#olds) that they can estimate when to go themselves sorry for trying to make my job (which shouldnt be so much) a little bit

[sweetsweetloverlover]

fuck my entire baka worklife

[txttletale]

Saw a tweet that said something around:

"cannot emphasize enough how horrid chatgpt is, y'all. it's depleting our global power & water supply, stopping us from thinking or writing critically, plagiarizing human artists. today's students are worried they won't have jobs because of AI tools. this isn't a world we deserve"

I've seen some of your AI posts and they seem nuanced, but how would you respond do this? Cause it seems fairly-on point and like the crux of most worries. Sorry if this is a troublesome ask, just trying to learn so any input would be appreciated.

i would simply respond that almost none of that is true.

'depleting the global power and water supply'

something i've seen making the roudns on tumblr is that chatgpt queries use 3 watt-hours per query. wow, that sounds like a lot, especially with all the articles emphasizing that this is ten times as much as google search. let's check some other very common power uses:

running a microwave for ten minutes is 133 watt-hours

gaming on your ps5 for an hour is 200 watt-hours

watching an hour of netflix is 800 watt-hours

and those are just domestic consumer electricty uses!

a single streetlight's typical operation 1.2 kilowatt-hours a day (or 1200 watt-hours)

a digital billboard being on for an hour is 4.7 kilowatt-hours (or 4700 watt-hours)

i think i've proved my point, so let's move on to the bigger picture: there are estimates that AI is going to cause datacenters to double or even triple in power consumption in the next year or two! damn that sounds scary. hey, how significant as a percentage of global power consumption are datecenters?

1-1.5%.

ah. well. nevertheless!

what about that water? yeah, datacenters use a lot of water for cooling. 1.7 billion gallons (microsoft's usage figure for 2021) is a lot of water! of course, when you look at those huge and scary numbers, there's some important context missing. it's not like that water is shipped to venus: some of it is evaporated and the rest is generally recycled in cooling towers. also, not all of the water used is potable--some datacenters cool themselves with filtered wastewater.

most importantly, this number is for all data centers. there's no good way to separate the 'AI' out for that, except to make educated guesses based on power consumption and percentage changes. that water figure isn't all attributable to AI, plenty of it is necessary to simply run regular web servers.

but sure, just taking that number in isolation, i think we can all broadly agree that it's bad that, for example, people are being asked to reduce their household water usage while google waltzes in and takes billions of gallons from those same public reservoirs.

but again, let's put this in perspective: in 2017, coca cola used 289 billion liters of water--that's 7 billion gallons! bayer (formerly monsanto) in 2018 used 124 million cubic meters--that's 32 billion gallons!

so, like. yeah, AI uses electricity, and water, to do a bunch of stuff that is basically silly and frivolous, and that is broadly speaking, as someone who likes living on a planet that is less than 30% on fire, bad. but if you look at the overall numbers involved it is a miniscule drop in the ocean! it is a functional irrelevance! it is not in any way 'depleting' anything!

'stopping us from thinking or writing critically'

this is the same old reactionary canard we hear over and over again in different forms. when was this mythic golden age when everyone was thinking and writing critically? surely we have all heard these same complaints about tiktok, about phones, about the internet itself? if we had been around a few hundred years earlier, we could have heard that "The free access which many young people have to romances, novels, and plays has poisoned the mind and corrupted the morals of many a promising youth."

it is a reactionary narrative of societal degeneration with no basis in anything. yes, it is very funny that laywers have lost the bar for trusting chatgpt to cite cases for them. but if you think that chatgpt somehow prevented them from thinking critically about its output, you're accusing the tail of wagging the dog.

nobody who says shit like "oh wow chatgpt can write every novel and movie now. yiou can just ask chatgpt to give you opinions and ideas and then use them its so great" was, like, sitting in the symposium debating the nature of the sublime before chatgpt released. there is no 'decay', there is no 'decline'. you should be suspicious of those narratives wherever you see them, especially if you are inclined to agree!

plagiarizing human artists

nah. i've been over this ad infinitum--nothing 'AI art' does could be considered plagiarism without a definition so preposterously expansive that it would curtail huge swathes of human creative expression.

AI art models do not contain or reproduce any images. the result of them being trained on images is a very very complex statistical model that contains a lot of large-scale statistical data about all those images put together (and no data about any of those individual images).

to draw a very tortured comparison, imagine you had a great idea for how to make the next Great American Painting. you loaded up a big file of every norman rockwell painting, and you made a gigantic excel spreadsheet. in this spreadsheet you noticed how regularly elements recurred: in each cell you would have something like "naturalistic lighting" or "sexually unawakened farmers" and the % of times it appears in his paintings. from this, you then drew links between these cells--what % of paintings containing sexually unawakened farmers also contained naturalistic lighting? what % also contained a white guy?

then, if you told someone else with moderately competent skill at painting to use your excel spreadsheet to generate a Great American Painting, you would likely end up with something that is recognizably similar to a Norman Rockwell painting: but any charge of 'plagiarism' would be absolutely fucking absurd!

this is a gross oversimplification, of course, but it is much closer to how AI art works than the 'collage machine' description most people who are all het up about plagiarism talk about--and if it were a collage machine, it would still not be plagiarising because collages aren't plagiarism.

