#i might just rest on my laurels

[queen-scribbles]

Now that I’m actually done* writing my MEBB fic, aside from another editing run or two(or four), time to spin the wheel for the ~dozen prompts sitting in my inbox and pick one to write first :3

[peachtarto]

Now or Never

Pairing : Luke Castellan x reader

Word Count :

Summary : Luke missed his chance to ask you an important question, and is painfully unaware of it.

Warnings: mostly fluff! nothing crazy- Luke is dumb, Clarisse is an overprotective bestie, talk of self-doubt etc.

Masterlist here!

A/N : thinking of making this a little series of moments in your relationship- let me know if that’s something you guys would like!

‘Don’t you think it’s a little much?’ You questioned, eyeing your own reflection with what some might call a generous amount of scrutiny.

Silena gave no indication that she’d heard and continued talking, ‘there’ll be such good food, and wine of course, lots and lot of wine..’

The pins in your hair were already beginning to ache, and you tried not to wince as she added yet another one to the elegant braid she was painstakingly creating.

‘- imagine if we made this much fuss for our birthdays,’ she continued, ‘like, I get that he’s the god of festivity but I’ve got to question why he wants to party with a load of hormonal teenagers. Not that I’m complaining, we could all use a good party.’

Silena was already dressed: a deep purple gown of silk accented with golden cuffs, and little combs fashioned like gilded laurel leaves swept her hair away from her face. She looked beautiful, and there was not a doubt in your mind that she was the daughter of Aphrodite.

She’d picked out your dress which had been a relief, a soft chiffon that seemed to float when you moved. It was simple but elegant, she’d insisted- perfect for a daughter of Athena. She’d also said that the hair should match, but it’d been half an hour since she’d started and it was starting to feel everything but simple.

‘And can you believe we’re allowed to switch tables tonight? I can’t wait! Charles said we’d sit together obviously and I’m sure the Hermes boys will join as and..’

Her smile faltered when she saw the look on your face and she quickly halted her movements, ‘oh, don’t you like it?’

‘No no, it’s beautiful!’ You stammered quickly; she’d curled and brainded your hair back in a thick, loose plait with little gold pins shimmering throughout. Even in cabin 10, her skills were unrivalled. ‘I just- do you think it’s too much?’ You questioned again.

‘Too much?’ She scoffed, and then her full lips parted in a dazzling smile, ‘of course it’s too much, that’s the point! We want every boy in this camp on their knees! Figuratively of course.’

You tried to hide the smile that tugged on your lips, ‘You’ve already got Charles drooling after you non-stop, leave some for the rest of us.’

‘Some?’ She said and grinned rather fiendishly, ‘or do you want me to leave just a certain son of Hermes for you?’

You rolled your eyes and gave her a smooth, and rather horrible gesture as she went back to toying with your hair, giggling to herself.

Silena had been the one to introduce you to Luke two years prior. She’d gracefully swept you into her circle the moment you’d arrived in camp, convinced you would be claimed by her mother too. Had Luke not intervened and taken you to cabin 11 she probably would’ve had you sleeping top to toe in her bunk; she’d reluctantly handed you over, but not before she’d seen the look that had passed between the two of you. Love at first sight she’d insisted, and maybe she’d been mistaken on his end, but she hadn’t on yours.

‘You know, he really does like you. I can tell, and you should believe me because it’s literally my thing.’ She sighed, stepping back to admire her handiwork. She pulled and prodded at a few loose hairs until she seemed satisfied, then dragged you over to the long mirror at the back of the cabin.

You didn’t know how she’d managed it, but for once you didn’t cringe at the reflection you saw and a part of you couldn’t quite believe what stared back. There was no denying she was a master at her craft.

‘You look so beautiful!’ Silena squealed, her hands clasped together in pride. Then, without warning she pulled you into a bone-crushing hug that had the air leaving your lungs. ‘Tonight’s the night, for both of us, I can feel it!’

You hoped she was right as you followed her out of the cabin, towards the glittering lights in the pavilion.

Luke stood with Charles and Chris at the edge of the party, sipping slowly on the glass of wine in his hand. He supposed Mr D had been granted a night of reprieve.

‘Seriously man, chill out,’ he whispered over Beckendorf’s shoulder, ‘she’ll be here. Keep frowning like that and you’ll pop a blood vessel.’

He could sense Charles shifting in his feet nervously and his mouth twitched slightly, he knew the feeling all too well. He’d been on edge all day too. Chris was smirking too, but his was all smugness; he’d asked Clarisse outright to attend the party with him and much to everyone’s surprise, she’d said yes immediately, which was lucky for him because the alternative would almost certainly have been the loss of a limb.

‘How can it possibly take this long to get ready?’ Charles said, turning to face Luke. It was odd to see the son of Hephaestus so flustered when he was normally immune to the whims of teenage hormones; apparently he was not at all immune to the power Silena Beauregard seemed to hold over him. ‘Maybe she’s not coming man, we should just go before- oh..’ he trailed off. His eyes went starry and Luke whipped his head around to see what had entranced his friend.

There was Silena in her finery, tossing her hair over a shoulder as she swept into the pavilion. She threw a dangerously beautiful grin at Charles who was beginning to look a little like he might faint.

‘Hi Charles,’ she offered as she sauntered over. Anyone else might’ve missed the shake in her voice, but Luke caught the slightly nervous wobble of her tone and smiled. Good for Beckendorf.

‘You look great Silena,’ he managed to cough out. He quickly eyed Luke who gave an tiny nod of approval as if to say ‘keep going buddy!’

‘I know,’ she sighed dreamily, giving a little twirl of her dress before looping her arm through Charles’ who was now definitely holding his breath. Silena giggled and patted his chest sweetly before throwing a mischievous glare at Luke, ‘Just wait till you see her, I think you’ll get a little breathless too Castellan. Now come on Charlie, let’s get a drink.’

Luke watched her lead his friend away to where Chris stood with an arm slung around Clarisse’s waist; she’d opted for a gown of stormy grey adorned with tiny silver chains, as close to armour as she could get he guessed. She looked slightly terrifying, until Chris whispered something in her ear that had a blushing like crazy and stepping even closer into his side.

‘They make a great couple, don’t you think?’

Luke spun around quickly at the sound of your voice and cursed silently, Silena had been right. All the air left his lungs in a great breath and he was instantly lightheaded at the sight of you.

Devastating was the only word that came to his mind. Truly devastating. You could’ve walked into Olympus then and there and they probably would’ve pronounced you a goddess in an instant. He was struck dumb, and silent. He wanted to say something about how beautiful you looked, or how he’d been wrapped around your delicate finger the day you’d walked into camp; instead his frantic brain settled on, ‘nice dress, did you borrow it from Silena?’

You flinched. ‘No. We were sent a trunk to pick from from her mother.’

‘Oh.’ Was all he could reply as his gaze raked over you again. ‘That’s awfully nice of her.’

‘Very.’ You said through gritted teeth, trying to stop the scarlet blush you could feel rising to your cheeks. What was his problem? It wasn’t unusual for Luke to be blunt, he always struggled to keep his opinions to himself and it had gotten you both in hot water a hundred times before; but it was unusual for him to be blunt with you.

He’d been distant all week, he’d managed to miss three sparring sessions with you and counsellor duties on several occasions. The first few times Chris had been polite enough to make excuses for him, but when the two of you walked into the arena one morning to find Luke and Travis swinging swords at eachother, he’d stayed silent. He didn’t have to tell you what was already painfully obvious. Luke wasn’t ill, and hadn’t ’slept in late’, he’d just been avoiding spending any amount of time with you. You hadn’t had any idea why; and now, standing in the pavilion with the air thinning in between you both, you were even more confused.

He ran his eyes over your dress yet another time and something seemed to snap in your chest. ‘If you’re going to keep judging my outfit,’ you managed to spit out, ‘do it at the dinner table, I’m starving and don’t have the energy to defend myself. Let’s go sit with the others.’

You span away from him so quickly you missed him opening and closing his mouth as he tried to explain himself. As you stalked towards the table your friends had gathered around you must’ve been wearing a murderous expression, because Silena quirked her eyebrow at him with a face that said ‘what did you say?’ He responded with a small shrug before slipping into the seat opposite you.

Luke tried, and failed, to catch your eye throughout dinner. Food came and went, and glasses of a sweet amber wine refilled themselves as soon as the last drop hit the drinker’s lips. Silena had made her way through at least five glasses by his count, and was whispering something in Charles’ ear that had the man choking on his strawberry tart. You’d barely touched yours, and had politely declined his offer to get you something else to drink. You’d barely touched your dinner either, pushing things around your plate with your fork until Connor had unceremoniously dumped the contents of it onto his own. He felt he should apologise for his brother’s behaviour, but when he’d tried, you’d turned to watch the campers dancing by the fire.

The soft light from the flames flickered over the planes of your face and he knew he shouldn’t stare, but after starving himself of you for almost a week, he was finding it hard to look away. If he was honest with himself, it had been almost impossible to endure. You’d spent almost every day together for two years; a week apart had him feeling like he was missing a limb.

But a week apart was better than a week of watching male campers saunter up to you in a flurry of proposals. He’d managed to stick around long enough to see two Ares boys crash and burn and that was more than enough. If the failures were that bad, seeing you agree to attend the party with someone would probably have finished him off. He wondered which insufferable git you’d given in to, which one you’d been stood up by.

Curious, he leaned forward and asked loud enough to get your attention- ‘where’s your date?’

You slid your eyes away from the dancers and faced Luke. He was toying with the stem of his glass. Your throat tightened, and your face warmed uncomfortably. ‘I don’t have one.’

‘What?’ He asked incredulously.

‘Loads of people came alone Luke.’ You said replied quietly, keenly aware of the sudden silence of the conversations between everyone else at the table. ‘It’s not a big deal.’

‘I know, I just thought you would’ve put someone out of their misery. Every guy at camp must’ve asked you.’

‘Almost every guy.’ Chris whispered into his drink, rolling his eyes.

‘A few asked, yes.’ You murmured.

‘And you came alone anyway?’

You could’ve sworn Chris was wincing now, and Clarisse had the good sense to find the lights strung above the tables incredibly interesting all of a sudden. Silena however, looked like she was about to explode. You didn’t even know where to begin, your cheeks weren’t warm anymore, they were burning.

‘Yes.’ You ground out, hoping he’d take the hint and keep his mouth shut for once.

Luke went to speak, but Charles cut in before he could begin. ‘We should go dance!’ He declared, slapping his knees over-enthusiastically and standing so quickly he nearly toppled over his chair. The others rose with murmurs of agreement, eager to get away from what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation.

‘You guys go ahead,’ you said, rising from your chair ‘I’m going to get some fresh air.’

You hoped no one would mention that you were already outside, surrounded by fresh air, and thankfully no one did. Silena gave you an apologetic look but you shook it off. The lights suddenly seemed much too bright, and the table of your friends was starting to feel like an audience to your embarrassment. As they all walked towards the fire you began in the opposite direction, lifting your dress slightly to allow your feet to travel quickly towards the cabins.

Luke felt Silena’s hand meet the back of his head in a swift slap before he could reach out to stop it.

‘You are as dense as old bread Castellan!’ She hissed as he cradled his neck. The boys were looking at him disapprovingly, but Clarisse was just glaring at him like she was sizing him up for a fight.

‘Chris where’s my knife?’ She asked coldly, holding her hand out in her boyfriend’s direction.

‘Woah- what did I do?’ Luke exclaimed, which earned him a hard flick right in the centre of his forehead. Whoever said Aphrodite’s children weren’t vicious fighters was beginning to sound like a goddam liar, he thought.

‘Do you know how many guys she turned down for tonight?’ Silena continued, ‘almost every guy at camp! And do you know why Captain No Clue?’

Luke just stared blankly until she let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Because she was waiting for you to ask her! I was hoping you’d pull your finger out by the end of the week but you didn’t, and you let her come alone.’

He flinched. Silena’s face tightened and her dark eyes flicked to Charles. Something unsaid flashed between them before she turned her gaze back on Luke; her anger was gone, replaced with something strangely close to pity.

‘You wanted to ask her, didn’t you?’ She asked- carefully. Her eyes were beginning to crinkle like she was about to burst into tears. She dashed forward and forced him down into a tight hug. ‘Oh Luke, I’m so stupid!’

Clarisse rolled her eyes. ‘Daughter of the goddess of love and you didn’t see this one coming? Even Chris figured this one out!’ She chided, then added sweetly in his direction, ‘no offence babe.’

He thought of every moment he’d spent with you; the hours of sparring sessions under the heat of the summer sun, the picnics out in the strawberry fields, sneaking between your cabins in the middle of the night to swap stories of your lives before all of this. He’d known the risks of falling for you, and he’d done it anyway. He’d thought about telling you a hundred times. He had thought about telling you that he didn’t want or expect anything from you in return, that he just needed you to know how he felt because it was torture to suffer it in silence. Over the months he’d managed to convince himself that you didn’t feel anything close to what he felt for you, and had resigned himself to living in the wake of your existence.

Luke’s heart stumbled, taking all the confusion and doubt with it, he blurted, ‘I should go after her,’ and started after you, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Even at a fast-paced jog, he only managed to catch up with you when you were rushing up the stairs to your cabin, the skirts of your dress billowing out behind you.

‘Wait up!’ he shouted through heavy breaths.

You didn’t let him continue and just increased your pace, rushing to get to the door. If you could make it inside and shut him out, perhaps he wouldn’t see the tears that had begun fall. A small part of you ached to stop and turn to him, but you knew what was coming. Silena would have tried to intervene once you’d left, and he was probably coming after you to let you down gently. You weren’t sure you could survive that.

‘Gods will you slow down!’ Luke yelled, ‘I want to talk to you!’

‘Don’t bother,’ you said bluntly, ‘I know what you’re going to say.’

‘Oh yeah? What am I going to say?’

He’d taken the Athena cabin steps two at a time and was right behind you now. You could hear his ragged breathing, had he ran here? He must really want to get it over with, you thought bitterly. ‘Does it matter? Just go back to the party Luke, they’ll be missing you.’

‘It matters to me. I don’t want to be there if you’re not.’ He said softly and reached out to grab your hand. His fingers grazed your own, warm and steadfast- patiently waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t, you couldn’t bare it.

