out of pure 5-year-old rage. You left the house that day crying, thinking you had failed as the coolest aunt. When he learned about what happened, John laughed before comforting you. He explained to you how Katie didn’t really mean that and that she actually probably already forgot about the whole thing. As he said that, the little girl came waltzing into the room and, as she saw you, her face lit up and she rushed over to hug you.

Ada:

When you were younger, she was all over you. She would dress you up, put makeup on you, take you out to do all the girly things. She was maybe the only one of your siblings to not shy away from showing you love. She would hug you and cover you with kisses whenever she could. She also made sure that you felt empowered, which was really important for her. Never did you feel like you were less just because you were a girl. You never had to be afraid of the monsters under the bed because they were too scared to go after a strong little girl like you.

Things took a turn once you got accepted into the typing program. You couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or not but she abruptly stopped making time for you. She wasn’t particularly rude or anything, just less present. One day, she came by to talk to Polly but found you, sobbing, instead. To your surprise, she didn’t hesitate and rushed to your side, trying to comfort you as best as she could. It was like the last few months of coldness never happened.

“What happened? Talk to me Y/N, I’m listening”

“It’s that stupid Beatrice and her stupid mom!”

“Who?” she asked, knowing you wouldn’t answer.

“She keeps making trouble in class, messing with everyone,” you said between sobs, “and she blames everything on me!”

Ada brushed your hair away from your face.

“And her fucking mom is the teacher, so of course she never believes me! And they talked of kicking me out… and… and… oh Ada, I’ve missed you!” you said hugging her tightly

Once you stopped crying and explained everything properly, she told you how to deal with Beatrice, in true Shelby fashion.

“And if that bitch messes with you again, I’ll handle it myself,” she added smiling.

After that, you had a lot of catching up to do. She explained how at first she had been jealous of you for finding an easy way out of Birmingham, but in the end, realized that it wasn’t such an easy way out in reality and that she could never do what you were doing. She respected your choice and told you how she admired your strength. It made you feel weird yet weirdly happy to know that the person you had looked up to all your childhood as a strong empowered role model was now looking up to you.

Once you moved to London, things got better. Even if you were younger, she was your best friend. And her little boy loved you! You were still not the best with children but you would do anything for that boy, just like you would do anything for John’s kids. When you got your first job, she took you shopping just like when you were younger. She was so happy for you.

And once you lost your first job, she didn’t say anything or taunt you. She took you out shopping again, to keep your mind off of things and let you hang out at her apartment as much as you needed. She was the first person you told about your new job at the science lab and she was even more happy for you than before. Once the classes started, she even helped you study and she was quite good at it. She could remember more of the stuff than you could, often finding weird but effective mnemotechnic tricks. You told her that she should apply herself, pushed her to do so, but she kept refusing. You were scared that by pushing her you might anger her again. This time, however, you took the time to talk to her before things got worse. She told you how, even though she was good at remembering the stuff, she didn’t have any interest in it. Not like you did. She didn’t take offence at you trying to help her find a job outside of the family business but it just wasn’t for her. You respected her choice and since then have been the best of friends.

Finn:

He has always been your best friend. Yes, you were younger than him but it wasn’t by much and it never really mattered. Unlike your older siblings, you barely had any memories of your mother and, when you were young, you couldn’t really see why they hated your father so much since you almost never heard of him. This shared lack of memories made you bond with Finn. Maybe you couldn’t remember your mom teaching you the alphabet, but you could remember the tone of her voice when she sang to you at night. You remembered her sweet and flowery smell when you would hug her and the coldness of her hands every time she went to pick you up from the couch to put you in bed. These things seemed too abstract to share with anyone else but Finn. He was the only one who could understand. He had this sensitive side to him that he would only reveal to you. The way you could both just lay on the floor and reminisce at such futile things war always a comfort to you.

When Polly took you in, there was no going back. You became inseparable. You shared a bedroom, tucked away at the end of a dark hallway. You weren’t afraid of the dark or monsters under the bed, you were too old for that now, but the eeriness of that hallway always made you both jumpy and left you on edge. Finn and you would then come up with the funniest stories to try and calm yourselves before going to bed. It almost always involved killing the obviously not-real monsters, just in case. You didn’t have to be afraid of the monsters under the bed because you would team up and invent the most successful monster repellent.