(for a better and smarter explanation of the process from soneone who actually understands it check out this great twitter thread by @reachartwork)

today's students are worried they won't have jobs because of AI tools

i mean, this is true! AI tools are definitely going to destroy livelihoods. they will increase productivty for skilled writers and artists who learn to use them, which will immiserate those jobs--they will outright replace a lot of artists and writers for whom quality is not actually important to the work they do (this has already essentially happened to the SEO slop website industry and is in the process of happening to stock images).

jobs in, for example, product support are being cut for chatgpt. and that sucks for everyone involved. but this isn't some unique evil of chatgpt or machine learning, this is just the effect that technological innovation has on industries under capitalism!

there are plenty of innovations that wiped out other job sectors overnight. the camera was disastrous for portrait artists. the spinning jenny was famously disastrous for the hand-textile workers from which the luddites drew their ranks. retail work was hit hard by self-checkout machines. this is the shape of every single innovation that can increase productivity, as marx explains in wage labour and capital:

“The greater division of labour enables one labourer to accomplish the work of five, 10, or 20 labourers; it therefore increases competition among the labourers fivefold, tenfold, or twentyfold. The labourers compete not only by selling themselves one cheaper than the other, but also by one doing the work of five, 10, or 20; and they are forced to compete in this manner by the division of labour, which is introduced and steadily improved by capital. Furthermore, to the same degree in which the division of labour increases, is the labour simplified. The special skill of the labourer becomes worthless. He becomes transformed into a simple monotonous force of production, with neither physical nor mental elasticity. His work becomes accessible to all; therefore competitors press upon him from all sides. Moreover, it must be remembered that the more simple, the more easily learned the work is, so much the less is its cost to production, the expense of its acquisition, and so much the lower must the wages sink – for, like the price of any other commodity, they are determined by the cost of production. Therefore, in the same manner in which labour becomes more unsatisfactory, more repulsive, do competition increase and wages decrease”

this is the process by which every technological advancement is used to increase the domination of the owning class over the working class. not due to some inherent flaw or malice of the technology itself, but due to the material realtions of production.

so again the overarching point is that none of this is uniquely symptomatic of AI art or whatever ever most recent technological innovation. it is symptomatic of capitalism. we remember the luddites primarily for failing and not accomplishing anything of meaning.

if you think it's bad that this new technology is being used with no consideration for the planet, for social good, for the flourishing of human beings, then i agree with you! but then your problem shouldn't be with the technology--it should be with the economic system under which its use is controlled and dictated by the bourgeoisie.

[snailofkale]

so its occurred to me that kirby hcs i talk about with my buddies so often that they don’t even need to be restated anymore and we’ve kind of just accepted as fact are, in fact, entirely noncanon and could do with specifying! specifically those surrounding Kirby, Meta, DMK, Galacta, and Morpho.

also this post is gonna be really bad and confusing im so sorries

THESE ARE JUST MY HEADCANONS!!

They’re being stated as though factual because it would be annoying to specify every time!

so, to start, they’re all the same species. i’m pretty sure this is a fairly common hc? specifically, kirby is a preadolescent child and doesn’t have wings YET, whereas the others are adults who didn’t have wings as children. normally i call this species “kirby” and its members “kirbies” but i’m gonna call them

orb knights

in this post for the sake of clarity.

orb knights live for many thousands of years. kirby is only a few hundred years old (~200) prince fluff is older (idk how much i haven’t thought about him that much), Meta (and DMK) are several thousand (i don’t really have a solid estimate for them, not over 15k) (honestly i hesitate over 10k), galacta is a few tens of thousands (i generally put him at 50k?) and morpho is at least a few hundred thousand. the time at which morpho was a child is so ancient that the only way to know about in detail it is to be that ancient

orb knights tend to get darker with age but this isn’t a universal rule. also, the actual hue of their bodies doesn’t typically change much.

the age of an orb knight (physically and mentally) doesn’t translate properly into human terms. meta knight is old but not elderly, if that makes sense. galacta on account of being sealed has partially forgotten that time passes at all so he has in a way transcended describable age. morpho has as well for reasons i’ll get to. kirby is not a baby. he’s more like ~10. the younger an orb knight the easier it is for me to describe their age, personally.