As you turned to face him fully you realised you were close enough to share breath. In other circumstances you might’ve stared up at him with longing; now all there seemed to be was the awful sinking feeling that you were about to lose him.

You opted to not meet his eyesight, and instead studied the scuffed wood of the cabin porch beneath your feet.

‘Then why didn’t you ask me to go with you?’ You managed to ask. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin like a brand. ‘I thought we were friends Luke, I thought that would be enough to get you to tolerate me for one evening so neither of us had to go alone.’

‘That’s not..’ he took a deep breath before he continued. Now or never, he thought, and opted for now.

‘I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want to go as your friend. I wanted to go as your date. I knew you’d say no, because every guy here was chalking up how to ask you themselves and I couldn’t- I couldn’t stand it. I’d prepared myself to see you with someone else tonight and it caught me off guard to see you alone. I had all these things I wanted to say to you, about how beautiful you looked, but I panicked and said some really stupid stuff back there. And i’m sorry, for all of it.’

It was your turn to take a deep breath, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his own. The air was too tight, humming between your bodies, between your joined hands.

‘Ask me now then.’ You dared.

He was silent for long enough that you dared to look up and meet his eyes. You were sure your expression was mirrored on his own: shock, longing, and then something like amusement.

He was smiling like a kid on Christmas at your offer, broad and unrestrained. ‘You want me to ask you to go to the party with me? Now? After I’ve just poured my heart out?’

‘If you don’t want to that fine.’ You teased, a small smile returning to your face. ‘What was it you said about every guy at camp?’

Luke let out a laugh and took a step closer, ‘I don’t care about the party. Go on a date with me. Tomorrow, today, hell let’s go now. I don’t care. Just go out with me. I’m not waiting another two years for this chance.’

‘Of course I’ll go out with you Castellan.’ You replied softly. You didn’t even have to think about your answer, you’d been preparing it for months.

‘Really?’

‘Yes really.’ You laughed and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

With a sudden burst of confidence, Luke leaned down to brush his mouth against your blushing cheek. You thought you might burst then and there as he pulled you into his chest to whisper in your ear, ‘you look beautiful. You are beautiful. Always. Even covered in sweat during sparring practice, or windswept from the chariot races. I can never look away from you.’

He was blushing too when he pulled away, leaving you staring up at him, breathless again. His smile was nervous as he said, ‘I want to do this properly, I’ll plan something great I promise. But for now, I would be honoured if you’d come back to the party with me, as my date.’

You quirked an eyebrow. ‘Will you dance with me?’

‘Of course I’ll dance with you,’ Luke said, wrapping an arm around your waist, ‘I plan to show you off in fact. I’m pretty sure I’ve just achieved the impossible as far as the guys here are aware. I reserve bragging rights.’

[rileys-battlecats]

micaclan tumblr dash simulator

☁️ the-fluffiest-puddle follow

I cannot believe the things my friends talk me into. on an unrelated note where can you hide a baby coyote

#puddletalks #seriously where did they find that thing #and WHY did they keep it??

(3 notes)

⭐️ larkstar-unofficial follow

if you catch prey and eat it before bringin anything back to the clan i'll kill you on sight <3 many such cases, unfortunately

🌠 larkstar-official follow

Laureltail I know this is you. I've told you twice now to delete this blog. Meet me in my den this evening, we're having a talk

⭐️ larkstar-unofficial follow

chat i think im going to die tonight

#remember me #never forget my sacrifice

(24 notes)

🐆 speckled-trees-and-autumn-leaves follow

people looove to ask me "oh birchspeckle tell me the future, will the clan thrive this greenleaf, will i find a mate that loves me" but then the SECOND i tell them the exact time and date of their death suddenly I'M the bad guy?? like ok sweaty you're the one that was after forbidden knowledge you don't get to be choosy about what you learn

#justmedicinecatthings #seriously they get so upset when they learn this stuff like. how do you think i feel? #i just gotta sit on this information forever? im not allowed to vent?? #this is why i never hang out in the camp smh

(1 note)

🐦‍⬛ muddy-paws follow

anybody else finding the torment relentless

(0 notes)

💊 owlpounce-official follow

This is your reminder to stretch before partaking in any strenuous activity! The best way to stay healthy and happy is to take steps to avoid being hurt in the first place. Stretching first may seem like a waste of time, but I promise it's much better to spend a few minutes stretching your legs before hunting than to spend a few days in the medicine den recovering from a pulled muscle!

#PSA #selfcare #safe practices

(15 notes)

🍐 having-a-peary-good-day follow

I don't want to name any names, but I feel like we as a clan have an issue with delegation of labor when it comes to the care of our most vulnerable members. Watching the kits is all well and good, but as the only current queen in the nursery right now, I find myself doing so much repair work for the den walls all by myself. Nominally, our apprentices ought to be doing much of this work, but quite frankly, our 'paws simply don't have the necessary experience to fix the more delicate areas, and I have ended up redoing much of their work myself. This isn't to disparage our apprentices, they've been doing their best, but I have ideas as to how we might better address these issues as a clan.

Keep reading

#genuinely I think we could be doing this so much more efficiently #like I understand that the 'paws need the learning experience #but not at the cost of our kitten's warmth and safety #you know? #and that's not even mentioning the elder's den

(7 notes)

💫 swooping-hawk-rising-star follow

fffksnkd. Ssssssksdjsj,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,h

🪷 white-tipped-tail follow

You ok, Hawkpaw?

💫 swooping-hawk-rising-star follow

COYOTE PUP ON MY KEYBOARD

#HELP

(4 notes)

🦊 foxjaw-official follow

The dawn patrol spotted bear tracks this morning just past the northeastern border, near the old hemlock tree. The tracks were old, and did not lead into Micaclan territory. Be that as it may, remember to remain on guard, and to travel in groups of 3 or more until it can be confirmed that the bear has not remained close by.

#PSA #patrol reports

(15 notes)

🏞️ gullys-tuft follow

Why is Sandleap retching into the bushes

#should i really be asking? #do i even want to know?

(2 notes)

🌸 resting-on-your-laurels follow

gonna stuff a frog inside a squirrel for my morning meal. surf and terf

🌸 resting-on-your-laurels follow

dont do this

🔥 embers-and-sparks follow

you can't tell me what to do

🔥 embers-and-sparks follow

dont do this

🏜️ pocket-sand follow

It can't be that bad!

🏜️ pocket-sand follow

dont do this

#the texture #its so bad #i dont want to waste prey but. i dont think i can swallow this #not pogchamp

(13 notes)

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[archivists-decay]

I've been playing Great God Grove from @limbolanegames over and over again recently (If you're seeing this, go give @yugsly and @daylane some serious love! It's a wonderful experience) and I have a very tiny headcanon that the ascended gods actually have very little influence over the world in the traditional "god power" sense.

Some story and ending spoilers under the cut.

My headcanon is that they have some influence, like Miss Mitternacht's crying leading to flooding, Cobigail's vines (which, I'm not entirely sure were even intentional to begin with,) but rather, the benefit of Godhood comes from being given immortality (read: an infinite amount of time to further develop a skill) and notoriety (read: everyone believing you are THE subject matter expert of the namesake you embody).

When Bauhauzzo talks about being only being able to assist you in BuzzHuzz with his voice, I don't think that's just because he's "only" the God of Memory – I think it's because that's about the extent of their greater influence as gods.

Their eternity spent honing their crafts makes their opinions on the subjects infallible to the people - even if we know they aren't.

Click Clack's last few scripts have been terrible? Well, we think they suck, but we have to get them to post anyways – he sees something we don't.

Bauhauzzo wants innovation banned from BuzzHuzz? Seems out of character, but he's remembering something we don't.

Their voices, or what the people believe are their voices, are listened to with reverence when it comes to their field of mastery — and I think that's one of the reasons King might have said some things to Inspekta that he interpreted as "disrespectful."

In the 30+ years of his godhood, Inspektas ideas of Leadership have clearly severely regressed from his time as a human – mostly due to his insecurities, granted – but he didn't spend any of that time polishing up what leadership meant, or helping others grow in their own leadership, instead, resting on his laurels of being adored and keeping his men down so that they continually lift him up. King probably caught on to this and tried to have a heart to heart with him, one that just...was poorly received.

My headcanon makes me think that, tragically, Inspekta had the potential to become one of the most influential and beloved gods in the grove overtime anyways if he had spent as much time working on his genuine leadership as he had plotting and being envious of the others. Not being tied down to a specific location in the grove, having a loyal group of activists willing to spread his ideas about leadership, on top of his skillset being just, a really good general aptitude that anyone can benefit from. Just some thoughts.

Addendum: Also, I think it's interesting that it almost seems like mortals have more power over the pantheon in this Universe. Sure, the gods close the rift, but the rest of the time? Mortals can exile (Huzzle Mug), abandon (Cobigail was left alone for 20 YEARS), and twist the words and intentions (Pretty much everyone) of the gods like it's nothing with very little consequences from the gods themselves — it's a refreshing approach to a fictional mythology and something I'd like to see explored more in fiction.

Anyways, thanks for letting me ramble! I've been thinking about these silly queers all week.

[libraryofgage]

Life in Miniature (One)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedediah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One (you're here!)

There will be more Jedtavius in the next parts I promise, I just thought this would be a funner introduction to the AU lmao

I just love those little guy dudes from the museum so much hfjdks and now we get two pairs of them

Also, fun fact, I took Steve's Roman name from, like, an actual king of Rome. The actual sixth king. He seemed like a chill dude.

Anyway, there's a meme at the end and as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---------

When Robin took this job as a night guard, she didn't think the previous guard's words about history coming to life at night was, you know, real. She thought it was a joke, a predictable and corny joke, but a joke nonetheless.

But now, after being chased by a T-Rex, getting saved by Theodore Roosevelt, and almost being taken captive by fucking Attila the Hun, Robin thinks this job definitely isn't worth $16.50 an hour. Then again, this is the best paying job she's had in a while, and she was living a nocturnal life anyway.

Robin groans, leaning against a wall in the diorama exhibit, and slides down to the floor. She lets her head fall back against the wall, her eyes slipping shut as she slides. "This is crazy. This is insane. I need to find a fucking weapon or something," she mutters.

"Pardon me," comes a voice close to her head, "but might you be the goddess Diana?"

As pick-up lines go, it's not the worst one she's heard. And, based on what she knows of Greek and Roman deities, it wouldn't be too far off. Still, she does not want to be hit on by whatever weird historical thing is trying to flirt with her.

Robin takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and says, "Do I look like a goddess to you?"

She looks to her left where the voice came from, blinking when her gaze falls on a figurine that would barely reach her ankle. He's dressed in a toga with a chest plate, wrist guards, a sword on his waist, and a deep purple cape over his shoulders. His hair is, honestly, the most impressive thing Robin has ever seen, made only more impressive by the golden laurels resting perfectly against his temples.

He's looking at her with wide eyes, more awed than anything else. "Yes," he says. "I have heard the gods are larger than life."

Okay. Fair.

"Why Diana, man?" Robin asks.

He tilts his head, studying her for a moment, looking her up and down. "You give me the same feeling as statues of Noble Diana with her Huntresses," he explains, pausing for a moment before adding, "A feeling of kinship, perhaps?"

Oh. This...this is like ancient Roman gaydar, right? Robin snorts and turns, resting her elbow on her knee. "I'm definitely not Diana. My name is Robin. I'm the new night guard."

His eyes brighten some, his smile growing wider and certainly charming enough to make the hearts of a few girls and guys flutter. "I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army."

Robin nods, letting all of the those words process in her head before saying, "Mind if I call you Steve? You look like a Steve."

The Sixth King of Rome blinks, looking slightly confused before his eyes light up with understanding. "Ah! A nickname! Yes, I am familiar with this concept. You may call me Steve, Lady Robin, as a show of our newfound friendship."

"Yeah, don't call me Lady Robin. Just Robin is fine," she says, hesitating before offering her hand to Steve.

"As you wish, Just Robin," he says, stepping carefully onto her hand and remaining steady as she raises him higher.

Robin blinks, frowning slightly and about to correct him again when she sees his smile and realizes it's a joke. "Okay, very funny, dingus," she says, carefully poking his side.

"Is dingus another nickname? It sounds like an insult."

"It usually is, but it's affectionate when I say it."

"Oh! Yes, like when Ockie calls Jed a philistine."

"Uh, sure," Robin says, nodding once as she lets Steve move to stand on her shoulder. He quickly sits, holding onto the collar of her jacket as she carefully stands up. "Hey, you know what I'm supposed to do about the dinosaur bones?"

"Rexy? Yes, he enjoys a game of fetch."

"Fetch. Of course."

----------

"What's going on in that head of yours, little man?"

Steve blinks, looks over at Jedediah, and raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm taller than you," he says, gesturing to the good inch he has on Jedediah.

"As long as you're my son, you're a little man."

Doing his best to not laugh, Steve nods once and points to the new diorama set up in the middle of the room. It's a circular diorama, centered on an equally circular stage divided into sections. A cacophony of noise echoes from it, clashing as each slice of the stage fights for dominance. "I'm trying to figure out what in Jupiter's name they're doing over there," he says.

"Well, most of it sounds like music," Jedediah says, "I think."

"It's not any music I've heard before," Octavius says, coming to a stop next to Jedediah and frowning at the diorama. "I would have assumed it the unholy shrieking of the damned."

"Perhaps it would be nicer if they weren't all playing at once," Steve suggests, hands on his hips as he tilts his head.

"Oh, boy, there it is," Jedediah says, his grin audible in his tone. "He's got the King Face."

"What are your intentions, my boy?" Octavius asks.

Before Steve can answer, Robin strolls into the room, grinning when she sees the raving diorama in the middle. She walks over to Steve, Jedediah, and Octavius, crouches down, and says, "Hey, guys. I see you're checking out the History of Rock display."

"History of Rock?" Steve asks.

"What in the sweet hell do rocks have to do with that mess?" Jedediah asks, gesturing to the noisy stage.

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, like, rock music. It's a genre. Anyway, it was sponsored by some musician, so it's a permanent display now."

"And they will be...playing every night?" Octavius asks.