School was always a bit hard for you. A girl, a Shelby girl, trying to stay quiet and just do what they were told looked weird, out of place. You would literally be quiet and stay out of everyone’s way but still get picked on. It was like people wanted to get a reaction out of you, just to then shove in your face the fact that you were indeed just another Shelby. You were grateful for Finn and his friends. As soon as he took notice that you were being picked on, he made sure that his friends and he would hang out close to you. You had a few friends yourself, but they tended to scatter when bullies approached while Finn and his friends would always step in. He was also close to a few girls from his class and if they found you just reading alone outside, they would sit around you, playing with your hair, not letting anyone get too close. You weren’t scared of the bullies, you truly believed you could punch them in the face and win, but you hated the attention. You just wanted to go to school, learn, have fun and be left alone.

As Finn got older, he started ditching school more and more often. That was why he wasn’t there when you had to defend yourself.

“You managed?” he asked.

“I did.”

“I knew you would.”

“Right…”

“I’ll be there next time, I promise. But come here. I bet everyone told you they would beat up the guy but no one took the time to look at your eye?”

He was one of the only one of your siblings to actually know how to handle cuts, and bruises, and burns. Even the flu stood no chance in front of Finn. You were glad he was skipping less and less classes just to make sure you were okay. Maybe he couldn’t do math to save himself but he had a natural talent in understanding the human body. And its mind. You truly believed that if he stopped sleeping in English classes, he would get something better than average. He had such a wild imagination and such a great empathy, an understanding of human nature.

“That’s actually decent,” he once said picking up one of your essays.

“Thanks, I learned from the best,” you said pointing at your copy of Hamlet.

“Ahh Shakespeare…”

“No, you! Idiot. It’s your copy, and there are notes all over it!”

He was a bit bumped when you moved to London, mostly because he felt like he was trapped in Birmingham. He thought it was too late for him to deviate from the Peaky way. He had doomed himself and had to live with the consequences of his own decisions. You didn’t believe that, obviously, and made sure to let him know that, whenever he would realize it too, your door was open.

And he came. He was knocking at your door before you even learned that Tommy had kicked him out. You helped him as best as you could, but money was tight and, if you wanted Tommy to keep giving you your allowance, you had to hide the fact that Finn was staying with you. You didn’t agree with Tommy’s decision. Family was family. Kicking him out of the business was one thing, leaving him to fend for himself after promising him everything was another. Tommy knew that Finn had nothing apart from the Peaky Blinders. What he did was unfair. You hoped that with time, Tommy would come around and change his mind. Meanwhile, you had to get this boy a job and he was in luck. Your friend at The Daily Herald had just told you they had been looking for young boys to help around with the printing presses.

[lunar-antlion]

(tldr at the end)

just came out as trans to my therapist. This is the first time in my life i have actually ever spoken these words out loud. It's a truth i only recently fully accepted but have known basically my entire life.

I'm not gonna have a big coming out bc this is for me. My main goal is gonna be getting on hormones, I already contacted my local lgbtqia+ association for all necessary information on getting hrt in my country..

so that's a big fucking step wtf, love it though idk had to get completely baked after that therapy session and am still as of writing this so excuse the rambling.

my preferred pronouns are still they/them

anyways whatelse happened recently..

I was on vacation in berlin and it was so great. nobody knew me there so the freedom of being a complete stranger in such a queer city was eye opening - hence the "me accepting myself and starting to finally transition and stuff" thing afterwards.

Got a new haircut at LaBarBer✨ (queer barbershop in berlin)

Uni started and while i'm writing this "next semester" from ToP is playing wtf

anyways uni started and it's way less stressful as i expected and even though i have to redo the third semester, i'm only doing like six or seven classes this semester, because i did the others and the hospital hours for itlast year. idk if that makes sense btw.

tl:dr

Vacation in berlin:✨

Uni started: chill

me: 🏳️‍⚧️

[nevraeldarya]

How is Rhea's relationship with Thalia? In Titan's curse, she threatened Thalia but during the war, she was friendly. If a situation comes, will Rhae threaten Thalia or just talk it out? Is she like, 'I was only friendly with you because you were needed but I would've preferred threatening you'?

Also, Rhea didn't tell Thalia about her being reincarnated or about the existence of the multiverse. Will she ever tell her?

The relationship is neutral.

During the Titan Curse they were fighting, Rhea doesn't like showing her emotions and seemed indiferent about what happened to Annabeth when in reality Rhea was angry about it, her "indiferense" made Thalia angry. Hence why Rhea threatened her.

But otherwise Rhea would prefer for Thalia to completely stay away, she is friendly with her in casual talks or like someone would be with a stranger to keep things smooth.