orb knights have a sort of built in awareness of their culture and traditions despite possibly never meeting another member of their species. its sort of like the world’s worst hivemind meets instinct, or maybe like vaguely remembering something you read 6 years ago and trying it out and it working. the most notable and visible aspect is the masks, which orb knights usually make not long after they grow wings, many describing a comforting sense of having someone telling them that’s what they’re supposed to do.

orb knights (and indeed, many species in the kirby universe) have anatomy only possible with magic. they have no brains, no bones, no proper digestive system, and no circulatory system. they’re basically just a thick somewhat squishy membrane with eyes enclosing a mouth that leads nowhere, keeping themselves held up and locomoting with sheer force of will.

the texture of their skin is extremely variable, going from totally rubbery (i imagine galacta knight is on this end) to, rarely, downright fluffy (none of our known orb knights are fluffy, prince fluff doesn’t count because he’s made of yarn.) (if he wasn’t made of yarn he would probably be fluffy though). i’d imagine kirby has a very soft peach fuzz feel, morpho is more like velvet, and meta is probably somewhere in the middle of those two.

orb knights don’t die from age. they sort of fade out of existence very slowly. morpho knight is effectively dead. morpho knight is also the grim reaper, but more importantly he’s dead. most orb knights do not become the grim reaper upon dying

when an orb knight is dying this way, they lose all their power. the only way to gain this power back is by fusing with an entity of roughly equal power to their former self. this fusion is temporary and will break down in a relatively short amount of time, leaving both participants mostly unharmed.

orb knights can also be scarred, injured, and killed (skipping the “ghost” phase morpho’s in). all of these are exceptionally difficult to accomplish. when kirby falls in battle, he isn’t dead, he’s exhausted. DMK’s mask scar indicates an actual scar.

alright thats all i have rn sorry for how long ghis post is

[lightparty-fullparty]

BACK ON THE WIKI AGAIN because where else am I supposed to be when trying to write a fic - this time on Yotsuyu’s page because I wanted to try and work out like, her personal event timeline.

So her age on the wiki is 32, I am assuming this means she is 32 by the time you are going through Stormblood, and so she was 7 when Doma was conquered by Garlemald. Since it’s been 25 years since then by the time the Scions get around to visiting.

Now I don’t think it’s mention at all when her parents died, or how. Just that they did, and she had to go and live with her shitty Aunt and Uncle and Cousin. Given that Yostuyu doesn’t seem to have memeories of her parents - I am using the fact that during the Tsukiyomi trial, Gosetsu is the only person who appears during the memory sequence that is a positive memory for her, so assumedly that means Yotsuyu doesn’t remember her original parents. Otherwise they would have a larger impact on her (imo at least) - So this would make me think they died when she was very young, and Yotsuyu has basically been living with her Aunt since she can remember.

Now, my next question is how old is she supposed to be in Echo vision you get during the lead up to Doma Castle, the one from the Garlean Soilder with young Yostuyu in it. She can’t still be 7, because it’s implied that Garlemald has a very establish position as the new rulers of Doma at this point. A census has been taken recording the members of every family in Doma, as a point is made that Yotsuyu wasn’t included on the original records by her Aunt (on purpose).

I don’t know about you but I doubt even Garlemald would have been able to organise that and establish themselves so quickly. So I reckon it’s another several years down the line.

Asahi is 27 according to the wiki - so following similar thoughts he would have been 25 when Doma fell and he is DEFINETLY not 2 years old in that flashback. Since he’s beeing approached about going to Garlemald and recieveing an imperial education, I’m going to estimate he’s possibly 8-10 years old, making Yostuyu 13-15. I’m leaning towards the lower end of that scale given that Edda is supposed to be 16 and using an adult Hyur model, so 15 doesn’t seem quite right given Yostuyu is using the child model.

Given as well that she says Asahi was the one to suggest marrying her off to a rich nobelman, it would have had to have been done before he left for Garlemald. So given that lowball estimate for her age, she was 13 when it happened. (6 years after Doma fell - and well before the Rebellion so it was still ‘ruled’ by Lord Kaien.)

Again there’s no mention of hold long she was in her shitty marriage before her husband died, but I’ll wager several years and assume she was maybe 16/17 when it happened. At which point she was sold off again to the brothels.

The rest is documented decently enough by the game that I don’t feel a great need to decipher the mystery of it all. But for my purposes the TLDR is;

Yostuyu’s parents died when she was very young. Young enough for her to have zero memories of them. Good or Bad.

She lived with her Aunt and saw Doma fall at age 7. At age 13/14 she was sold off to Sashihai (the shitty nobel).

At age 16/17 Sashihai died and Yostuyu was sold again to the brothels. where she worked her way into a position of influence and was approached by Garlemald to become an imperial spy.

And I still don’t understand why the wiki says her eyes are yellow when to me they’re pretty clearly a pale blue-grey?