"Probably."

Steve frowns a little more and nods, rolling his shoulders back. "If they are a permanent fixture in our hallowed hall, they must be welcomed. As Sixth King of Rome, this duty falls upon my shoulders. Fathers, I shall return shortly."

"Woah, woah, hold your horses there, little man," Jedediah says, moving to stand in front of Steve. "You're not going anywhere near that snake pit without some back up."

"A few centurions, at least," Octavius agrees.

"I will have Robin. What better protection is there?"

Jedediah and Octavius glance at each other before looking at Robin. She grins and offers them a two finger salute. "I'll guard him with my life," she says, "It's literally my job."

With that reassurance, Jedediah and Octavius move out of the way. Steve steps onto Robin's hand and settles on her shoulder with practiced ease, ignoring the nervous flutter in his stomach at greeting the new museum residents. He hopes they'll get along, but he also knows the might of his Roman army and the railroad workers can crush any who stand in their way.

Robin stops next to the diorama, tilting her head as she studies it. This close, Steve can see the bands playing on each slice of stage, the instruments and fashion shifting as his gaze travels around it. "Uh, excuse me," Robin says, raising her voice.

The raucous noise from the diorama screeches to a halt, the feedback making Robin and Steve grimace slightly. "Uh, hi. We're the official welcome crew for the Hall of Miniatures here. So, I'll need someone to represent your, like, whole display," Robin says, glancing over the bands until she finds one she recognizes. "Okay, I know you guys, so I'll be designating you the spokesband. Now, could the lead singer step forward?"

Steve watches as someone on the "Corroded Coffin" (what an odd name for a band) slice of the stage steps forward. Robin offers her hand to them, carefully lifting it away once they step on. "Great, uh, carry on, I guess. But, like, maybe play some of your quieter stuff for a bit," she says, her words barely out before the music starts up and the crowds start screaming once more.

She sighs and just walks over to the bench, letting off the person on her hand before letting Steve slide down her arm in a move they spent nearly three weeks practicing if only because they knew it would look cool.

When he hops onto the bench, Steve walks up to the other miniature, a man his age with long hair and odd clothes with tears that Robin once said were fashionable. His instrument is still slung over his shoulders, resting casually against his hips much like Steve's sword. Steve suddenly finds himself thinking that the man looks a little like a warrior. An odd one, to be sure, but a handsome one nonetheless.

He flashes his most charming smile, lets his shoulders relax, and says, "My friend here is Robin, Guardian of Brooklyn. I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods, and adopted son of Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and Octavius, general of the Roman army. You, however, may call me Steve."

-----

As far as Eddie was concerned, nothing mattered so long as Corroded Coffin got to keep rocking in an endless concert. The energy never waned, the set list never grew boring, and the music never stopped. He was ready to inform this welcoming crew of just that and promise Hell on Earth if they tried to disrupt the music (angry concert goers are a force of nature), when the words just died in his throat.

Because the most gorgeous man he's ever seen slides down that giant lady's arm, easily and smoothly landing on the bench. Somehow, his hair is perfectly windswept, the golden laurels glinting in the lights above them. His purple cape flutters softly as he walks closer, his toned thighs on full display with the toga hem that falls to the middle of them. There's a sword on the guy's hip, a chest plate that Eddie wants to pull off, a smile he wants to taste, and a pair of freckles right next to each other on the guy's cheek he wants to drag his tongue across.

He misses most of the introduction because he's too busy staring. He gets the important bits, though: Robin, a king, son of a god, adopted son of two dads. Eddie licks his lips nervously, a grin of his own tugging at his lips as he steps forward and playfully bows. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty," he says.

It's supposed to come out joking, a little poke at the guy's authority to see if he can be riled up. It actually comes out way too genuine, and Eddie has a sudden realization that he meant it. He absolutely will accept this guy as his king, actually. He'll fall to his knees before him right now if asked, and not just because it might give him a little peek under the dude's toga.

"Please, just call me Steve. There's no need to be so formal."

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, hoping Steve doesn't realize that the things Eddie is thinking about (the things he wants to do to and with Steve) are just about the least formal things on this earth. "Good to know," he says, relieved his voice sounds normal as he stands up straight and offers his hand. "Name's Eddie Munson, uh, lead singer of Corroded Coffin."

Steve blinks, and his smile becomes a bit more genuine as he steps closer and clasps Eddie's forearm. "A fellow leader," he says, squeezing Eddie's arm. "Welcome to our museum."

"Y-yeah," Eddie says, his arm still tingling when Steve lets go. He clears his throat, idly tugging on a few strands of hair. "So, uh, what's the deal around here? I mean, giant women...Roman kings...cowboys, it looks like."

"Our noble museum is home to Pharoah Ahkmenrah and his tablet, which brings the exhibits to life each night," Steve explains.

"There's a few rules, though," Robin says, sitting down on the bench behind Steve. "One, no getting into fights. Two, be back in your display by sunrise. Three, no leaving the museum at night."

"What? Why not?"

"We have lost good exhibits to Sol Invictus's morning rays," Steve says, frowning slightly. "So, be careful."

Eddie stares at Steve with wide eyes as he nods, amazed at the fact that Steve seems to talk like that so genuinely. And the fact that Eddie is...kinda into it. Holy shit, that's not helping with Eddie's whole "fall to his knees" thing. He wouldn't mind some good old-fashioned worship if Steve would just smile at him again.

Maybe his prayers are heard, because Steve smiles at him again. "Wonderful," he says. "Now, Eddie, could I interest you in a tour of the museum tonight?"

"Oh, you could interest me in a lot of things, sweetheart," Eddie blurts out, his mouth running faster than his brain.

He snaps his jaw shut, relieved and horrified at Steve's slightly confused expression and Robin's "I know what you are" thousand-yard stare from over his shoulder. Before he can try to backtrack, Steve snaps, understanding in his eyes. "Ah! Sweetheart is a nickname, yes? I accept your offer of friendship."

Eddie clenches his jaw, stopping himself from saying that it's more than friendships he's offering, and smiles. "Yeah. A nickname. That's all. I'm just...a nickname kinda guy. I'll probably think of more, too, Stevie. Like that."

Steve practically beams, and Eddie feels his knees go weak. "I look forward to it," he says, turning on his heel to look at Robin, who thankfully schools her expression. "Robin, this is where we leave you for the night. You have my word that Eddie will be back in place before sunrise."

"Well, you two kids have fun," she says, grinning in a way that immediately puts Eddie on edge. "I'd better not hear about any funny business, though. Absolutely no bases should be reached tonight, and you'd better not do any conquering or pillaging."

She definitely looks at Eddie when she says that last bit. Eddie stiffens, doing his best to hold back a blush when Steve glances over at his, the confusion clear on his face. "Conquering requires more planning than this, Robin. I've told you before."

"Don't worry about it, dingus. Just have fun. Here, I'll even call a ride for you," she says, winking at them before turning, holding her fingers to her mouth, and whistling sharply.

Steve walks over to Eddie right as the ground starts to shake, easily catching him around the waist before he can lose his balance. "The shaking does take some getting used to," he says, his tone full of sympathy and obliviousness to the crisis Eddie is experiencing.

When his brain finally catches up enough to ask what he's talking about, a dinosaur skeleton slides into the room, its body wiggling excitedly as it growls. Eddie jerks back, the arm around his waist tightening some. "What the fuck?!" he shouts.

"Worry not," Steve says, leaning closer. His voice is a little softer now, his breath fanning over Eddie's ear. "This is Rexy, our steed for the evening. He's very friendly."

"Friendly," Eddie mumbles, letting himself be dragged over to Rexy and placed on the dinosaur's head by Robin. "The dinosaur is friendly."

"Many of the exhibits are," Steve tells him, grinning brightly as Rexy begins moving after a pet on the snout from Robin.

Eddie looks at him, feeling blinded by Steve's smile once more, and completely forgets about the living dinosaur skeleton.

--------

Lemme know if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

(Also I know there are like one or two upcoming parent AUs that people have asked to be tagged in and I tried to see if this was one of them but couldn't find anyone for the life of me hfjdks so I'm sorry if you asked on another post and I missed you orz)

And, finally, a meme for you

[physalian]

Character Types: Self-Destructive Paragon

I just came up with that term right now to describe characters whose philosophy is: I will be good and kind even if it kills me.

If you have a more apropos one, I’d love to hear it.

But I think being a “self-destructive paragon” with emphasis on the self-destruction is to be good out of spite, to be cynically optimistic, to do the right thing because fuck, no one else is going to, the world is shit, people can be shit, but I will not be people.

Similar to the Fixer but more self-aware and less of a doormat, the SDP is a character I think the world needs more of to stand against toxic positivity and exhausting silver linings.

Instead of “the world is good and I’m going to prove it :D” in the face of daunting misery and suffering, it’s “the world is messy and complicated and we are all suffering, but I have the means to do good, and nothing will stand in my way”.

Painfully naïve characters are not compelling (to me). They’re preachy, they always need rescuing, they strawman cynics and pessimists, and when they do face a situation they cannot put a positive spin on, they still hold the moral high ground with little room for nuance, and they tend to get into situations that no other character would be stupid and/or gullible enough to fall into.

It would be like if Katara was actually the Ember Island Players’ version of her for the entire show. Or, Aang’s caricature.

But she’s not. She’s suffered and been burned and humbled and isn’t at all afraid to get her hands dirty and risk her life doing what she thinks is right, like in "The Painted Lady". But she’s also messy and complicated, nearly killing a man in her revenge quest in "The Southern Raiders".

Katara will be good and kind and just and fair and noble, putting her life on the line again and again to prove it, but she's not as angsty (and not self-destructive) as the two examples I have in mind.

SDPs also tend to be written in bad faith, or as a bastion of virtue against other characters written in bad faith, depending on where you fall on the “hope is vital/hope is for children” spectrum for the message of your book.

Usually, other characters’ criticisms of the painfully naïve are that they have not suffered and their virtue signaling is tone deaf to their audience of people who cannot afford the luxury of looking on the bright side.

So, enter the self-destructive paragon.

This is a character who probably suffered deeply, for a long time, and who was painfully naïve until they had their wakeup call. But instead of devolving into a selfish cynic, they decided to not only be better, but to put their money where their mouth is and do better.

This is a character who was probably mocked and dragged down again and again by cynics who want to make them as miserable as the rest of the world, and gosh darn it, they just won’t break.

They might risk their lives, their health, their stability, or their reputation trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, determined to help someone they’re convinced just can’t see that they need help yet. Or, they might be a Robin Hood figure, blithely shuffling resources around with some worldly calluses on their soul.

Or, they might have faith in the world, but have zero faith in themselves, making themselves the exception for every grace they extend to other people.

Even if their “self-destruction” is a permanent rage against the system and the cynicism, giving themselves fully to their cause and losing their sense of “self” in the process, this is a character compelled to go beyond their means, no matter the cost. These characters tend to not even think of themselves as "heroes" to be praised, they're just doing what they think is right and might suffer a bit of imposter syndrome when the laurels come their way.

I like these characters because of their fierce honesty, and the knife’s edge upon which they walk. You understand their morality and their integrity explicitly, and the lengths they will go to stand up for what they believe in can have horrible unintended consequences.

And who’s a better self-destructive, angsty do-gooder than the Dark Knight himself? Specifically the iterations where he isn't going around branding and murdering people. BTAS-era. Bats doesn’t give himself a break and he’s my favorite DC hero in large part because he has a villain’s backstory straight-up, and chooses to be good.

Spoiled little rich kid watches his parents get murdered and inherits impossible wealth and could very easily use all that money, power, and influence to become a supervillain in adulthood. He has the costume, the aesthetic, the brutality, the motive, and the means.

But Batman is a hero, and he will do good and be good, even if it kills him. He spits in the face of every real-world billionaire who rests on their winnings, every person in power who so superficially laments the plight of the poor. Is he perfect? Nope, but that’s more of the limitations set by the people who write him and not his character itself. He might not be a complete cynic about the state of the world, but he sure is a cynic about himself or as the Nolan Bats said: “I’m whatever Gotham needs me to be.” Even if that makes him a pariah to preserve the reputation of a better man (in his mind) so that Gotham can have their faith rewarded.

Raven of DC’s Teen Titans is also a self-destructive paragon, another character with the motive and the means to easily become a villain and be the worst thing to happen to the world, but chooses not to. Specifically the 2003 cartoon version. She’s been fated to bring about the end of the world, daughter of a ruthless villain whose sole purpose for existing is to be his portal. Her whole life she’s kept people at a distance, refusing to let people in to get her hopes up and have good things so she doesn’t have to lose and hurt them.

But she is a hero. Per Robin, “the most hopeful person I know”. And she will be good, even if it kills her.

—

I know "hero born from villainy whose personality is Angst" (Gaara fits well) is the bread and butter of shonen edgy bad boys but the difference I'm trying to highlight is how quickly these characters will throw themselves on their own swords, with crippling self-worth issues.

So of course I wrote them. Thrice.

One in Eternal Night of the Northern Sky on Amazon

And two in Little Red Dot up on Ao3

[hero21us]

Gold Reigns Supreme

Brody, a dedicated member of the Golden Army soccer team, has always admired Trey’s track and field prowess. He follows Trey’s career closely, inspired by his relentless dedication and impressive achievements. However, recently, Brody heard unsettling rumors about Trey’s sudden disinterest in his sport and his peculiar obsession with a black rubber polo shirt. This strange behavior reminded Brody of his former teammate, Christian, who had disappeared soon after obtaining a similar shirt.

Brody decides to reach out to Trey.  Trey agrees to meet at a local outside gym.  Trey is sitting alone on a bench, lost in thought when Brody catches sight of him.  Taking a deep breath Brody walks over, his heart pounding with anxiety and anticipation.

“Hey, Bro,” Brody begins, trying to sound casual. “Thanks for meeting me.  I heard about your experience with a black polo shirt.  How are you doing?  Trey looks up, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and apprehension. “Brody, thanks for reaching out.  It’s been tough but I’m okay.” 

“Trey, Brody begins, you may remember that the Golden Army brought on a new wingback, Christian #55, a few months ago.  Wanting to prove himself during his first game he did not stay in his position or listen to our captains’ instructions ultimately costing us the match.  His life became hell after that match.  One day he showed up to practice wearing a black rubber polo just like the one you described. 