Also Rhea will never tell Thalia about the multiverse or the reincarnation, that was something told to Annabeth, Nico and Grover because :

Annabeth : despite what it seemed Rhea cares deeply for the girl and wanted to be her friend, so telling her about the truth to solve their falling friendship was the solution to the whole problem so Annabeth could understand why Rhea is the way she is.

Grover : Their empathy link go both ways, and he saw Aidoneus for a brief moment and heard him and Poseidonas, he could also feel Rhea’s deepest emotions which is why he partially understands Rhea despite not knowing the whole truth, telling him just finished the other part of the picture for him.

Nico : he could feel death on her as if she died and returned back in a very weird way, he asked the question and he would have asked more, Rhea also likes him so she told him.

[ricky-tiki-tah]

The Author & The Host (updated lore)

Brought to you by: me infodumping to @gottawriteanegoortwo

I forget how powerful Host is usually portrayed, since our Family Iplier Host/Author isn’t super powerful.

He’s pretty limited in what he’s able to do with his narrations, mostly just being able to see his immediate surroundings like a sort of echolocation.

He can also reality bend a little, but anything more than using it like the Force and he’s down for the count

That makes sense. I always imagined Host's powers to be based more in the present and the immediate future.

There’s also a bit of a difference between Author and Host’s powers. Author *has* to write in pen or it won’t stick, hence the sounds of crossing out and page turning in the DiF videos

The Author has the power of suggestion through written word, he has to write it then speak it for anything to happen. And even then it’s a tossup on how suggestible the person he’s writing about is. Meanwhile the Host(either since he’s older in the same verse, or because his powers work differently in the twin verse) only has to speak the words with power behind them for it to work for him

That's fascinating! So Host is a little stronger, in one way?

Technically the Host is stronger, though his power of suggestion isn’t quite as strong as Author’s is, which means his subjects wouldn’t be as compelled to follow his words. He doesn’t have the advantage of having it written down like Author does.

He could type it, he has a type writer for that very purpose, but he prefers to just speak his stories and record them on a tape recorder. In the Twin Verse, Author would sometimes transcribe a story here or there as needed.

Ooooh, I never even considered the power of suggestion. Is it the idea that it has been manifested in two places (written and spoken word) that fuels it?

Yeah! Both actually have the same power, but developed it differently.

If Author tried to only speak his works, his suggestions would be little more than a passing thought that’s easy to disregard since he never had a reason to develop that aspect of it due to taking to writing.

Host on the other hand (in twin verse) struggled with writing things even when he could see, so he worked on using spoken word and was able to strengthen that part.

In the same verse, his lack of eyes forced him to work on spoken word stories, or he would be effectively powerless. Which, he wasn’t able to use it for a bit because that part of his ability was so weak.

Having to write things down, does put a little bit of a damper on Author’s powers, since in its purest form, if he was able to fully harness the power, it would act a lot like Charmspeak, compelling people and objects to do as he asked.

That's *fascinating*, especially in the twin setting. It's so cool when two characters have the same ability but how it develops is purely based on the individual.

So for Author, I imagine him writing them and not speaking them would also give a weak result, if any?

Since the power is largely speaking based, yeah, it would have the same result, possibly even weaker, than if he spoke it.

Technically, he wouldn’t have to write it, if he believed that he didn’t have to. Since he realized it because of his writing, he believes that his power is through written word, which then formed how he strengthened his power, if that makes sense. It is the power of suggestion, so since the Author believes his powers work the way they do, that’s how they work.

*oooooooh*, so he technically doesn't understand the strength of his own ability?

yep! He can’t comprehend how powerful he could be, neither can, so they use the small amount they *believe* they have

*Dang*. So everyone should be incredibly grateful that both are oblivious to the truth? How much potential do they actually have?

I’d sayyyy a *lot*.

At full potential, they could probably rewrite anything they wanted to, break the fourth wall, be complete puppet masters. Their words would be reality. That would also come with a constant feeling of “is this real, am I just doing this because it’s my part in the story?” And more crisis’ like that

So it’s either wield only a fraction of the power they possess and not question their life or the part they play, or have full power and constantly wonder if they themselves are being manipulated

At full power he would *know* that he’s just a character as well. Know that he was created to tell a story. Take a more antagonistic approach to dealing with c!Mark Fischbach (Who does technically exist!! According to Markiplier TV. Wether Dark/Wilford think he is Actor in disguise or know he’s completely different I haven’t decided or noticed yet)

YOOOOO. Wait that's so cool! God-like powers where you could risk losing everything if you fly too close to the sun. Maybe we're lucky neither Author nor Host know the truth after all!! (I also do like the idea of c!Mark existing, as well as whether he's an innocent, unrelated or a disguised Actor. Adds to the fun of it all!)