This just does not read as yellow to me I’m sorry. Flashback is also super blue to me idk what to tell you here.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Hi Astra!

The writing about Protective Pirate crew was amazing! It made my day better and I got so much serotonin from it really-

And since as I saw, your requests open - Can you maybe make something with same Y/n from that writing but with Strawhats? I just love them so much and even better after I readed one fic with Y/n being insecure about themselves and wanted to leave Strawhats but they didn't let her-

I hope you doing okay and remember take care of yourself! Stay hydrated as well!

Warnings: none

Word Count: 760

Hey, I’m glad you liked my protective pirate crew. It was nice to write for people who just accept the reader as they are. There’s not enough of that in our world. I’m still going to make the character fairly young since the original request was for a young reader, so aside from Chopper, they’re kind of the ‘baby’ of the group (Chopper will always be baby, even if he’s older than the reader). Also, sorry this took so long, I kept trying to write it before going "nope, hate that."

Looking up at the shopkeeper, you tried not to whimper. It was supposed to be a simple task to restock the ship. Go in, tell them what you needed, pay, and get back to the ship. But of course, this shopkeeper, despite being a relatively frail looking old man, had to be a jerk. You knew you’d counted the money out correctly, you knew this for a fact, hell, Nami had counted out an estimated amount beforehand and that woman was so tight about money that not only was she rarely that far off, but there’s no possible way you could have ‘miscounted’. Still, face-to-face with the shopkeeper, you couldn’t bring yourself to argue that you had paid him enough, you’d barely been able to tell him what you needed and pay for it. A loud bang made you flinch, simultaneously drawing the shopkeeper’s attention away from you.

“Y/n! There you are! Nami said you were late so we should check on you.” Luffy’s upbeat voice called, his large smile greeting you when you looked over. Flanking him on either side were Zoro and Sanji who simply glared at the shopkeeper as you rushed over to the men.

“Mind telling us what’s going on here?” Zoro growled as Sanji pushed you behind him.

“That little wretch didn’t pay me the correct amount! She still owes me money!” the man shouted, pointing at you as you hid further behind Sanji. Tugging at the blond’s jacket, you looked up at him helplessly.

“He’s lying. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell him he’s wrong. I’m sorry.” you whimpered, burying your head into his dark clothes. You felt a weight press down on your head followed by an arm wrapping around you, starting to lead you away. Looking up, you noticed the brim of a familiar straw hat obscuring your view, a familiar soft hand on your shoulder as Robin led you away, giving you one of her usual, soft, comforting smiles. 

“Don’t worry, Y/n. You did great.” Chopper’s cheery voice said from beside you, his small hoof taking your hand as he gave you a smile. Despite the puffball looking younger than you at times, he was always looking out for you just as much as the others, cheering you on when he wasn’t outright protecting you. 

Watching Nami go on a rant about the shopkeeper as soon as you’d finished telling her made you giggle, the young woman practically breathing fire and storming off herself to confront the shopkeeper as you sat under one of the trees. The soothing song that Brook often played to help you calm down after a confrontation quickly had you drifting off in Robin’s arms, the young woman still comforting you, protecting you even though the ‘danger’ had long since passed. They’d protect you, not just from other pirates or marines, not just from the dangers of the sea or the monsters that lurked beneath the waves. They’d protect you from those who sought to bother you, those who sought to change you, and those who sought to frighten you. Because just like they were perfect the way they were, you were perfect the way you were, shyness and all. Walking back aboard the ship laughing, the three powerhouses of the Strawhat crew smiled over at you, supplies still loaded up on their shoulders.

“Is she alright? Not too upset I hope?” Sanji asked, kneeling down next to you as you slept.

“She’s fine. I think he was just a little too confrontational for her.” Robin said with a smile, comforting hand placed on your back as you snuggled your head further into her chest. Luffy gave a small laugh, gently taking his hat back and placing it back on his head. As happy as he was that it brought you comfort, you were asleep and he felt a little naked without it. 

“Then we’ll just go with her next time! We can protect her better that way. Besides, if we send her with Zoro then he won’t get lost and she’ll have someone to look out for her.” Luffy said, his usual sunny smile on his face.

“Like you’re any better. You get lost just as easily.” Zoro snapped, giving the rubber boy a look, one that softened as he turned his eyes back to you, “I suppose I can look out for her, though. Not like I do much else when we’re in town.” Zoro said, smirking. You were the young, shy crewmember, one that they’d protect, even if it was just from other people.

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

Heyyy! Can I request a funny interaction between the van Zieks brothers (pre-Professor) set at a ball/party? Maybe Barok gets into shenanigans

Thank you very much for your request! This is going to be a little tricky – not only is this my very first request, but it also taps into headcanon for a younger Barok and for Klint. This may not turn out perfectly, but I appreciate the challenge, and I hope it's good enough to be enjoyable at least. I have never stopped to consider the way young Barok would have acted before, which is a shame since I think he's so cute.