He began handing out the polos to the team saying that we would win if we became one, obey and serve.  Some of the team seeing his focus and intensity accepted the shirts. They all quickly stopped caring about the team and our matches.  All they wanted was for everyone to start wearing the polos.  When no one else on the team would accept the polos, Christian and those who did all vanished.”

Brody continues, “Reading the stories about your experience I am hoping you might have some information or insight that can help me to find out what happened to Christian and the rest of my teammates.”

Trey takes a deep breath and begins to share his experience. “It all started when I received a package from 009, filled with advanced workout gear. Each outfit seemed to enhance my performance, but the last item was different—a black ‘Fred Perry’ rubber polo shirt. When I put it on, I felt an incredible surge of energy.  I was able to focus, increase the intensity of my workouts and be more synchronized with the team while running the 4x400 relay.

One night after a great workout two men in black came up from behind and put a gas mask on me.  The gas did something to change me.  I no longer had a will.  I existed to obey, serve, be one with my brother drones in the collective.  Our command was to make all men one, united in the black rubber polo.  I was specifically commanded to not wear the polo but to spread the love of all things rubber and polo.  I was to put the shirt on at night along with a gas mask.  The tight rubber shirt on my skin combined with the gas was intoxicating.  It was so powerful and overwhelming that it became impossible for me to act normal.  I needed the rubber and the gas.  I needed to be one with the collective at all times.” 

“I couldn’t have broken free without my friends.”  Trey continues.  “They physically tore the polo off of me and destroyed the gas mask.” 

As Trey and Brody talked a figure emerges from the shadows striding toward them.  Its movements are unnervingly precise, its body clad in black rubber with a black “Fred Perry” buttoned up polo with gold accents and a laurel leaf on its left pec.  Most striking of all was the gas mask obscuring its face, the lenses dark and impenetrable.

It carried another gas mask in its hand.

“Trey,” the figure states in a voice that is deep, monotone and eerily robotic, yet disturbingly human. It is less a voice and more a command programmed to sound alive. “You are required to wear this.”

Trey jumps up, a chill running down his spine, a look of terror on his face.  He remembers the nights he spent under the influence of the gas, how it clouded his mind and made him act against his will. "What the hell? No way! Never again!” "I won't go back," "I’m not a puppet, and I won’t let the collective control me."

But the drone persists; "Resistance is futile. The collective will prevail," he drones, reaching out to place the mask on Trey with mechanical precision.  "You must return to the collective. Your purpose is to spread the unity of the collective." “For your safety. Resistance is prohibited.” 

Brody steps forward; his tone confrontational. “Hey, back off! You’re not forcing anything on him.” 

The polo drone’s head tilts slightly, as if recalculating its approach. 

"Resistance is futile. The collective will prevail." It states matter-of-factly as it suddenly lunges at Brody, attempting to secure the mask over his face. Brody dodges, shoving the polo drone back. Trey joins the fray, grabbing the drone’s arm and pulling it away from Brody.  The gas mask it is holding falling to the ground.

The battle is fierce, each moment filled with tension and determination.  The polo drone displays remarkable force, but its movements seem pre‑programmed, predictable. Trey manages to lock its arms behind its back while Brody reaches for the polo drone’s mask.

The polo drone fights like an animal; its desperation palpable. It claws and thrashes, trying to reclaim the gas mask and put it on Trey. But Brody and Trey hold tight, their combined strength overpowering the drone's frantic attempts.

“If there’s someone under this, we’re pulling them out!” Brody yells, his fingers prying at the mask’s straps.

The polo drone’s muffled voice protests. “Unauthorized action. Cease immediately.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Brody grunts. With a final tug, the mask comes free landing on the sidewalk, and the two friends stumble backward.

Beneath the mask is a pale, sweating face. The man looks disoriented, his eyes blinking rapidly as if waking from a nightmare.

“Who... where am I?” the man stammers, his voice trembling.

“Christian!” Brody snaps. “Is it really you?”  You just tried to force that gas mask on me!”

Christian looks at the two masks on the ground and begins to reach out for one before Trey stops him.  He reaches for it again becoming more agitated.  Brody holds him tight.  Christian’s attempts become more frantic, his addiction driving him wild. But Brody keeps an iron grip on him determined to keep him away from the mask.

"Look into my eyes Christian. “You will be okay,” Brody states, his eyes beginning to glow gold, while offering Christian a big hug.  “We are here for you!” 

Slowly Christian begins to calm down.  He stares at his own trembling fingers.

“Where have you been for the past few months?” Brody asks.

“I—I don’t remember. The last thing I recall, I was at Pulse waiting for Cap.  He arrived with someone else who I didn’t know. Then... nothing.” 

While explaining and continuing to stare into Brody's gold eyes and the aura of gold that now completely surrounds him, the gold begins to return to Christian’s eyes.  Slowly the black polo is absorbed into Christian’s skin as his gold jersey reemerges bringing a clarity to his mind. 

In a trance like state, Christian continues; “Bros, after I f*cked up during the match I went into a deep depression.  I lost all my confidence.  When cap put the polo on me, I felt my focus, intensity and ability to synchronize with the team return. It was empowering.  Then the gas mask was put on me and all that focus changed to obeying, serving and growing a collective. Nothing else mattered.”

“What are you saying?”  Brody asks.

“It was not the polo that made me fight for the collective but the gas.  I can still feel the polo within me.  It is now part of my being.  It has united itself to the gold within me to sharpen my focus and intensity in order to support the golden army.”

Impulsively Trey decides he must destroy the gas masks. Spotting two kids walking through the park on the way to baseball practice, he runs toward them and grabs a bat from one of them. Running back, he is about to smash the masks.

"Stop!" Brody yells. Trey freezes in place. "What?"

Without a word Brody grabs a mask, and to the horror of Trey and Christian, places it over his face. He becomes frozen and blank his individuality beginning to drain as the mask blacks out Brody's gold eyes. At that exact moment a group of polo drones emerges and surrounds the three men holding polos and gas masks repeating: "You will submit. You will obey."

Brody is standing frozen in place lost to the gas. The drones are approaching. Time seems to have stopped for Christian and Trey not knowing what to do.

Brody's head twitches slightly. It begins to shake. The back eye sockets start to glow. Brighter and brighter as a gold spiral appears. Brody's gold aura shines brighter than it ever had before. His jersey becomes metallic in nature and shine. The entire mask turns gold and a gold gas seeps out from the edges of the mask.

The polo drones freeze mid step.

After what seems an eternity to Christian and Trey, but is only a few seconds, Brody removes the gas mask as if nothing had happened.

The eye sockets of all the polo drones surrounding them have become gold spirals. A gold gas can be seen swirling behind the lenses. They stand erect facing Brody and in unison intone: "We are one. We obey gold. We serve gold. Gold is supreme. Awaiting commands."

"Gather all drones to the pitch where team management will provide instructions," Brody commands. The drones turn and walk away in unisan.

Brody, Christian and Trey, all exhausted and overwhelmed, leave the park supporting one another to find a place where they can rest and process all they have just experienced.

A few months later Trey wins Olympic gold in the 4X400 wearing his gold proudly wanting nothing to do with polos or drones. Christian rejoins Brody and the team on the pitch wearing his black rubber polo during the day filled with confidence, focus and intensity while easily shifting into his gold jersey which shines brighter and stronger than it ever had before. The polo drones remain mindless and obedient to every command of the collective which has become gold. The collective supports the Golden Army in all things. It only assimilating members of the golden family who willingly submit. The polos obedience being reinforced by wearing the black rubber polos and the gold gas flowing through their masks.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy pride! Can you write more of that god!Zagreus fic?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Thanatos guides Megara to the place known as the Prince’s Court, stepping into the throne room to see his dark head and fiery laurels bent over a long table. Clustered around him are those whom he used to rest amongst battling his way through the underworld – not just Sisyphus, but the nymph Eurydice and the warrior Patroclus.

Barely more than acquaintances, really, and yet Zagreus has folded them into his confidence, a confidence extended neither to him nor Megara. Again.

He does not tell them when he intends to escape the underworld nor does he tell them when he cracks it open and burrows into a place of his own making. What did those three do that he hadn’t?

Zagreus looks over, smiles, then sees Meg and frowns. Instead of addressing her, he turns to Patroclus and says, “We might as well just tell Achilles outright at this point. If we’re not quick about it he’ll find out from someone else, which is probably best to be avoided.”

“I think it would serve him right, actually,” Patroclus answers, a small smile curling around the edges of his mouth.

Megara lets out a shriek, angry enough to earn her status as a Fury on that alone, and launches herself at Zagreus whips first.

Everyone else scatters, even Patroclus backing up with his hands raised even though he’s a good enough warrior to at least slow Megara down. Thanatos thinks uncharitable thoughts about loyalty to their god and king even though the truth of it is that they’re smart enough to keep from being dragged into the middle of a lover’s quarrel.

Zagreus lets the whips hit him and yet for once he does not bleed.

No rich mortal blood falls from his skin, instead the whips slamming into him and then sliding off.

“Meg, don’t be mad,” he says soothingly. “I just didn’t want to put you in an awkward position-”

“You’re not bleeding,” she says blankly, her rage banked by confusion.

He glances down on his arms. “Oh, oops. Do you want me to? I can, but also we could talk this out.”

“Or move the battle to somewhere that won’t harm my architecture,” Sisyphus pipes up. Eurydice elbows him, looking horrified, while Patroclus just remains amused.

Zagreus inclines his head in their direction. “Or that.”

“Don’t give me a reason to start with you,” Megara hisses at Sisyphus. “Zagreus, what the fuck is happening? What’s with you?” She storms forward to grab his arm, yanking it around, searching his skin for some break. “You’ve always bled. Even when we were children.”

He softens, offering his wrist to her mouth and her very sharp teeth.

Megara grips it, dragging it forward and biting into him as if he’s the first bite of a feast and she’s starving.

Zagreus winces, but leaves his wrist in her mouth. Thanatos feels warm and uncomfortable all over, something intimate there that he always avoids seeing between them. She releases him and her teeth are red with his blood and blood falls down his arm in rivulets. “I’m still me. I still bleed. I just have a little bit more control over it these days. I’m the god of blood. I’m made to bleed.”

[qlossytbh]

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 - 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you and conrad had established no strings attached, that is until valentines fold up and conrad suddenly seeks more out of you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 implications of sex, fwb, lots of fluff towards the end

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 3.1k by

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 back at it lol. i’m taking request!! feel free to send in any requests for any of the characters on my masterlist

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Valentines day. 

Some people are apprehensive when it comes to deciding what to spend the day doing on this particular holiday. For the lucky, it might be spending the day with their significant other or sitting around, basking in the simplicity of spending time with the person you love. For others, it was spending the day watching sappy rom-cons or moping around about the very fact of being single.

For you, Valentine's Day was the perfect excuse to show everyone how much you loved and cared for them. You were an overall extremely affectionate person, giving intricate gifts was a part of who you were. It was an extreme love language of yours— the feeling of running around, planning and buying different parts and pieces for each gift was something you found loads of fun in doing. 

For example, you had just finished baking and packing up your usual valentine themed cookie boxes to send out to all of your coworkers who worked with you at the local dog shelter. You had also sent out all of the small valentine themed envelopes to your family, who lived down the street from Susannah’s house here in Cousins, which reminded you not to forget her and Laurel's bouquets. You also put together the little treat bags with the group's favorite candy and other small things; one for Jeremiah, one for Steven, one for Belly, and one for Conrad.

It maybe was a lot, but you couldn't help yourself. You loved Valentine's Day. 

It was currently around four in the afternoon, and you were rushing around the kitchen of the Fisher household, scrolling through your tablet, checking off a few of the things you had left to do. 

Jeremiah walked into the room along with Belly, Steven, and Conrad.

"Hello Jeremiah." You looked up from your tablet and caught Jeremiah reaching for a cookie from one of the batches you were going to give out to your neighbours later on. His face twisted, laughing in embarrassment. You shook your head, looking down at the screen with a smile. 

"I left a batch of red velvet cupcakes near the fridge," Jeremiah and Stevens faces lit up. 

"You are the best person to step foot on this planet," Steven praised as they rounded the corner in attempts to get their hands on one of the cupcakes. 

"Seem's like you've been busy," Belly said, scanning the room as you set the tablet down on the counter. "I'll never get how you do it."

You shrugged, pulling your hand back and letting down the messy bun you had whipped up a few hours ago. "What can I say? Its Valentine’s Day."

"Not a valid answer, you don't see me running around gifting people random lovey shit, huh?" Conrad butted in as he leaned against the wall. You shot a glare at him.

"Well, you don't do lovey shit anyways," You teased with a smile, looking at your feet. "I dont know, I like seeing people happy, thats really all there is to it."

Belly looked at you with a smile. "That and your mind works at like, a thousand miles per hour."

It was true, you had a tendency to always need to be moving around. You barely sat still, not being able to stand the feeling of not being productive. You were always doing something, or you always had something to do. It was the main reason why you always ended burnt out. You loved doing things constantly, but it came with the heavy price of not knowing when you should stop doing things and rest. 

"People only usually do this stuff when they have boyfriends and shit like that," Belly insinuated. 

"You trying to tell us something, Y/n?" She said, gesturing towards her and Conrad. 

You cleared your throat, feeling a heat wave spread itself against your cheeks. You looked down only momentarily before shooting the pair a smile. "I do this every year Belly, if I had a special someone, you'd be able to tell."

It had been half true, given how you and Conrad weren't necessarily dating. 

It was complicated, at least if you explained it to others. You and Conrad had been best friends since you started coming to Cousins, which was since you were a baby. You loved Belly and Steven, and you loved Jeremiah, but things always felt different with Conrad. 

People had told you that Conrad was never an open book, and it surprised you at first, because he had always been more than open with you. It took very little, if not nothing, to guess with just a glance at what was going on in his head.

Many of the words that people used to describe Conrad Fisher, were the complete opposite of what you knew him to be. Conrad had a side of him that was reserved for only you, and you eventually started noticing it throughout your friendship. 