They’re also lucky they don’t know the truth hehe.

I probably won’t ever write about them reaching full potential, but it’s good to know what *could* happen

Yeah yeah! It's definitely good to be prepared in that situation!

Do they behave when around the Egos, or are rules specifically in place so others can't be controlled?

since the others know about their powers, it would take a lot to get one to do something with them. So they tend not to use them like that, using them more to “see” in the Host’s case, or, since the Author will also write just normal stories with pencil or electronically, to grab something from the kitchen or a different room without moving from their library/bedroom

The powers are definitely used for pranks tho. Both of them love to pull harmless pranks on the others and in the twin verse, each other. Ranging from gradually moving every piece of furniture just slightly to the left, to bouncing something another is trying to grab all around the room/house

there’s also a small part that happened *while* writing the one story I have about them.

Basically, the Host and the Author are only what they’re called when using their powers. They’re almost like, channeling it? Or they’re kinda like vessels to the power I suppose. Basically they are “something else” when using the power and those “something else” are called The Author and The Host. Otherwise they tend to just call each other by name and most of they egos do so as well. Superhero names, sort of.

Oh yeah, forgot about the visions. Both have them, but they’re definitely worse for Host since he’s technically the “more powerful” one cuz of how he channels the power.

[para-imperium]

Interstellar Warfare

The large-scale multi-ship battles seen occasionally in interplanetary warfare are almost unheard of when the combatants are located in entirely different star systems. The main reason is simply the orders of magnitude difference in travel time and cost. Starships using reaction drives require many cubic kilometers of reaction mass just to get up to the speeds where ramscoops are effective, while gravity and warp drives require unfathomable amounts of energy and matter just to build.

Therefore, would-be interstellar invaders tend to adopt one of two strategies: The WMD approach is usually only effective against technologically inferior opponents, but if they pull it off a single starship can conquer a star. A G-Drive ship can dance around a fleet of reaction ships, slicing them to ribbons without even taking a hit, while even the least r-drive starship is a colossus compared to system ships. The power of their drives, combined with the purpose-built weapons that civilizations capable of building starships can design, means that almost any starship can lay waste to a defenseless star system in a matter of weeks.

Of course, if the invaders want to capture the biosphere intact (which most do, as it tends to be the most valuable part of a star system), they can’t simply throw nukes and c-bombs everywhere. Which means that the ship’s crew has to negotiate the tricky task of persuading the local governments to surrender with minimal devastation. Even if they succeed in this task, the resulting political arrangements tend not to last long. The elites and masses of such worlds tend to resent “quisling” leaders and efforts to depose them are soon to follow.

As such, worlds conquered by WMD use tend to acquire a growing number of radioactive craters as their overlords periodically reassert their rule, assuming the natives don’t somehow get hold of the technology required to shoot them down. This is less of an issue for nomadic “pirate” lords who only care about collecting their tribute and moving on, but for would-be emperors this is a bit of a hassle.

Hence the second approach: Subversion. This can also be accomplished by a single ship, but they tend to be more subtle in their methods. Using (comparatively) stealthy craft, agents are delivered to the system’s habitats where they infiltrate the population. These agents then make contact with the local discontents (there always are some) and attempt to recruit them.

To assist in this mission, agents are trained in a variety of disciplines ranging from hand-to-hand combat to megastructure engineering and meme hacking. They also tend to be equipped with the best nanofabricators that can fit in their ships, which can be large enough to build other spaceships or warmechs, in order to supply their fifth column with weapons, armor, and augmentations. These “gifts”, naturally, come with backdoors the agent can use to retain control. Remote-triggered explosives, gene-locks, even integral AI controls hardwired to obey direct orders from the agents.

Once the “revolution” seizes control they establish a government that passes outwardly as independent, but is in truth a puppet of their new “allies” from another star system. Their taxes are disguised as “trade” or “investments”, even “foreign aid.” Eventually the populace of such states figures out they’ve been conquered, but by then a substantial fraction of said populace has decided that they prefer living under their overlord’s thumb and the usual result is a civil war rather than complete secession.

House Ronkall’s paladins are particularly insidious. Their blood-bourne assemblers construct bionic augmentations in the infectee’s body, including an AI controller in their own brain that compels them to use their augs to fight criminal activity in their home polity. Helping endear themselves to the population, until the order to take over comes out. A single paladin can arrive on a planet butt-naked and infect a critical mass within just a couple short years.