Fandom: Ace Attorney (TGAA2) Characters: Klint van Zieks, Barok van Zieks Content warning: Alcohol consumption

It is a great honour to be invited to a celebration of the high aristocracy – one of such high status that even I, a Director of Prosecutions... cannot claim the certainty of whom invited us, or what it is we are celebrating. Crass as it sounds, it is common enough occurence that I have long put an end to my needless attempts to learn more about the hosts. It was a quite boring activity, not unlike the parties themselves... It must be said, however, that on this occasion I could not bear to decline the invitation, when for the first time, it presented the name of Barok, my enthusiastic younger brother.

The young man is trying his best to hide the fact that he spent almost the entire day preparing. "- Klint... It's but a trifle, but I do hope I look presentable. - But of course. You have nothing to worry about. - Oh, I wasn't worried. I just thought appropriate to make sure." Right, I'm sure. Oft under dressed, Barok spent a lot of the day choosing a proper coat, to land on a surprisingly humble wisteria-coloured cloak with golden trimming – its main colour not too dissimilar to that of his hair. Truth be told, regardless how much effort he puts into dressing himself, the man will stand out for his scruffy appearance. Although I appointed him to our family's estimed coiffeur, he inevitably winds up with asymmetrical strands of hair curtaining his forehead... now what could inspire such an odd choice? That I have wondered often, but cannot spend any more time pondering at the moment, for a diversity of guests are greeting us. Oh, what a pleasure to see you, Sir, uhm... Ah, Stronghart, my apologies. Of course, I remember the hearty conversation we've had. Oh, and Herr Sholmes, what brings you... Sorry? By the time I run into, and begin a passionating conversation with my dear mentor, I'm embarrassed to admit I've forgotten all about my little brother.

"- Oh, Klint... Here you are." Recognising Barok's voice, my face becomes flushed. I truly, completely neglected to look after him. Just a minute after my mentor left my side to greet some old friends of his, the endearing ruffian grabs my arm, a glass chalice half-full of wine in his other hand. "- Ah, Barok... I've been wondering what you were up to. - Oh, not much." His ungraceful chuckle trails for a little too long. My eyes narrow of their own. "- Have you introduced yourself to other guests? - No, no, I'm too... shy, really." Really, now? "- Then... - I've been... admiring the architecture of the place, and giving a listen to some passionate folks' tirades. I've been enjoying some of this wine, t– - I could tell. Barok, I'd appreciate if you could pace yourself before you embarrass us... - Oh please, don't worry." I'm worried that his drink is going down quite quick. If I am to trust his wording, it wouldn't be his first serving either. Perhaps I should make a better effort to ensure he doesn't wander off again. "- But truly," he continues, "the place is quite nice, though the unending din is unpleasant. I've been paying attention to folks who spoke loudly, with passion for what they were saying – I think they noticed, and appreciated it. - Why didn't you identify yourself to them? - Please... on my own, I have no claim to fame. But I'll make sure to remember who they were, for whenever it is appropriate." All I'm hearing is – I will have much work to do in explaining who is that eccentric I brought in my company this evening. Though I can only blame myself...

"- One claimed to be a famous scientist. He... Ah, I will have to tell Albert about this. - Albert? Now who would that be? - Uhm."

After looking nervously away from my direction, he finishes his glass of wine, before carrying on:

"- I meant... Mr. Harebrayne, as you know him. - Oh." A fellow student of London University, if I recall. An improper-looking friend of Barok's, to whom I've been introduced. "- I didn't know you were quite so close. - We... maintain a good friendship." Well, Mr. Harebrayne matters very little. I'm reassured to see that his chalice did indeed have a bottom. His speech changes cadence every other word, which is unsurprising; he is not an experienced drinker. "- Anyhow... Before I... lost sight of you... I saw you talk to many different people. None of which I was acquainted with. - ...Perhaps it's time we change that, my dear brother." Indeed, as he talked, I noticed two good colleagues of mine walking in our direction. "- Lord van Zieks! Would you do us the pleasure of introducing us? You look to be accompanied by your young brother you told us so much about. - Barok, would you?" This is a risk, of course. Young Barok lacks in confidence, and any introduction of his will be drawn out and exaggerated... ... ... "- ...Of course, Mister, my brother and I would be happy to taste more wine."

Such are the words that come out of my mouth when a polite servant walks up to us, flaunting a good bottle... Barok is having a good conversation; evidently, loosening up does no harm to the man.

[inglourious-imagines]

Piece Of Cake (Fred Weasley)

Summary: Fred claims that asking a girl out to the Yulle ball is a piece of cake. Harry and Ron dare him to prove it.