The two of you had many things that you preferred to leave unspoken. It had always worked like that with the two of you. When it came to how you felt about him, you couldn't put much into words. Words didn't do it justice most of the time.

But you and Conrad had been involved in this, thing, for about a year now. It started last summer, the two of you having one too many drinks at a party and hooking up accidentally. Or so you'd like to say it like that, because no one hooks up with their best friend drunk and says it was an accident. The two of you, not being able to communicate properly, ignored what happened that night for weeks.

But then it happened again

and again, 

and then again.

And none of the following times included alcohol. But for some reason, each time you saw each other after any sexual rendezvous, things would go completely back to normal. You guessed that was just your relationship with Conrad, it never got awkward or weird. 

You did however end up talking about it with him. 

"Can we talk?" You said, knocking on Conrad's door softly. He was lying down in his bed, book in hand. He sat up, placing it on the nightstand beside his bed. You looked at each other before he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair

"Sure," You walked in, feeling the cool air of the air conditioning hit your legs. You closed the door behind you, swallowing thickly as you could sense this conversation was going somewhere. You couldn't decipher if it was for the better or for the worse. 

You sat on the edge of his bed and looked into his eyes in silence. His gaze was just as locked on you as you were on him. That was before smiles started to grow on each of your faces before you threw your head back, laughing at the ridicule the situation presented. 

"I really don't know why we should talk about this," You said, turning to the side. 

Conrad sighed. "No, we probably should."

You looked at Conrad and focused on the blue in his eyes. "I dont regret what happened."

"Neither do I."

 "Is there a particular reason as to why it happened again after the first time?" You shifted your body and fiddled with your fingers. "And the second and third..

Conrad sighed heavily through his nose. He didn't get what was happening to him at all. He knew he cared about you; he knew he loved being near you and spending time with you. And he enjoyed what had happened between you two, 

A lot. 

But he didn't feel the need to put a title on what the two of you were. At this point, he was definitely opposed to the idea of dating, but he wasn't opposed to the idea of you. Maybe in the future? He didnt know, he was truly lost. 

And so were you. Which you hated. You couldn't stand not knowing what you wanted or what you were feeling. You needed to put titles onto everything—every feeling, every emotion, every situation—thats how your mind worked. But you knew you didn't want a relationship at this point in your life, but you loved spending time with Conrad the way you have recently.

"I don't know," He settled. "I don't see myself in a relationship, but I do love doing all the things we've been doing. 

You look at him and see a glint of something flashes through his eyes. "A lot."

You felt a rush of adrenaline pump through your veins as your cheeks went hot. You reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I do too."

"I say," He pushed his body closer to yours, his knees lightly grazing against yours. You watched his movements with a sharp intensity. "Let's just be the friends we’ve been since we could talk, and ocacionally thing."

He placed a hand on your thigh. "Things have been normal so far, would you want to keep doing things?"

You nodded and smiled as he leaned forward. You said in a whisper, "What things are we talking about specifically?"

"Should I say it?" His breath fanned over your own. He then pressed a chaste kiss onto your lips, allowing your eyes to flutter close in delight as you smiled through the kiss. "Or do you want me to show you,"

With that you pressed your lips onto his, hungry for whatever you could have of him. 

For the rest of the summer it continued. The two of your manadged to keep it a secret, not wanting any complications of anyone else trying to put a name to whatever it was the two of you had. 

You didn't even know what it was. Friends with benefits? It was more than that, given how you two cuddled occasionally, kissed occasionally, and went on occasional dates. It stressed you out more to try to figure out what it was than just enjoying it. 

Plus, you knew Conrad cared for you, and you cared for him. That was all that really mattered to you anyway. 

Even when summer ended, you two talked all the time, which was not out of the norm for the two of you. The only difference was the occasional sexting. 

Things were occasional between the two of you, if you couldn't tell by now.

Winter break in Cousin's was your favorite, and when your college gave the students a week off, you were ecstatic. Every year, you never manadged to catch the Conklin and Fisher family, given how they were always given a few weeks off in January instead of February. You grabbed your keys, packed a bag, and headed straight for Cousin's.

Things with Conrad this week had been amazing, but you could tell things were a bit more romatic. Before it was easy to difirenciate when you were only friends and when you were in need of physical touch or intimacy, but now things were all fused and mixed together. 

It didnt bother you enough to talk about it though and neither did he, so you left it at that

You put the last bits of the dishes into the dryer before brushing your hands against the fabric of your cotton shorts. Jeremiah walked into the room with his keys in his hand. "Were headed out."

You looked over at him, grabing your phone and scanning it for any new messages. "Sounds okay,"

"We'll probably be back late, you and Conrad going to be okay?" You deadpanned at the boy.

"We'll be fine," You walked over to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and leading him towards the front door, where Steven and Belly stood. "You go have fun with Steven and Belly, god knows you need to take the poor girl out."

"Thank you," Belly said, agreeing with you. "Mom said she'd be back with Susanah in a few hours." 

You nodded, feeling the breeze of the cold air hit your bare shoulders as Steven opened the front door. Steven jumped. "Oh shit! Almost forgot." 

"That monstrousity came for you today," Steven said, pointing over to your left. "It had a small card, some sappy bullshit on it." 

"For me?" You looked over to the side, letting your jaw slack slightly. Placed perfectly in the middle of the table was a huge bouquet full of red roses and white tulips, both of your favorite flowers. They were carefully wrapped in white and silver paper, adorned almost perfectly with a pink satin bow. 

You never got much on Valentine's Day; you were used to giving the presents, not receiving them. You looked at the group aprehensively once more before walking carefully over to the table. You picked up the small card, reading it carefully: 'Happy Valentines Day pretty girl'

You felt your heart thump against your chest. You let out a small chuckle as your cheeks turned red, knowing exactly who these were from. "Dumbass.."

"What was that about not having a boyfriend?" Belly butted in, causing you to snap out of your lovesick trance. You turned to the three of them, who were eyeing you as you stumbled on your words. 

"Just- uhm, some guy thats been bothering me," You nervously chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. The three of them looked at each other. 

"Conrad's gonna be pissed." Steven whispered before closing the door and heading out. You laughed to yourself and looked up the stairs, shaking your head. If only they knew. You placed the card down, looking back at the flowers once more before heading upstairs. 

You turned the corner, knocking softly on Conrad's door. With a hum on his side, you pushed the door open. He was standing near his bed with his shirt in his hand, and off of his body.

"Hey," He said, tossing the shirt into his already open closet. "I was just heading to bed." 

You smiled to yourself while crossing your arms, leaning against the door frame. "I thought you didn't do that lovey valentines day shit" 

He paused, looking at you with a perplexed look on his face. You rolled your eyes, walking into the room and closing the door behind you. Conrad eyed you carefully as you made your way to him. "Are you talking about the flowers?"

"Yes Conrad, I'm talking about the flowers," You said, placing a kiss onto his lips. He smiled into the kiss, letting his hands reach your waist, giving you the space your wrap your arms around his neck. You smiled widely into the kiss, not being able to contain your giddiness. 

Your heart was beating wrapidly in your chest, a feeling only Conrad gave you. You pushed into the kiss, deepening it as you directed his body towards his bed. The back of his knees hit the matress, forcing him to sit on the matress, which gave you the space to crawl onto his lap. 

You pulled away, looking down at the blonde boy whom you were currently straddling. "I'm guessing you liked them?”

"How'd you know roses and tulips were my favorite?" You said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as you admired the facial features you had grown to love. 

"I pay attention," He leaned forward, kissing the spot on your jaw just below your ear, causing a small giggle to erupt from your chest. 

"Thank you," You whispered, pulling away from him and looking into his eyes deeply. "You didn't have to, really."

He stared back at you, heart fluttering wildly. A feeling he was used to feeling around you, something only you brought out in him. It seemed that no matter how many girls would pop into his life or would come up to him at any frat party, you were always the first one on his mind. You were the only one on his mind.

"Of course I did," He kissed your cheek. "Its not even a quarter of what you deserve."

There it was again. He His your jaw again, trsiling soft delicate kissing up your neck. They were affectionate, none trying to iniciate something. Just soft pecks adorned with love and adoration. You let your hands enravel themselves into his hair, sighing in contentment. 

"Things have changed haven’t they?" You whispered as you pulled his body closer to yours. 

"Mhm," He agreed. You looked at the wall in front of you.

"Can we talk about it?" 

Conrad pulled away, looking at you with a look on his face. You stared back in silence. "Talk to me,"

You sighed, not really knowing what to say. Your heart fluttered at the sight of his attention, listening closely to what you had to say. 

The thing is you didnt know what to say. All you knew is that you cared about the boy in front of you a lot, and this ocassional thing has been going on for so long now. You knew you didnt want to end anything, fuck no. But you wanted more and you were scared it was a one paged thing. 

"Whyd you sent me the flowers?" You asked, paying close attention to his features. He smiled to himself, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

"Becuase," He started. "You love Valentines day, and you love recieving gifts, giving them as well, but not a lot of people know you like recieving them as well."

He continued. "You hate the color orange, you say it makes you squirmy and uncomfortable. Your favorite movies Rapunzel, great choice by the way,"

"You give so much to the people you love and I can vouch for that." He grabbed your hands, carresing them softly in his own. 

You looked at him in silence. "I don't want to do this thing occasionally anymore, I want it always.”

You and Conrad had always had a strong relationship, and its been a long time since it stopped being just platonic. You knew everything about him and so did he. Hell, it probably stopped being platonic before you even had sex with him for the first time.

Both of you could’ve saved yourselves months of time if you’d let yourself feel what you were meant to feel for each other sooner.

“So this mean what exactly? That you’re officially asking me to be your ‘girlfriend’” You asked, saying the word that felt so foreign. You knitted your eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“If that’s something you want,” He said, hope and anxiety flooding his gaze. You stared down at him, smiling softly. You leaned in.

“I’d like that.” You closed the gap between the two of you, sighing deeply into the kiss.

Something inside you felt satisfied. As if your body had been longing for a confirmation that Conrad really was just yours.

He had always been.

You pulled away, hands resting at his bare shoulders as your foreheads rested against each other.

“Can we watch Tangled now?” You asked, voice laced with excitement. He rolled his eyes, pecking your lips softly.

“Duh.”

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 4 EPISODE 03 || THE FALSE BRIDE ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

We climbed a granite ledge, thick with moss and lichen, wet with the omnipresent flow of water, then followed the path of a descending freshet, brushing aside long grass that pulled at our legs, dodging the drooping branches of mountain laurel and the thick-leaved rhododendrons. Wonders sprang up by my feet, small orchids and brilliant fungi, trembling and shiny as jellies, shimmering red and black on fallen tree trunks. Dragonflies hung over the water, jewels immobile in the air, vanishing in mist. I felt dazed with abundance, ravished by beauty. Jamie’s face bore the dream-stunned look of a man who knows himself sleeping, but does not wish to wake. Paradoxically, the better I felt, the worse I felt, too; desperately happy—and desperately afraid. This was his place, and surely he felt it as well as I. In early afternoon we stopped to rest and drink from a small spring at the edge of a natural clearing. The ground beneath the maple trees was covered with a thick carpet of dark green leaves, among which I caught a sudden telltale flash of red. “Wild strawberries!” I said with delight. The berries were dark red and tiny, about the size of my thumb joint. By the standards of modern horticulture, they would have been too tart, nearly bitter, but eaten with a meal consisting of half-cooked cold bear meat and rock-hard corn dodgers, they were delicious—fresh explosions of flavor in my mouth; pinpricks of sweetness on my tongue. I gathered handfuls in my cloak, not caring for stains—what was a little strawberry juice among the stains of pine pitch, soot, leaf smudges and simple dirt? By the time I had finished, my fingers were sticky and pungent with juice, my stomach was comfortably full, and the inside of my mouth felt as though it had been sandpapered, from the tartly acid taste of the berries. Still, I couldn’t resist reaching for just one more. Jamie leaned his back against a sycamore, eyelids half lowered against the dazzle of afternoon sun. The little clearing held light like a cup, still and limpid.

“What d’ye think of this place, Sassenach?” he asked. “I think it’s beautiful. Don’t you?”

He nodded, looking down between the trees, where a gentle slope full of wild hay and timothy fell away and rose again in a line of willows that fringed the distant river. “I am thinking,” Jamie said, a little awkwardly. “There is the spring here in the wood. That meadow below—” He waved a hand toward the scrim of alders that screened the ridge from the grassy slope. “It would do for a few beasts at first, and then the land nearer the river might be cleared and put in crops. The rise of the land here is good for drainage. And here, see …” Caught by visions, he rose to his feet, pointing. I looked carefully; to me, the place seemed little different from any of the steep wooded slopes and grassy coves through which we had wandered for the last couple of days. But to Jamie, with his farmer’s eye, houses and stock pens and fields sprang up like fairy mushrooms in the shadows of the trees. Happiness was sticking out all over him, like porcupine quills. My heart felt like lead in my chest. “You’re thinking we might settle here, then? Take the Governor’s offer?” He looked at me, stopping abruptly in his speculations. “We might,” he said. “If—” He broke off and looked sideways at me. Sun-reddened as he was, I couldn’t tell whether he was flushed with sun or shyness.

“D’ye believe in signs at all, Sassenach?”

“What sorts of signs?” I asked guardedly. In answer, he bent, plucked a sprig from the ground, and dropped it into my hand—the dark green leaves like small round Chinese fans, a pure white flower on a slender stem, and on another a half-ripe berry, its shoulders pale with shade, blushing crimson at the tip.

“This. It’s ours, d’ye see?” he said. “Ours?” “The Frasers’, I mean,” he explained. One large, blunt finger gently prodded the berry. “Strawberries ha’ always been the emblem of the clan—it’s what the name meant, to start with, when a Monsieur Fréselière came across from France wi’ King William that was—and took hold of land in the Scottish mountains for his trouble.”