[stupidrant]

i'm gonna be honest here, i just want to let it out there that i don't think it's entirely fair to judge thrud so harshly for being a product of her enviroment or her mistakes :( i can also point fingers at atreus for his poor decision making and acting out, but that would be stupid to do because he is after all a 14 year old kid. thrud is approximately same age as atreus and angrboda.

and i just realized just like jotunheim was angrboda's whole life and not being able to meet people her age, that's how it was for thrud while growing up in a toxic asgardian home with weird & down right mean family members. like whatever bullshit she saw and heard, all of it was a norm to her. we might not care, but the truth is that asgard was her entire world. her dad, however broken and unstable, was her entire world and wanted him to be better. and i would have had a problem if both dealt with their problems the same way or they were the same characters who showed grace, i greatly prefer them being on different ends of the spectrums so there's more room to develop their traits and arcs.

from thrud and sif's ending dialogues when they were sitting by the fire - i am sure that this is a kid who is going to shake off the ideology and propaganda they were raised with. she has to. because asgard is gone and she has to face reality in the other realms. and i don't doubt that sif the diplomat is going to keep her in check too!

(i am very sorry for the walls of text in your askbox but i find these discussions so fascinating and healthy, anyways i hope you're having a good day and what song are you listening to these days 💙💙💙 me personally i am in love with cowboy carter these days UGH I LOVE THE SONG TYRANT)

Im sure you know this anon but to anyone who might think otherwise i dont hate thrud so pls dont think that and i dont intend to start anything 😭 i agree she isnt a product of her family and i dont really put anything against her as she's just a kid hence why i think the most likely path she'd go is a self-reflection one rather than a self-deprecating one. Having differences is how atreus became friends with her, angrboda and skjoldr so heres to hoping for her and angie to be atleast acquaintances!

some additional comments about this too: i think the responses to thrud's character isnt completely because of her per-say, but more so because of the "fandom" (outside of here) and how she has a lot of weirdos on her (which isnt her fault either, shes just a character at the end of the day and a lot of those people do too much and it comes off as very disingenuous) and i think as time goes on, more people are gonna see through this and be a little turned off on her which is unfortunate because it should never be that serious and im not gonna let those people override my liking for her, im just pointing out how i see things and how dudebros fuck everything up in their paths. (since the year started i've been listening to more slower tempo songs tbh and i dont have any current favorites atm so imma just say sade - kiss of life for now lol)

[writerswho]

Fanfiction

Title: Coffee, Games, and Midnight Truths.

Words: 2,346.

Ratings/Warnings: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply.

Relationships: Eri & Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki & Iida Tenya & Shinsou Hitoshi.

Summary: When Iida got off his bed to give a piece of his mind to whoever was disturbing the curfew, he was not expecting to be fine with it afterwards.

Links: ao3. Tips: Ko-fi.

Commissions info here!

Contrary to popular belief, Iida Tenya is not a stuck-up or a goody-two-shoes incapable of ever breaking the rules or looking the other way when needed. Does he like rules? Yes. Rules exist for one reason, usually to make sure people don't die in stupid ways. Does he believe that every rule should be followed? Not since he met one Midoriya Izuku. If Yuuei resident Green Bean is good at one thing, it's unwittingly breaking the rules. It's not his fault, most of the time. Sometimes it feels like the universe is swirling around him, and he always ends up in the middle of everything that can and will go wrong. Anyway, Iida knows how to lose up and look the other way, he has learned it the hard way (like when he tried to commit a homicide). Still, it is past midnight on a school day and there is noise coming from the communal area. Tenya is not stupid, he is aware that not all of his classmates follow the curfew. Some have trouble falling asleep, and some have screwed up their sleeping habits. Some like to hang around the common area and enjoy the stillness of dawn. As the class representative, Iida is familiar with the ways of his colleagues. And he doesn't care [too much] if they miss the curfew for one hour or two, as long as they respect the ones that are locked away in their bedroom trying to study or sleep. Which they do, mostly. 

Hence, Iida's current irritation.

Someone is downstairs right now, not only ignoring the more lenient and unofficial curfew that Aizawa-sensei lets them have if they keep it quiet, but they are also being very rude about it. They are laughing. It's shrill and loud enough to get carried away to Iidaʼs quarters. Tenya cannot recognise whoever it is only with their laugh, but he has a slight suspicion that it's more than one. Which makes everything worse in his book.

On his nightstand, Tenyaʼs phone vibrates and the screen lights up, showing a new notification. It's a message. From Bakugou, of all people. 

Bakugou Katsuki: Make the fuckers making the noise shut the fuck up, or I will. 