Prompts: fluff list: 2 - "I don't care, just hold me." & angst list: "Try to see things in my point of view." & miscellaneous list: 4 - "My mum thinks I'm dating you." (changed a bit)

Warning: angst at the beginning, some swear words, fluff at the end

Author's Note: This is for @lunalovecroft 's 1K writing challenge! Probably it was meant to be the other way around, but that idea suddenly strucked me and I decided to give it a go. Happy reading ♡

HP Taglist: @alienoresimagines @95swifi

.

.

.

"You have a place in my heart no one else ever could have." - F.S. Fitzgerald

All the Yulle Ball decoration were making Y/N beyond sick, every ribbon reminding her that she still did not have a date to accompany her throughout the approaching evening. Molly Weasley was so kind to send her as a gift the most beautiful dress Y/N had ever seen in her life and now she was genuinely thinking about not going to the ball at all. 

When she threw herself at the bench in the Great Hall right next to her best friend Hermione who was sitting way too far from Ron, Harry and the twins were seated. Y/N knew about the brightest witch's secret crush on the young Weasley that was slowly but surely growing into something more than just a simple crush. She'd even swear that Ron felt exactly the same about Hermione but she had to promise not to get involved or play a cupid. 

"He didn't ask, did he." Y/N dared to speak up first, glancing from Hermione's sad expression on her face to absolutely oblivious Ronald just a few metres away from them who seemed to be stuffing as much food as possible into his mouth as fast as he could. 

Y/N's eyes wandered from one Weasley to another, much taller one, who's smile was so contagious that she found herself grinning like an idiot for no particular reason.

"What do you think, Y/N." Hermione sighed bringing her back from her daydreaming, "guess he's not the only one who didn't ask, right?" 

Y/N looked at her friend again, simply nodded as she wasn't able to react in any other way. As much as she tried not to, she felt a bit disappointed when the only person she wanted to go to the Yulle ball with, hasn't asked her.

"They've been bickering for the past 15 minutes whether asking a girl out is easy or not." Hermione stated, clearly upset with the whole situation.

"Are you serious, 'Mione? What are their points of view?" 

"Well, Harry and Ron are obviously struggling to even compliment a girl in the right way but Fred reckons there's nothing easier." 

The girls look at each other and burst out laughing in the next second. "Like he'd know how to ask." Y/N managed to get out of her through her laughter, "however, I must agree with Harry and Ron. They're the most oblivious idiots." 

"Tell me about it." Hermione giggled but a trace of hurt flew over her face and Y/N suddenly felt really sorry for her dear friend. 

"Hey Y/N!" Fred shouted out of the blue, his clear voice echoed through the Great Hall causing other students to perk up their heads in order to find out what possibly he has in mind now. 

Y/N threw a look full of question marks to Hermione before turning her head to the tall red-head. "Yes?"

The moment his typical mischievous grin appeared on his face Y/N knew that something either funny and unpleasant to her or something embarrassing is about to happen.

"Will you..." Fred kept on talking as loudly as possible while wildly gesturing with his arms - apparently pretending to dance, "go to the ball..." now he was just pointing at her and him, "with me?"

Y/N's whole face turned brightly red, her nervous eyes wandering from student to student with such awaiting and amused expressions on their faces. Her heartbeat fastened in the matter of seconds that it seemed like it might jump out of her chest. Y/N looked at Hermione for help with such desperation hidden behind her gaze but her friend just simply shrugged, absolutely shocked with the sudden question, just like Y/N was.

A few seconds passed and Y/N was still sitting at her spot totally speechless. She imagined many times how Fred would ask her to the ball but never in a million years did she think it'd be like this - shouting at her in front of the whole Great Hall with absolutely no sign of sincerity or romance; to her it seemed like some sort of a bet to prove his point.

Their eyes for a moment and Y/N realized that Fred was convinced that she's going to accept his offer, confidence was basically radiating off of him. She knew he's not bragging, Fred was one of the kindest people she'd ever met but sometimes, sometimes he just wasn't able to estimate the situation. 

Anger was slowly bottling up in her as she quickly stood up grabbing all her books. As much as it hurt her to say it, Y/N was still able to straighten up looking directly into his eyes. "Sorry, Weasley, not interested. But thanks for the offer, I feel flattered." The sarcasm in her voice was more than obvious. 

Y/N winked at Hermione, rightly feeling satisfied with her as she heard a few laughs from many students when she walked out of the Great Hall leaving absolutely speechless and embarrassed Fred Weasley. 

•••

Y/N rushed into her dormitory, not wanting to deal with anybody at the moment as the anger was slowly transforming into hurt. This wasn't what she imagined.

She threw herself at her bed; her books were casted off on the ground, papers flying all over the place.

"Y/N! Wait!" a muffled voice of the too familiar Weasley filled her ears and before she knew it, Fred was standing in the middle of her dormitory with flushed cheeks due to the long run, doors slammed shut behind him. 