King William that was. William the Conqueror, that was. Perhaps not the oldest of the Highland clans, the Frasers had still a distinguished heritage. “Warriors from the start, were you?” “And farmers, too.” The doubt in his eyes was fading into a smile. I didn’t say what I was thinking, but I knew well enough that the thought must lie in his mind as well. There was no more of clan Fraser save scattered fragments, those who had survived by flight, by stratagem or luck. The clans had been smashed at Culloden, their chieftains slaughtered in battle or murdered by law. Yet here he stood, tall and straight in his plaid, the dark steel of a Highland dirk by his side. Warrior and farmer both. And if the soil beneath his feet was not that of Scotland, it was free air that he breathed—and a mountain wind that stirred his hair, lifting copper strands to the summer sun. I smiled up at him, fighting back my growing dismay.

“Fréselière, eh? Mr. Strawberry?

He grew them, did he, or was he only fond of eating them?” “Either or both,” he said dryly, “or it was maybe only that he was redheided, aye?” I laughed, and he hunkered down beside me, unpinning his plaid.

“It’s a rare plant,” he said, touching the sprig in my open hand. “Flowers, fruit and leaves all together at the one time. The white flowers are for honor, and red fruit for courage—and the green leaves are for constancy.”

My throat felt tight as I looked at him. “They got that one right,” I said. He caught my hand in his own, squeezing my fingers around the tiny stem.

“And the fruit is the shape of a heart,” he said softly, and bent to kiss me.

The tears were near the surface; at least I had a good excuse for the one that oozed free. He dabbed it away, then stood up and pulled his belt loose, letting the plaid fall in folds around his feet. Then he stripped off shirt and breeks and smiled down at me, naked. “There’s no one here,” he said. “No one but us.” I would have said this seemed no reason, but I felt what it was he meant. We had been for days surrounded by vastness and threat, the wilderness no farther away than the pale circle of our fire. Yet here, we were alone together, part and parcel of the place, with no need in broad daylight to hold the wilderness at bay. “In the old days, men would do this, to give fertility to the fields,” he said, giving me a hand to rise. “I don’t see any fields.” And wasn’t sure whether to hope I never would. Nonetheless, I skimmed off my buckskin shirt, and pulled loose the knot of my makeshift brassiere. He eyed me with appreciation. “Well, no doubt I shall have to cut down a few trees first, but that can wait, aye?”

We made a bed of plaid and cloaks, and lay down upon it naked, skin to skin among the yellow grasses and the scent of balsam and wild strawberries. We touched each other for what might have been a very long time or no time at all, together in the garden of earthly delight. I forced away the thoughts that had plagued me up the mountain, determined only to share his joy for as long as it lasted. I grasped him tight and he breathed in deep and pressed himself hard into my hand. “And what would Eden be without a serpent?” I murmured, fingers stroking. His eyes creased into blue triangles, so close I could see the black of his pupils. “And will ye eat wi’ me, then, mo chridhe? Of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil?” I put out the tip of my tongue and drew it along his lower lip in answer. He shivered under my fingers, though the air was warm and sweet. “Je suis prest,” I said. “Monsieur Fréselière.” His head bent and his mouth fastened on my nipple, swollen as one of the tiny ripe berries. “Madame Fréselière,” he whispered back. “Je suis à votre service.” And then we shared the fruit and flowers, and the green leaves covering all.

16 THE FIRST LAW OF THERMODYNAMICS

[yuri-is-online]

TDB Episode 7 Thoughts

So this episode sort of felt like a filler chapter between "Meeting the Ghouls" and "the Laurel Crown" arcs of the story. I didn't mind since I really like Yuri and Jiro's dynamic, but the pacing of the story was very quick and not a whole lot happened, after an Episode as loaded with action as Obscuary's it can feel a bit like a let down.

Now as for specific thoughts:

I want to start by saying I appreciate how Yuri doesn't believe in the prophecy because it isn't scientific but 100% thinks he is the chosen one, the champion anyway. Yes, have that self confidence that is nothing but a paper shell built on lies to cover your insecurities king! We love a pathetic meow meow in this house!

His connection to Frostheim... I have had this crack theory in my head that he is related to Jin somehow, like maybe he's his brother or something, but I do think how he talks about Frostheim makes me think he is either a transfer to Mortranken or used to be closer to Jin than he is now. We all are pretty sold on Haku being the one who sold Jin out, but there is a chance it could have been Yuri too I suppose.

We were right! Zenji and Jiro are brothers! And we have Zenji's real name, Taro Kirisaki! He doesn't seem to hate it or anything he is just really proud of his role as a man of the quill so he uses a pen name.

Zenji really loves his brother huh. "If anything were to happen to him I might not survive it this time round" I'd be willing to bet that whatever happened to the Krisaki brothers was connected, it's just that Zenji got dumped at Darkwick General while Jiro was taken in by Yuri. Zenji's voicelines about a brother "in his rebellious phase" and his struggle to express his love for his older brother makes me think they might have been at odds before the clash... maybe Jiro hated how laid back Zenji was when he literally made a deal with a demon? Of course he did too... but maybe Zenji's was related to trying to make Jiro healthy? He seems to have some sort of auto-immune disease and while that could be a side-effect of the coma but it could also be something Jiro's always struggled with and explain why Zenji is so protective of him. I bet they were killed by the same anomaly...

Sorry I have a lot of feelings about the Kirisaki brothers... what happened to them? Why does no one care that they're dead and dying other than Yuri? I don't think Zenji cares that much that Jiro doesn't remember him so long as he's alive... but would it bother Jiro if he could remember? Does he ever find himself making tea and turn to scold someone for talking too much, he's being annoying again but there isn't anyone there and he doesn't know who he's scolding because it wasn't Yuri... does he know how to make tea because Zenji insisted on teaching him? Is Zenji the one who he would tease about being afraid of dead bodies before MC?

Right on not simp notes: we have more information about the murder, the victim was from Ultio! And the murder predated the Clash so it's pretty safe to say the inability of the school to find the murderer is probably what kicked things off.

We also have hints of a mermaid student, so be patient fish fuckers we- I mean you will be getting fed soon. This student seems to be known to Yuri and Haru, and Haru's reaction suggests he might think of him as a friend? He's not beating the Steve Irwin allegations is he, I'm surprised Ed isn't obsessed with him at this point. Then again I think Ed would resent me implying he's an animal, but we've seen the inside of his room so I rest my case.

Nicholas appears to be in hot water with the Institute, and he is not trusted by Yuri. Cornelius references something he calls "the Dionysia breakout" as being Nicholas's fault to contain... given that those students are missing and Nicholas has only recently found them... I want more information before I say anything but Yuri's explanation of how he sees anomalous anything illnesses I think it makes sense to say an anomaly outbreak occurred in the Dionysia dorm that was not contained by its ghouls, something the school blames Nicholas for.

The school knew the MC was going to turn into an anomaly and did not tell her "for her mental health." I like MC's mixed feelings on this. On the one hand I don't think she would have handled it well if we had learned it immediately. On the other, I am a firm believer that information is not something that should be gate kept, and hey. It's the MC's life she deserves to know what happened to her. I think I land on not trusting Darkwick but I do trust Yuri, I want to know why he's so determined to cure MC but I don't doubt his sincerity in the slightest. If I had to say who is most determined to see MC cured, I'd say its Yuri and Haru. And Zenji but he's out of commission at the moment. Yuri has an ego the size of his forehead, but he does seem very passionate about curing anomalous diseases and takes failures a bit more personally than he'll ever admit to. Haru is just a stand up guy who seems like he wants the best for those he loves, and he really does seem to love MC! He says he'd trust her with his life! That's my dorm captain he's literally the best <3

The tree is curious, one of the fruits looked a bit better, but then it shrunk after the announcement of the Laurel Crown and the Gala coming back... which I guess makes sense? The ghouls are fighting again, technically, and if their hate for each other is what makes the tree sick then I don't think it is going to get better. Speaking of the tree... poor MC.

Yuri's description of an anomaly that could destroy the world does match up with how Ed describes the Kyklos. Dani and I talked about this already, but that name (in addition to being super similar sounding to cyclops explaining why she has one eye) is ancient greek for cycle. It is typically used to refer to a theory about human history that depicts it as being a cycle between Dark and Golden ages, how this monster came to be is something I'd be super interested to learn about... I have some theories but they're 100% pure Colombian crack with no evidence.

That being said, Ed knows what it is but Darkwick's staff does not... Ed revealing the MC is going to turn into a monster to the whole student body makes a lot of sense for him to do actually. He sees it as him helping the MC because he wants the ghouls to compete to cure her, and knowing how he thinks of humans he probably assumed they wouldn't do so unless there was an incentive so that's why he made that the goal the dorms would have to meet to win the Laurel Crown.

Speaking of which... Sho. Shohei. Hyde has him doing a special mission, wonder what that is huh? Whatever it is, that's suspicious. That's weird. I've got both my eyes on you Mr. Playboy, Lyca wouldn't do this to me maybe he should get to keep the babygirl title.

... also I really love the "if it were not for the laws of this land I would have killed you" vibes Rui, Tohma, and Haku had during their little conversation. I was dying, "oh hiiiii Rui :D so nice to see you NOT IN THE SHADOWS STALKING ME. DID YOU KNOW HE CAN DO THAT MC? GO INTO SHADOWS AND STALK YOU? NO???" Haku just being like "teehee maybe MC and I are a thing Tohma" and Tohma leaving that on read because who cares? Not him his interests are classified but I swear its ntr- *i am shot and dragged from the premises*

[chloessapphicapothecary]

(A billion years of technical-difficulties later, I got it to post! Thank Rao. >,<)

"Comfortable":

*Inside Cat Grant's Penthouse, National City, CA.*

Kara almost didn’t realize it. Sure, it was late, she didn’t realize that Cat was even tired, let alone starting to nod off on her shoulder. She was so enthralled in the movie and trying not to pinch herself, so she woke up and was back in her apartment, without an adorably-tipsy Cat Grant leaning on her shoulder. It wasn’t until her ears pricked the faintest of snoring sounds that Kara realized Cat was zonked-out using her shoulder as an adequate impromptu pillow, as the wine caught up with her and sent her off to hopefully not too much of a hangover the next morning.

The realization, however, sat heavy in Kara's stomach. “So, I am sitting in the middle of CAT GRANT’S apartment, and she’s asleep on my shoulder…” Kara pieced-together internally, her brain running a million different directions about what she should do. “I… I think I should go.” She relented, wanting nothing more to never have to move her perfect face, that of course looked stunning even if it was starting to drool on the sleeve of Kara's blouse.

Kryptonian Soul-Mate bonds don’t mess around.

“Ok, Kara… just slowly stand up..” she muttered under her breath, as she slowly started to shift out from underneath the snoozing woman, each small jostle or creak of furniture and floorboards making Kara’s heart leap into her throat. She was a super-powered alien vigilante with more powers than she could quantify, so super-not-waking-up-cute-girls-as-you-try-to-leave is one of them, right?

Shift, reaction, shift, reaction, it was a roller-coaster of emotions as Kara slowly slid out from underneath the sleeping Cat, and laid Cat down on the couch, covering her up with the blanket that was covering Cat’s lap. Tucking the blanket over Cat’s shoulder, Kara just took a moment to gaze on the blissfully-snoozing Multimedia CEO, and the reaction was almost immediate. The ‘warm and fuzzies’ like Eliza used to call it, and Alex would make fun of her for using as a descriptor well into high school… though once Alex met Sara, she had to admit she might have been a skosh wrong.

“I… love you, Cat…” Kara almost mouthed, her uttering of words so quiet only someone with super-hearing had a shot of hearing it. “I know that sounds crazy, but some day I hope I'll get the chance to make it all make sense…” she added, resisting the urge to cup her face. Kara could wait. Kara could be patient. She could wait for an eternity for Cat. That was the easy part. The hard part is the uncertainty. This wasn’t destined in the stars like it was on Krypton, so Kara couldn’t rest on any semblance of laurels… and that terrified her.

Pulling herself away, Kara tiptoed towards the front door, but along the way saw some paper and a pen on a side-table, and she immediately changed course to scoop the items up. “Least I can do is make sure she doesn’t think I left because I was mad, right?” Kara rationalized internally, as she picked up the pen, and looked to see the paper was Monogrammed stationary. That wouldn’t help her adjusting brain, but she could handle that later.

“Hmmmmm… what to say, what to say..” Kara racked her brain, until the perfect line dropped into her brain, and it was just cheesy enough to work, or so she hoped.

“Didn’t wanna wake you from your Cat-nap. Breakfast at Noonan’s? Kara.”

Kara looked at it, and her gut instinct was to roll her eyes and maybe admit that this was ‘too cheesy’ even by her standards, but something just seemed to insist that it would be fine, so, turning back towards the couch, Kara dropped the note on the coffee table in front of where Cat snoozed away, folded in-half with Cat’s name scribbled in a quick, but flowy fashion.

Sneaking her way back to the door, Kara looked back one more time, silently sighed, then pulled herself away to quietly slippout, striding quickly to the elevators, head swimming with a lifetime's worth of memories to placate her for the uncertain future.

-Chlo. 💜☀️

[terapsina]

Shoutout to the temporary ships that were created with the intention of getting in the way of the intended ship but that I actually liked way more than the ship the writers were trying to get me to root for.

(a.k.a I kinda get a bit salty on this one)

---

1. Laurel and Tommy - Arrow

As soon as they got introduced I felt the feeling of doom. Because they were so immediately adorable and full of chemistry. I loved them from the word go even though it was so clear they were going toward a Laurel and Oliver resolution (and then to add insult to injury they changed their minds on that, but Tommy was taken from Laurel anyway).

---

2. Clara and Danny - Doctor Who

It's up for debate if Clara's relationship with the Doctor was meant to be romantic-coded or not (I personally prefer it as 'not' but they really were very fuzzy with the lines) but either way Danny was still used as the threat that might separate them. And that was really annoying for me because I liked Clara and Danny so much. And then they killed him (which is a scene that still tears my heart to pieces).

---

3. Cordy and Doyle - Angel: The Series

They were short and sweet and I enjoyed them (and though the Cordy and Angel thing wasn't really a thing at the time, there were some signs that it was on the writers' minds... and I wasn't a fan). And then they killed Doyle (...I might have to rename this post to 'killing off the love interests I actually enjoyed to give way to the ships I didn't').