Iida does not approve of his classmate's choice of words, but he would also like to see the ones causing the disturbance to stop. Preferably without causing any more turmoil.

Iida Tenya: Working on it. 

Bakugou Katsuki: Work faster, discount Sonic. 

Tenya pockets his phone. There is no need for an answer. He puts on his spectacles and checks the time on the digital clock on his desk. Forty-three minutes after midnight. On a school night. Iida is not happy. 

He walks down the corridor with steady but silent steps. Opting for the stairs instead of the lift, trying to minimise the noise. The dorm doesn't need yet another person making noise late at night. 

Two flights of stairs later, the loud cacophony became even louder.

“Iida.” 

Half hidden by the shadows cast by the light coming from the balcony penetrating through the window is Shinsou. He's sitting by the table with a mug that Tenya is sure is full of scorching coffee.

“Shinsou,” Iida acknowledged. “Did the noise wake you up, too?”

“Not really. Did it wake you?”

“It's really loud.”

“Yeah, it is.” The purple-haired boy doesn't seem bothered by the fuss. “Do you plan on making it stop?”

“But of course.” Tenya is scandalised by the question. “It's way past curfew. And whoever is making all this noise is showing a complete display of disrespect for the dorm's rules and our colleagues.” Even in a hushed tone, Iida is authoritative in his words. “As the class rep, I must put an end to it.”

“It is your duty.” He says solemnly. “But I don't think you can manage that.” 

“Are you doubting my abilities?” Iidaʼs voice is one notch too high for the late night hour. 

“Iida,” he puts down his cup and looks directly at his speedster classmate, “I want you to know that I respect you as a class representative and a fellow hero-in-training.” Shinsouʼs voice is steady, leaving no room for doubt. 

“Oh… Uhm…” It's the best Tenya can say back. 

“Now, with all that said, I would like to say that, yes. I am doubting your capacities. I truly believe you will not be able to put an end to this particular contravention.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Call it a hunch,” Shinsou takes a long sip of his coffee, like a cartoon character would do after saying something vague. 

Shinsou Hitoshi is a very cryptic person, Tenya realises. 

“Well, your hunch is wrong.” Iida nudges his glasses up his nose. On cue, a laugh a touch louder than the previous ones echoes through the dark, silent Heights Alliance. “If you excuse me, I will fulfil my duties as the class rep and put an end to this agitation.” Iida gives Shinsou a curtsy nod. He straightens his back and stalks into the living room.

Sitting on the floor, hidden from view, Tenya finds Midoriya and Eri. The green-haired boy has his back resting against the sofa, Eri is placed between his legs, and they're fighting over Midoriyaʼs phone. 

“It's my turn!” Midoriya speaks in a loud whisper. He's struggling to get the mobile phone out of the little girl's grasp.

“But you lost,” Eri counters. 

“I lost because you kept poking the screen to make me hit the obstacles.”

“It's not my fault that you cannot work under pressure.” Her tone is sweet and innocent. 

“I can work under pressure!” His voice is very squeaky. Midoriya clears his throat. “I mean, working under pressure is fine. Trying to play with you chanting ʽlose, lose, loseʼ on my ear and messing with the game is an entirely different thing.”

“If you say so,” she does not look convinced. “Anyway, you lost. My turn.”

Wrestling over who keeps the phone, neither notices that Iida is standing by the sofa, watching them fighting like two five-year-olds. Well, in Eri's case, she is five. Midoriya doesn't have such an excuse. 

Tenya takes a glimpse of the device screen and there is a cat dressed up as a superhero running in the middle of the traffic and punching raccoons. 

Iida cleans his throat, making enough noise to catch Midoriya's attention and giving Eri the chance to completely take over the phone. 

“Ha!” She cheers. 

“Not fair, Iida distracted me.” He pouts. 

“You really need to work in your sit-ution-al a-wa-r-ene-ss.”

“You mean situational awareness?” In the low light of the screen phone, Iida can see Midoriya smiling. 

“Yeah!” She sounds proud of herself. 

“It's a really big word, where did you hear it?”

“Dad was complaining about how you don't have it the other day,” Eri says without taking her eyes off the game. She then stops playing, looks directly at Midoriya and slaps her mouth shut. “I mean, Aizawa-san was saying it… but, uhm, but he didn't know I was hearing, so… I… ahm…” 

“Eri,” Midoriya says in a low voice. He takes her by the chin and gently turns her face so that she is looking at him. “It's okay. I wouldn't tell if you don't, okay?” 

“You promise?”