"Let me explain." he almost begged taking a few steps towards her. She quickly got on her feet as she shook with her head couple of times. "Please, no. I don't care if your intentions were the noblest, but it happened and that's it."

"If you could just let me talk."

But Y/N didn't see the regret in Fred's eyes, or how his hands trembled a little bit, she was way too furious to notice all these things.

"Try to see things from my point of view, Weasley! You basically shouted at me in front of the whole school if I want to go to the ball with you! I understand that you just wanted to prove something to Ron and Harry but this is not a game for me."

Every single word that left her mouth went straight to Fred's heart. He never in a million years intended to hurt Y/N, he'd rather suffer himself than have something happen to her. But he was scared, Fred felt truly terrified of asking her out and when the boys confronted him about it, he panicked. He didn't have an idea why he reacted that way. The pounding heart, sweaty palms, the hotness in his cheeks - all this was new to Fred Weasley and he wasn't sure what do to with his stormy emotions.

"I'm real sorry, Y/N. I didn't want to offend you but that doesn't mean I don't stand behind what I said earlier." he tried to ease the tense in the small room, his lips even formed into a cute little innocet smile.

"I don't know, Weasley. I simply think-"

"Let me make it up to you! The ball's tomorrow, just say yes."

Then they were there - Fred's puppy eyes that no matter how serious the problem was, Y/N wasn't able to bring herself to say no. She knew he's very well aware of that fact, he somehow managed to melt her heart.

"Fine. I'll go to the Yulle ball with you, Weasley. Don't make me regret it."

"I can certainly promise you that, Y/L/N."

•••

Y/N was nervously pacing in her new white dress that she got from Mrs. Weasley while Hermione was watching her with an amused expression.

"You know, this isn't funny." she frowned but a part of her was telling her how unreasonably ridiculous she is.

"Actually it is," her best friend couldn't held back the laughter, "you'll be fine. I bet he's even more nervous than you are." 

"Hermione! His mum thinks I'm bloody dating him!" 

"That's just so perfect. Maybe you will be after tonight."

Their eyes met for a moment and then, as if their minds were connected, the girls started giggling like some 13-year-olds. Y/N finally relaxed a bit, just like Hermione did, as they both promised themselves to look after each other during the evening.

"So what do you think?" Y/N winked at her friend, "shall we?"

"Absolutely."

•••

The duo walked together down the stairs leading to the dance hall, side by side, both of them smiling widely. Y/N found Fred's tall figure right away as he was nervously pacing back and forth mumbling something under his breath while George watched him amused. Just like Hermione watched her a couple minutes ago. God, how similar they could be.

"Well done, brother dear. Fucking well done." George whispered into his twin's ear tapping his shoulder. Fred's gaze immediately landed on approaching Y/N making him stop in his tracks. George just smirked and left with his own date to give them some privacy.

Fred was closely watching her every step, how elegantly she carried herself through the room, the beautiful white dress flew around her making her look like an angel descending from the sky. 

"Blimey, I don't think I've ever seen something so beautiful like you." Fred breathed out, his eyes roaming all over her body.

"You don't look too bad as well, Weasley." Y/N blushed at his compliment as she sent him one nervous smile. The truth was, he looked way more better than just 'not bad' and she had to remind herself not to stare at him too much. He pulled her into his side, his scent and warmth immediately embracing her, and she found herself falling for this dangerously good looking red-head. 

"Everybody's turning their heads after you. I swear I even saw a smile on Snape's face." Fred pointed out, his voice filled with obvious jealousy as his grip on her waist tightened. 

"I don't care, just hold me, Fred." Y/N gave him a reassuring smile taking his hand in his, "just hold me."

"I never wanted anything more." 

[ghostiiiee]

Just Like Me

To read at my Ao3 CLICK HERE This is the first chapter. sorry is its a little rough. :sweatdrop:

Almost forgot! Tw: i will be going heavy on quirkless discrimination and mental health issues. Theres not much in the first chapter but i do want to touch on it at some point.

School was never something he looked forward to. After all, what was there to look forward to? He was used to getting bullied, made fun of for being different, called names, shoved around. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Many years ago, maybe he would have been the normal one? 

Then again, what even was normal?

It used to be normal to go to school- learn history, math, science and whatever language the school taught. 

It used to be normal to not have any powers, after all -  superheroes were a dream. Stories people made up to tell themselves. Heroes existed, yes, but they never had powers. Heroes were just people, average people. 

Again, there's another word that's changed. Average. 

Normal. Average. 

Two hundred years ago, it was normal for the average person to look human.

Two hundred years ago, it was normal  for the average person to have no powers.

Two hundred years ago, it was normal for superheroes to only be a thing of stories.

That was two hundred years ago. Not now.

Now it's weird to not have powers.