---

4. Rachel and Joey - F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

This ship went past my notice when I watched the show as a kid (my entire obsession rested on Monica and Chandler) but after rewatching as an adult I actually really liked their potential. It might have come up a bit unexpectedly but there really was something quite genuine about it (and Rachel deserved so much better than Ross). I wish they hadn't ended it as such a joke.

---

5. Worf and Troi - Star Trek: The Next Generation

They were created with the sole intention of getting in the way of Troi and Riker. But I liked them better. I just found them more interesting.

---

6. Tamsin and Bo - Lost Girl

They were more fun to watch than Bo and Lauren, had better chemistry and I just enjoyed them a lot more ('and then you see you' living in my head rent free for years now). But instead they gave Tamsin the short end of the stick and used her as a stepping stone (in so many ways, genuinely, even past shipping they just never gave that Valkyrie a single break... and then killed her in the most insulting way possible, because of course they did).

---

7. Wynonna and Dolls - Wynonna Earp

Talk about chemistry. Season 1 of that show was so good and I really did fool myself into thinking this was where they were heading but no, of course not (I should have learned my lesson about Emily Andras after she killed off Hale on Lost Girl). How is an old dude with a gross mustache more interesting than a literal dragon? The answer as far as I'm concerned... they're not (now guess if they killed him off. Guess!).

---

8. Lucy and Flynn - Timeless

A tragic love story happening in the wrong order and out of time because he meets her when he needs something to hold on to and she gives him a crusade. And she meets him while he's zealously following that crusade and thinks he's just a terrorist? Dude. But no, apparently the happy ending is supposed to be the guy that wanted the cake and to eat it too (sometimes I genuinely boggle at how the writers just will not notice when they've hit gold and instead go on beating that dead horse even more to death (and yup, somehow manage to kill the gold)) .

9. Dutch and Johnny - Killjoys.

(First I have to say that I still recommend this show a 100% and this is just quibble of a shipper at heart) But how is it that when you build the whole series around the heart of this relationship, you still end up using Johnny as a brief stop point (a la basically a Married!AU) before you put Dutch back with his brother? Like, yes, they're each other's best friends and always will be but people that are in love can be each other's ride or die best friends too.

---

10. Mel and Abigael - Charmed (2018)

Alright, Mel went through the intended love interests like candy (and I liked most of them well enough) but Abby was the one that intrigued me the most, so it was a great shame that she was never properly Mel's love interest at all and more enemy/antagonist/ally/friend with mostly one-sided feelings for Mel (enemies to friends to lovers was RIGHT THERE).

[is-the-19thcentury-man-okay]

I was very pleased with my English 1820s man. I made sure he had enrichment of a scholarly nature, to balance out the Romantic tendencies they have. He took to studying classical history and language, and I confess I was proud to have such an intelligent 19th century man. More recently he took an interest in current affairs but, as he is quite young, I assumed this was a sign of maturing. Then, just like that, he ran away! I went out searching and a neighbour informed me that he'd gone to Greece to fight against the Ottomans! I was horrified and went straight there, but I found him with a pack of Greek 1820s men and he adamantly refused to come home. What should I do? I worry that he will get hurt fighting, or that his constitution will not survive rough living in the Greek mountains. But he's having such a good time. He is learning the modern iteration of Greek (such a clever man), enjoys the local cuisine, and even wants to dress like his new friends. Is he in great danger if I let him stay, and how could I take him home without breaking his heart? (I don't want to risk any of those Greek 1820s men getting angry either, if I take their lucky mascot away.) Many thanks for your advice!

Romanticism and nationalism make for a very potent combination, as you have learned by now, and for many 19th century men of a certain social class and level of education, the attraction of the Classical world adds another layer of mythical folklore; not to mention the allure of pagan ceremony and skimpy neoclassical clothes.

For 1820s-1830s men, the Byronic appeal of exotic "Eastern" nations can be irresistible, and in general you will find a lot of national myth-making and interest in folk costumes.

Lord Byron in Albanian dress, 1813. This man is not Albanian!

You also have to be aware of your 19th century man's possibly very different ideas of national and imperial boundaries. He learns the polka in Bohemia, he wants to fight the Ottomans, he wants to fight in the Miguelite war—he might support Romantic German nationalism! It's not always the national and cultural understandings of the 21st century.

Being British is also not a guarantee of sensible behaviour. You might think that your British naval officer is going to rest on his laurels after the Napoleonic Wars, and the next thing you know, he's leading a fleet in the Chilean Independence movement!

Thomas Cochrane, naval officer for hire.

19th century men are not for the faint of heart. It can be challenging to balance their Romantic desires with a sensible course of action. Since your man has already spent so much time with his new Greek friends and has embraced their lifestyle, you could suggest that it's important that he document his experiences in a travel narrative that will also champion their cause.

As much as possible, you want to convince him that he's very valuable as a writer and/or visual artist giving voice to a cause—too valuable to foolishly risk his life or ruin his health abroad.

[becauseimanicequeen]

Gustav Klimt's The Kiss in My Stand-In

I received an ask a couple of days ago about what Gustav Klimt's The Kiss painting might mean in My Stand-In (which is something I've been thinking about ever since I briefly reacted to it all those episodes ago) and decided to answer that question in a separate post. So, here I am.

I will first describe the painting (since it isn't that visible in the images I have from My Stand-In) and then dive into the stories behind the possible sources of inspiration for the painting before I get to the significance it might have to the series.

The painting depicts a man and a woman who are tightly embracing each other. The man has one hand around the back of her head while the other is on her cheek. She has one arm around his neck and the other hand resting on the one that's cradling her face. Her eyes are closed and the man is kissing her on the cheek. They're kneeling on a bed of colorful flowers (well, at least we can see that the woman is kneeling).

The man has an ivy wreath on his head while the woman has flowers in her hair and around her neck. They're both wearing yellow/gold garments. The man's garment is decorated with rectangular shapes in black, white, and silver. The woman's garment is decorated with circular floral patterns, curvy lines, and some small squares and rectangles. The patterns on the woman's garment include red, green, and blue hues. The woman also has golden ivy hanging from her ankles.

Now that I've gone through that, let's look at the possible meaning of The Kiss.

I've never heard of this before, but just like Anon wrote in the ask that made me write this post, The Kiss seems to have been connected to Orpheus and Eurydice (at least according to Wikipedia, but take that with a grain of salt because there are no official sources to support this) and showing the moment right before he loses his love.

To summarize the story of Orpheus and Eurydice: They were married, Eurydice died due to a snakebite, and Orpheus went into the underworld to get her back. Orpheus was told to not look back at Eurydice as they walked out of the underworld. He couldn't hear her footsteps behind him, looked back (either out of his own longing or thinking he'd been fooled by the gods, I've heard of both versions), and she was sent back to the underworld forever. This led Orpheus to swear off women until the end of his life (which includes a couple of different endings, one of them being that he's ripped to pieces, lol).

I don't know if art historians have actually made this connection, but (in my opinion) it could make sense. Orpheus couldn't hear Eurydice's footsteps because it was her soul/spirit that walked behind him. She wouldn't get her body back until she came out into the light. And in the painting, the woman actually looks like she's translucent (just like it says on Wikipedia). But also, the meadow she's kneeling on ends abruptly behind her feet, which could indicate a way to the underworld, and the golden ivy around her ankles might be keeping her "chained" there.

I'll get into what this might mean in My Stand-In in a moment because I have another connection to write about first. And that's the story of Apollo and Daphne, which an art historian/author argued is the case.

To summarize the story of Apollo and Daphne: Daphne was more interested in hunting and exploring forests than getting married and having kids (which her father initially wanted for her). So, when Apollo fell in love with her and started pursuing her, she fled. She eventually reached the water where her father resided and cried out to him to destroy her beauty. That's when she turned into a laurel. Even as a tree, Apollo vowed to honor her forever.

If The Kiss was inspired by this story, it would be a depiction of the moment Apollo kissed Daphne, right before she turns into a tree. However, there are no official sources to support whether this story was Klimt's inspiration or not.

But let's say that both versions are valid. How does that relate to My Stand-In?

Both myths are about transformation in some way. Orpheus and Eurydice's myth is about death and rebirth (although it doesn't get as far as an actual rebirth), while Apollo and Daphne's story is about a metamorphosis.

If we look at Orpheus and Eurydice's story in particular, the big strokes are similar to Ming and Joe's. They were in a situationship/relationship, Joe died, and Ming has been searching for Joe ever since.

If we look at Apollo and Daphne's story, certain things are similar to Joe and Ming's. First of all, there is the transformation where Daphne turns into a laurel and Joe transmigrates to another body.

Second, considering what we've seen in the trailer for the series, I'm sure Ming will chase Joe as much as he possibly can now that he's (almost) sure Joe 2.0 is "his" Joe, which feels similar to Apollo chasing after Daphne. I also feel like Joe will continue to refuse Ming for as long as he possibly can, which is similar to Daphne running from Apollo and rejecting his advancements.

With that said, including The Kiss in Joe's home decor was a great choice (besides fitting with his color scheme).

But, what might The Kiss mean going forward? Let me speculate for a moment.

Considering the myths and how Eurydice didn't come back to life while Daphne didn't change back to a human being (even if she had wanted to), I feel like that's telling of Joe's fate in My Stand-In. I don't think he will get back into his former body because there is no turning back. Just like with Eurydice and Daphne.

I would be really surprised if the series chooses to transmigrate Joe back into his own body because I don't see this story having a "fairytale" ending. That's not the vibe I'm getting. A happy ending (which is possible) is another thing entirely, btw.

Instead, I feel like we will get Ming chasing Joe (like Apollo chased Daphne), just like I mentioned above, and Ming trying to honor Joe as much as he can (like Orpheus swore off women after losing Eurydice or Apollo vowed to honor the laurel tree).

This also falls in line with the idea I've personally had about this series for a few weeks now; that one of its major themes is about second chances. Joe got a second chance at life, Ming is getting his second chance with Joe and to not fuck it up this time, Joe is getting a second chance at having a family (Joe 2.0's mom), etc.

But, I could be wrong about all my speculations. And I'm excited to find out how wrong I am, lol.

Anyway...

The Kiss is said to weave together themes of love and the cycle of life and death. That seems very fitting for the series. And, as an artist, I love that art is so prominent in (particularly) Joe's home.

[stillness-in-green]

What Helck Does Right That BNHA Is Doing Wrong

I wrote this out in a spate of frustration a while back, lost it, and then was able to recover it again, so in the interest of conservation, I figure I might as well share. It contains massive spoilers for Helck—details of its ending, its overarching plot, deep world secrets, and so on—so read at your own risk if you're one of the few people following the anime. On the other hand, very few people do seem to be watching Helck, so if you watched the first episode and then dumped it for being too goofy and comedic, this write-up will definitely give you some context for where that story goes. 

(More people should read/watch Helck.  Please read this and then go read Helck.)

(If you prefer, you can also just skim the Helck bits until you get to me complaining about BNHA’s crappy endgame.  Hit the jump, either way!)

Helck: What It Does

For my readers unfamiliar with the series (e.g. probably most of you), Helck’s elevator pitch is, “After the Hero defeats the Demon King, the demons hold a tournament to select the new Demon King.  But wait, why is there a human here?!”  It’s riffing, obviously, on the foundational JRPG story, and starts out in a high-key goofy comedy mode, which, while representative of its sense of humor, is not actually very reflective of the tonal zone it winds up occupying for most of its run.  The darkness and horror elements of the series are foreshadowed by the title character—Helck, the human who showed up to join the Demon King selection tournament—cheerily proclaiming that he hates and wants to destroy all humans.  Something is very wrong in the human lands, it seems, and the main character—Vamirio, one of the Four Heavenly Kings of the demon empire, sent to oversee the tournament—uncovering and then responding to that wrong forms the bulk of the story.

That said, it takes a good long while for Helck to reveal the true nature of its conflict.  While there are some key villainous figures that have been in play for long before that point, the ultimate truth is that the world of Helck contains a disembodied force that contacts people when they’re in their darkest, most despairing moments, providing them an “answer” for why their situations are so miserable and how to go about fixing the world that hurt them so badly, as well as power to help them do so.  The answer given by this force, called “The Will of the World,” is twisted and omnicidal, but between a degree of implied mental influence and the timing of the approach, lots of otherwise innocent, hurt people can wind up becoming the figures behind literally world-threatening dangers.

Eventually, we find out that Helck himself was approached by The Will when he was a child in a bad situation.  He wasn’t quite ready to give in yet—he had a kid brother to look out for—and so he powered past it, but it’s remained in the back of his head since that day, ever-ready to whisper its apocalyptic solutions to extreme class disparity and abuse.  This gives him a degree of empathy for the villains of the series, even as they do extremely awful stuff that he can’t otherwise forgive.

In the epilogue, a new king is crowned and we’re generally assured that things in Helck’s country are going to improve from now on.  The demons are developing magical treatment to reverse a once-thought-irreversible transformation from sentient person into mindless monster, preparing groups that will venture forth to find all the affected humans still wandering the countryside so that they can be helped.  Helck himself could easily rest on his laurels, either settling in with the human friends he had to go to extreme lengths to save or accepting his demon friends’ invitation to come live with them, the ones who fought at his side and gave him hope when he was so often on the verge of despair.

But he does neither, because he knows that The Will of the World is still out there whispering to other people in pain—it’s a force of nature that will always be out there, until someday it succeeds at finding someone it can use to overturn and restart the world.  It can never be killed, only circumvented.  However, The Will can’t act on its own, only through those that have fallen under its sway, and those people don’t start out as raving, gleefully evil maniacs! They start out as people experiencing unconscionable suffering, because people suffering to that extent are the only ones who can be convinced to believe that the answer is total annihilation.

Helck knows better than to assume that simply installing one good king in one overall-good country will be enough to save everyone in the world—or even in that one country!—from despair, and he’s intimately familiar with what that despair is like.  So, he packs up with one of his besties and they set out on a journey that will, implicitly, never really have an end.  Of course, he’ll come visit his friends and loved ones from time to time, but what he’s really dedicating himself to is finding and rescuing other people, other victims, giving them reasons to hope, reasons to believe in the world as it is now, because, as he himself experienced, that’s the only thing that can really stop someone from falling prey to The Will of the World.