“I do.” He offers her his pinkie, which she accepts as a promise. “Now, I cannot say he would be thrilled with you hearing behind the door, but I am pretty sure he would love to hear you calling him Dad.”

“Do you think so?” Her voice is small and full of hope. 

“Absolute.” Midoriyaʽs voice is firm, yet, Eri doesn't truly believe in him. “I bet, he would even smile.”

“Smile? Really?” Her eyes are like shining stars. 

“Really.”

“But he is not my dad.” Her voice comes out as a broken whisper that squeezes the two boys' hearts.

“Eri-chan, do you know how families work?”

“Yeah. You have a dad and a mummy and a granddad and if you're really lucky, you can have a brother or a sister. Or both!”

“That's right. But do you know that there is more than one type of family?”

“What do you mean?”

“To start with, you have the biological family you were born into.”

“Like my mum and dad from before?”

“Exactly. They're your biological family.”

“So I don't have a bi-o-logi-cal family any more, right?” Eri breaks eye contact. Her shoulders are slumped and exhausted. She's too young to feel this way.

“No, you do not.” Midoriya wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. He kisses the top of her head in a brotherly gesture. “But do you know what you have? You have me and Mirio-senpai and Aizawa-sensei and Mic-sensei and Hitoshi, and we are your family now.”

“How?”

“Because, Eri, when you care for someone, you're free to include them in your family. We picked you, Eri, and we won't let you go unless you want to.” 

“I don't want to go.”

“Good, because I lied. I will never let you go and if you try to escape, I will put you in a vault.” Midoriya's tone has a false seriousness that makes the girl laugh.

“But vaults are for treasures.”

“And you are my treasure,” he means it. “I may be a hero, Eri, but I would burn down the world for you. And I'm sure Aizawa-sensei would do the same, and the others too. Do you know why?” She shakes her head. “We love you, Eri.”

“But I'm a monster.” She cries. 

“Eri,” Midoriya speaks in a soft voice. He settles the child on the floor so that she can face him. “Eri, I need you to understand something, alright? You are not a monster. You never were and never will be a monster. What you are, Eri, is the most precious little girl in the whole world. You're my little sister, Eri, and I will never let anything bad happen to you ever again, okay? Since the moment I saw you, I knew I would do anything in my power to keep you safe and ensure your happiness. Of all those people passing by that street, you bumped into me, Eri. You chose me that day, and I chose you back. I will be with you for the rest of my life, Eri, not even the gods can separate us now that we're together.”

Iida can see the tears streaming down her tiny face. Tenya feels a tightness in his chest and guilt for witnessing such an intimate moment but is afraid that if he makes any move, the two of them will remember his presence and their bubble will be destroyed.

“I love you, Izu-nii.” She launched herself into his arms, squeezing him as hard as her little body could and soaking his shirt with tears.

“I love you, too, Eri-chan.” Midoriya squeezes her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. “To Pluto and back.” 

Engulfed by the darkness, the two hug desperately as if they feared the possibility of the other being torn from their arms. The abandoned phone on the floor next to them with its screen long gone dark and Iida's presence, barely acknowledged in the first place, completely forgotten.

Tenya feels a tap on his shoulder. Shinsou stands next to him, a finger over his lips telling him to stay silent. The purple-haired boy guides him back to the dining table. 

Eriʼs sobs and the tick-tack of the analogue clock on the wall are the only sounds brave enough to disturb the stillness of the early morning hours. 

Iida finds a cup placed in front of him. He looks at Shinsou, who gives him a wordless nod and takes it in his hands. Tenya is pleased to discover that it is chamomile tea and not coffee.

Side by side, they remain silent sitting in the darkness and sipping their lukewarm drinks. 

Eventually, the sob stops. Hushed voices can be heard, and a sniff. Music appears in the background, repetitive and annoying, and the faintest light is coming out of the living room. More time passes before one can hear a giggle, small and broken, but there nevertheless. The giggle continues, growing louder and bolder until it evolves into a full belly laugh. 

That's the best sound Iida has ever heard in his life. 

In his pocket, Iida's phone starts buzzing. Another message, from Bakugou. 

Bakugou Katsuki: What the hell, Four-Eyes, didn't I tell you to stop the noise, or I would? 

Iida Tenya: I changed my mind. It is not bothering me any more. 

Bakugou Katsuki: Did you hit your fucking head? Whatever. Don't come after me when I beat the shit out of these fuckers. 

Iida Tenya: Suit yourself. But I bet you wouldn't do anything either. 

Tenya's phone vibrates aggressively with the stream of notifications, but he just puts it on silent and returns it to his pocket. 

A loud thud is heard from the upper floors, followed by the heavy footsteps of someone marching down the stairs. Bakugou appears on the threshold of the staircase, examining the dark man with his red eyes that shine like two beams. He looks in the direction of the two sitting at the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Tenya sees Shinsou pointing towards Midoriya and Eri. The blond man snorts and walks into the living room with heavy steps. Shinsou taps the table with his index finger, counting. Ten seconds later, Bakugou made his way in the opposite direction. Without saying a word, he served himself coffee and sat down.

Tenya and Shinsou shared a look. He could swear there was a thin smile on the purple-haired boy's lips. 

Later, when Aizawa arrives at the dorm after his night shift, he finds three of his students stretched out uncomfortably on the kitchen table, fast asleep, and his problem child lying on the living room floor with his adopted daughter in his arms asleep as if they were not the reason for his early grey hair. 

[marta-bee]

I've been thinking about the aesthetics class I took in grad school. There was this Scottish philosopher, I can't remember if it was Hume or someone he was responding to, who made the point logic and really most of philosophy was about how things actually are; but aesthetics and art-making generally was about the possibility of what could be. It was about imagining a better, or at least different, world than the one laid out before us.

Ethics did the same kind of work. It's not obvious at the level of feed the hungry, don't lie, base-level moral prescriptions. But at a deeper, more meta level, ethics is about what should or shouldn't be. Hence about a better (or worse) future world, not the one that currently is.

I'd add the outrage we see when things go so rotten is a sign of hope because it's our soul's, or our deepest self's if you prefer, way of saying: we deserve better than this. Reality owes us better, and if it's not going to oblige of its own volition, we're going to have to get busy with the work of making it oblige ourselves.

Along those lines I've been thinking about The Silmarillion (yes, that particular beacon of hope! [/snark]), and in particular the gathering of the elves in Sirion at the end of the First Age. I'm thinking of all the refugees, the battered survivors turning up probably with not much more than the boots on their feet; and Earendil just welcoming them in. They didn't have much to contribute when they arrived; but other elves still found a plate and a bed for them. And they got to work building a stronger community together. They still had that potential, and it could be encouraged for their own good, but also for the whole community's.

Yesterday, Mr. Trump talked about something called a "gold card" visa, basically for a $5mil fee you could come to the US where other kinds of visas weren't available. It's not completely unprecedented (we do have an EB-5 visa for people investing in American businesses and creating jobs), but announced beside some other immigration news like the push to round up and deport the unaccompanied minors, it does paint a picture. That's what prompted me to re-read and share the Emma Lazarus poem at you all last night. Because the way Trump was talking about that gold card visa, the kind of people he wanted to welcome because we had to let some immigrants in and we needed to make sure they were the "best," that they brought something to the table.... that told me something about how he sees America, and I just totally didn't see myself reflected in that.

Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses. That just groks with my soul.

I'll get to the details in a future news round-up I'm sure. The facts matter because we have to navigate them. But like I was telling @nektarios-hadjalis in another post, I also need the narrative, the things-could-be-better hope that comes with art's fundamental truth: things could be different than they currently are.

And of course we need to be smart about it. There are realities about how many we can accept before it impacts current Americans in a bad way, how we can do that efficiently so we invest a little to give them what they need to thrive here and the cost of that investment is borne fairly, so we can all thrive together. But at an aspirational level, we need to be as generous as we possibly can with the American dream and our faith in the innate potential of all people. Not just the potential, the worth and the right not to suffer whatever they end up accomplishing, but I do think all people have something to give to those around them if we give them the chance. We need to welcome them in, not just out of charity but as an investment in our own future, a bit of faith that we're all better off when there are more good people working together. And just at a basic humanity level, we need that hope that we all have the potential to be better than we currently are.

I find myself wondering about Celebrimbor. Feanor's grandson. Did he turn up at Sirion? I don't know the canon well enough to say for sure. Certainly he joined up with the survivors of Sirion in Eregion, in the Second Age. I like to think Earendil would have made space even for him. Imagine that: Curufin's son shelling the peas that would have made their way on to the plate of Dior's daughter.

Even if it was only for a narrow space of time. Even if it's all doomed to failure in a way the American future very much isn't. Still. He might have sat by the fire for a bit, learned a new skill, made a new friend.

Imagining that feels good. Imagining it in reality, for my American brethren, that feels good too. I don't know; maybe I'm just a soft-hearted fool to still long for those things. But that feels like hope, and without the longing, I just don't feel quite human.