Saving those victims is a practical means of preventing all the harm they would have gone on to wreak, yes, but it also means said victims don’t have to be put to the sword when they turn up at the head of an army of monsters or some shit a few decades down the line.

Helck’s answer to the problem of recurrent, inevitable suffering is thus threefold:

Improve the system at large by clearing out the corruption on top.

Dedicate active, ongoing efforts to redressing the sins of the previous system and helping its victims, even if they seem too far gone.

Proactively seek out and bring aid to problem areas before the sufferers there metastasize into world-shaking dangers.

Its characters are involved in all three of those stages—the heroic side cast does Point 1, Vamirio and her allies handle Point 2, and Helck takes up the responsibility of Point 3.  He goes out into the world to be that extra safety net when the better society he helped put in place inevitably still fails people, in places where his allies can’t reach.  To find them—the people who are in such bad situations that apocalypse looks like a reasonable solution—he’s going to have to wade, personally, into the deepest and worst mires he can find, pulling people out of that darkness one hand at a time.

As a series, then, Helck believes in systemic change while also believing that systemic change will never be sufficient on its own to prevent all suffering.  However, rather than then simply shrugging and accepting that suffering is inevitable and so the heroes will have no choice but to deal violently with the people who fell through the cracks when they inevitably return as dangerous villains, it sends its hero out to do that ground-level work of saving people.  And he himself isn’t enough either, but his actions are still meaningful, because every life he saves is both that one soul saved from darkness, and one more vector cut off that could otherwise spiral into exponential amounts of suffering and death.

BNHA: What It's Not Doing

We can see an echo of the path into darkness which turns victims into villains in BNHA, where the villains are not Born Monsters, but rather become monsters because of the circumstances of their lives.  The pain they endure, the discrimination and violence they face, leads them to their extremist reactions to try and repair—or simply destroy—a world they perceive as fundamentally hostile to them.  While there’s no overarching Will of the World manipulating them for its own ends—All For One is akin to it in how he operates, but at the end of the day, he’s still just another man, not a literal planetary anima—the end result remains the same: people forged by suffering into enemies so dangerous and resolute that they threaten the entire foundation of the world as it currently exists, as well as all those who are living in peace and happiness in the current world.

So, when faced with the prospect of enemies who are an unavoidable consequence of the endurance of the status quo (because the status quo the heroes have chosen to support is full of discrimination and repression), what exactly is BNHA proposing to do about those enemies arising in the future?  How will the heroes’ course of action regarding those enemies be different at the end of the story than it was at the beginning?  Well, so far we’ve got:

Shouji functionally telling the heteromorphs at the hospital that all they can do is endure their suffering until the people around them decide on their own to improve.

Even as she’s embraced by a Hero, Toga believing there’s no possible ending in which she can reach a world she wants to live in, and so resigning herself to finding a satisfactory death instead.

The seeming resolution of the subplot concerning the civilians lashing out at the heroes for their failure being for them to collectively agree to support heroes even more, with no explanation of what that would change for the children out of view of a hero, like Tenko was, or being victimized by a hero, like Touya.

I feel like the manga wants us to believe that the future will be better because heroes as a group, inspired by the kids of 1-A and with the corruption of the HPSC purged, are going to be more empathetic towards villains as a group going forward.  I don’t believe that, however, thanks to even the students’ (and especially Deku’s) continued willingness to completely ignore the humanity of the villains they don’t have pre-existing bonds with.  Their empathy for “their” designated villains is admirable, certainly, and a good start on the necessary change, but it’s not sufficient if it starts and ends with that highly conditional empathy.

What is going to be different on a systemic level to help people like Toga or Spinner?  What will change in society at large such that the average person on the street will become willing to help someone off-putting and potentially dangerous like Tenko or Jin?  What overhaul of professional heroism can we expect to help prevent situations like Touya’s or assuage the generational grudges behind Mr. Compress or Re-Destro?  What new oversight mechanisms will be put in place to prevent more children from being scooped up to be raised as weapons like Lady Nagant and Hawks?  What can be done to catch people like Muscular or Moonfish at a younger age and intervene before they grow up into murderers?  What better counselling programs in prison could be introduced such that someone like Ending might actually be less suicidal when their prison sentence ends than they were when it began?  What social safety nets need to be strengthened such that children like Overhaul and Geten wind up in normal, loving homes with the resources to help them sort through their issues rather than criminal organizations and cults?

After the dust settles on this endgame, what in god’s name is going to change?

Further, even if those changes are enacted, what are the main characters going to do personally for those who still slip through the cracks?  As @robotlesbianjavert wrote previously, once everything has been done as best it can for the greater good, what’s the second safety net there to catch those who can’t be saved in the greater good’s first pass?

BNHA vs. Helck's Threefold Answer

Consider again the three points Helck’s ending contained—improve the system, care for the victims that already exist, and proactively seek to prevent the creation of new victims—and contrast them to how things are going in BNHA’s end game.

1: Have the main characters improved the system?

No, not at all.  The most concrete change to the system has surely been the death of the HPSC President, but no heroes had no hand in that, much less one of the kids.  Clone Re-Destro took her out, one villain to another, so no hero had to sully their hands or risk taking on the very office that grants them their authority.  Even with her death, we have no guarantee that whoever takes her position next will be any different than she was.

All Might’s retirement shook the system, but the series is out there as I type this recanonizing All Might and his legacy as wholly beyond reproach. 

Endeavor and Hawks were exposed as, respectively, an abuser and a murderer on national TV and absolutely no official consequences befell them.

A heteromorphic mob stormed a hospital and the best a professional hero could muster was a feeble apology for not “realizing sooner,” with not a single word from anyone about being more mindful going forward.

Ujiko was removed from the web of orphanages he was maintaining, but there’s been nothing to address how he managed to get away with cultivating his “seedbeds of hatred and ferocity” right out in the open for decades, either, and so we have no real reason to believe the vulnerable children in those institutions are going to be safe from the next unscrupulous figure with ulterior motives to come along after him.

There’s been no recognition whatsoever of the role quirk counselling played in Toga’s repression, no discussion of making prisons more humane, no intention stated of making the current system even the tiniest bit less regressive via actual changes to the law and government-funded social safety nets.  The system shows no signs whatsoever of improving, least of all due to any actions on the part of the main characters.

Neither Deku nor any other student has shown the faintest inclination to push back against the reactionary violence demanded of them by the system they intend to join.  While they may act mercifully on their own time, they are wholly unwilling to actually protest against the authority that gives them their orders.

2: Are the main characters making efforts to care for the victims that already exist?

Yes and no.  This is about the only one I can give them even partial credit for, but partial credit they do still get. 

Ochaco made a world-shaking offer for Toga, one that melted away Toga’s aggression and brought her violence to a dead stop.  That’s amazing!  Shouto has managed to stop Dabi from killing himself and everyone around him against all odds, and we have every indication that he’ll keep dedicating himself to that for as long as it takes.  Deku has concretely changed the paths of Gentle Criminal, La Brava and Lady Nagant,[*] and I have little reason to believe he’ll do any less for Shigaraki, however that turns out to look.  Attempts are even being made to help the Noumu, following the reveal of Shirakumo’s lingering presence in Kurogiri.

…But that’s about where it stops.

[*] I hate absolutely everything about the way Lady N reacted to him, mind you, but what’s on the page is on the page.

Shouji never bothered to actually ask Spinner or Scarecrow what drove them to villainy, nor do we have any indication that he’s going to follow up with them now that the riot they were leading has been quelled.

Deku’s compassion begins and ends with people whose motivations he can understand; he has none to spare on those whose desires and goals are alien to him, or he attaches that compassion to stone-hearted ultimatums he has no authority to make.

Tsuyu’s got Ochaco’s back, and Iida has a line that you could interpret as being charitably disposed towards Dabi, but no one else in the class seems to be making any efforts to reach out to villains.  Shinsou might have brought Gigantomachia to a place where he could confront AFO, but he damn sure didn’t give him a choice in the matter.

Things are even worse on the professional level.  Between the flying coffin and the mass arrests, we’ve had no indication that the Pros are doing or are interested in doing the first damn thing to try and help the victims of their flawed status quo.

The first thing Hawks does when confronted with a risen Twice is scream to kill him again, for god’s sake.  That’s as clear an indication as I could possibly ask for that nothing he’s experienced has altered Hawks’s methods or his willingness to use them.

As I said above, the empathy a tiny handful of students have for their villain foils is commendable, but insufficient to serve as tidemarks indicating an improved status quo.

3: Is there any indication that the main characters will proactively seek to prevent the pain that leads to the birth of villains? 

No.  In fact, under the current system, that isn’t even possible for them.  That is simply not what professional heroism is or does.  Under the current system, heroes are definitionally reactive; they’re not there as a preventative against suffering so much as they’re a topical ointment for it once it’s already arisen.  Because the role of heroes seems on track to remain the same as it ever was, heroes can’t go into the dark places because that’s simply not their job.

Addressing bigotry and discrimination is not a hero’s job unless someone perpetuating it is using their quirk to do so.

Preventing domestic abuse is not a hero’s job even if a quirk is in use because quirk use is legal inside the home; abuse is thus a problem for police and social workers to handle, not heroes.

Dealing with corrupt systems and repressive laws is not a hero’s job because they’re enforcers for systems and laws; they can try to change them through the legal pathways available to all citizens, but they can’t bring their powers to bear without becoming villains themselves.

Heroes cannot walk into the heart of darkness of Hero Society because their job is to exist outside, in the open, in the light.  Their only function is to stop villains—people using their quirks illegally—and to help out in disaster situations.  That’s it.  That’s all they’re there to do.  And if the parameters of their jobs don’t change, that’s all they’re ever going to be able to do: try to talk a victim who’s already gone sour out of getting worse.

As it stands, if the 1-A kids are still just running around being Cool Heroes Punching Out Villains in the epilogue, they are failing to act as the second layer of aid Helck represents, but rather still only acting as their society’s last defense against those who have become twisted by pain and unaddressed need.  In effect, they will continue to be the sword that puts down a monster rather than the hand that reaches out to a victim before the monster can be born.

Right now, I have seen precious little to convince me that, ten years down the line, they’re going to be anything more than fractionally better heroes than their predecessors were—punching first, asking questions virtually never, standing around in the aftermath congratulating themselves for their victories, posing for cameras as the people they just unthinkingly pummeled get packed into police cars to be dumped into a perfunctory legal system followed by a monstrously inhuman carceral complex. 

The Impact of Timing

Is anyone thinking that it's not fair of me to compare stuff in BNHA's endgame to stuff in Helck's epilogue? Couldn't most of my complaints be handwaved in BNHA's epilogue?  I mean, I guess, yeah, but with the small problem that such a resolution would be incredibly unsatisfying.

The thing with Helck is, that series doesn’t leave those three points for the epilogue; rather, its epilogue is a natural extension of the choices its characters have been making all along.

Helck leaves his chain of command, his kingdom, even his own species, when he realizes how deep their corruption runs.  Helck’s struggle to overcome corrupt authority is the foundation the entire series rests on, from its beginning hook of, “Human hero tries to become the new Demon Lord,” to its climax of fighting against The Will of the World itself.  (Point 1: Improve the system.)

Vamirio decides upon getting to know Helck that humans, her enemies, are ultimately victims of the corrupt power manipulating them.  She shouts out loud her intention to save them, exulting in the sense of relief it gives her to clear away her uncertainty and come to that decision.  Later, she passionately declares that she will disobey orders from her Emperor himself, if those orders are to fight humans with the intent of killing them.  She’s a figure of authority amidst her own kind, but she is more than willing to go against that authority—and vocally so—if her morals tell her she must.  (Point 2: Dedicate active efforts to helping the victims of the corrupt system, even if they already seem too far gone.)

I’ve already talked about Helck’s decision to wander the earth in the series’s epilogue, and this of all points would seem most likely to be relegated to the aftermath, but no, dedication to preventing future tragedies can be found in the body of the series itself as well.  Vamirio’s peer Azudora has history with both humans and the transformations wrought by The Will of the World, and he’s been working on a cure since before the series even began.  His efforts bring hope to the series at a critical point and provide a model for Helck’s decision at the series’s end, as both men make the same choice: to devote their lives to the hope of doing something that will better the future, even if it doesn’t change things for those who have already been lost.  (Point 3: Proactively work to save today’s victims so that they don’t become tomorrow’s monsters.)

In essence, the entire run of Helck is dedicated to presenting the problem Vamirio and Helck are facing, exploring how and why they come to the decisions they do about how to solve that problem, and then forcing them, over and over, to face down their own doubt and fear, their allies’ hesitancy, and their opponents’ highly dedicated efforts to break them down and defeat them, be it through force of arms or despair.  The heroes get the ending they do because they decide on the ending they want and then they spend the rest of the series damn well fighting for it.

BNHA’s epilogue handing the kids the passel of resolutions and changes they so desperately need for their bright futures to be remotely convincing—offscreened, timeskipped victories to battles they haven’t even yet realized the need to fight!—will just cement this rant’s contention that the series and its heroes don’t have half of the clarity of purpose and intellectual integrity of Helck and its lead duo of shounen manga Determinators.

In summary, please read Helck.

Disclaimer at the bottom: I don’t want to utterly oversell Helck here.  The way it handles its classism angle is simplistic, even reductive, a bog-standard portrayal of, “All nobles are cartoonishly evil save the one (1) pure-hearted exception who just isn’t for some reason.”  Its big change to its corrupt system at the end is simply to replace a “bad king” with a “good king,” which is self-evidently not a change that’s guaranteed-effective beyond the good king’s lifespan.  Further, there’s obviously going to be a difference in realism between a story set in a medieval fantasy JRPG world and one set in a modified version of real-life, present-day Japan—BNHA does portray a much more complex, well-articulated society.

Still, even acknowledging that comparing the two series is kind of comparing apples and mandrakes, it’s striking to me how similar the themes are when you strip out the language of their respective genre idioms.  Both are interrogating notions of traditional heroism and villainy, examining what drives villains, pushing to recognize the humanity in the traditionally monstrous. In that sense, Helck is just across-the-board better, more honest, and more passionate at portraying those themes, while BNHA consistently gestures at them only to bafflingly write them off again the moment they get a little too challenging to deal with.