Now you get bullied for being regular. Quirkless.

One of 20%. 

Mathematically, he thought it was stupid that so many people get treated so differently. He did remember Mr. Lancer telling him of people getting treated for less. Mr. Lancer told him two hundred years ago, 10% of the population was seen as satanic because of what hand they used to write with. A similar estimated percent was discriminated against because of who they loved, or what they identified as. 

“Sadly, Mr. Fenton, the human race has a history of not tolerating those who they see as a minority.”

“I remember that from history Mr. Lancer.” Danny sighed, leaning his head on his hand. His eyes stared out the window, looking at the stormy weather. “I remember you talking about how things used to be.”

The teacher pursed his lips, staying quiet and looking at him with concern.

Lancer had asked Danny to stay after class to speak to him. He never did like how Daniel’s peers would gang up on him after school ended. The best he could usually do was this. Casper’s principal was... far too likely to be accepting of anything the more wealthy students’ parents had to say.

“Is that why you’ve been spacing out all day then, Danny?” 

It was asked gently. Danny’s eyes glanced over to the balding teacher before darting back to the window. He hummed for a moment. “...Kinda. I got a lot on my mind.”

“Penny for your thoughts then?” Lancer pulled his chair next to his desk.

It was quiet for a few minutes, the sound of rain gently pattering against the classroom windows filled the room while Danny collected his thoughts. Blue eyes watched raindrops roll down the glass.

“I don’t get it, Mr. Lancer.” His voice was quiet as the floodgates opened. “Everyone in my family has quirks. Dad is strong. My mom can copy anyone’s fighting styles just by watching. Jazz can look at someone and-.... well you know.” He sank down into his chair. “Aunty A, even has a quirk. I've never seen her miss a shot. And then there's me. Daniel James Fenton. The first quirkless person in our family in a long time. Don’t get me wrong either, it doesn’t bother me too much.” Liar. “It’s just... it feels like the cherry on top of everything else.

“My parents got an invitation to teach some classes at UA in Japan. In Japan, I've never lived anywhere but here. Amity Park. It’s not like they can leave me here. PLUS, Jazz has always wanted to go there for the General studies.”

“I understand your concern, Danny. But I’ve seen your work,” There was slight amusement in Mr. Lancers voice. “Aren’t you good at building things? I know I’ve caught you tinkering with something more than once in class.”

Danny’s face flushed red. “...My parent’s usually make those. They’re old models of support gear they have made. I was seeing if I could get a glitch out.”

“And?”

“...I keep shocking myself.” He mumbled. “It hurts like hell.”

“While I can’t say I’m happy that you are getting injured. As long as you are safe, I'm glad.” Mr. Lancer offered a smile to the teen. “As for the other predicament, you are always open to contact me if you need me after you move.”

“Thank you Mr. Lancer.”

~~~~~~~

Danny was thankful that they moved over the summer and not in the middle of the year. School was already hectic enough as was. Moving in the middle of the year was not something he ever wanted to do, let alone moving across the globe in the middle of the year.

He kept to himself for the first few weeks. He liked to walk around, exploring the new area. It felt different than Amity park. More crowded. He noted early on there was definitely more hero around too. It didn’t bother him too much.

That's a lie.

More heroes means more villains.

He didn’t like villains.

He also didn’t like being a hostage.

Lucky him!

He was held hostage by a villain not even before the end of the second week. Not that this was a first time experience for him, having been a favorite target back in Amity Park. He knew all the heroes back home personally because of it. People just loved to take quirkless people hostage. One would think, with the target that seems to hang over his head, that Daniel James Fenton wouldn’t take such risks as walking around alone at night. One would think that if he did, it would be out of necessity, and he would at least have something on him to defend himself.

...yeah no that's not the case. Why in the world would that be the case?

Danny was shoved onto the ground, air leaving his lungs as he hit. He gasped for air, trying to look at who was targeting him now. He couldn’t really tell much about the person, ratty clothes and a hoodie pulled up to cover their face. Nothing could be seen under the hood, it was just shadow, pure, black shadow.

“What’s a runt like you doing out right now?” The villain crouched next to Danny. Chuckling when he tried to scoot away. They put a foot on one of Danny’s wrists, “Ah-ah. Now that’s rude. I’m talking to you punk.”

Danny didn’t respond, wincing at the pressure on his arm. 

“It’s rather rude to ignore your elders.” The villain put more pressure, adjusting so they were crouched like a vulture next to prey.

“F-fuck you. I’ve seen worse.” He growled

The regret in saying that was nearly instant. In the blink of an eye, the ground next to his head - that was solid concrete what the hell- was shattered. The villain was making an inhuman noise, a low gutteral sound coming from them. “You haven’t seen my worst. I wasn’t gonna do much to ya, but I’m starting to change my mind kid.”

He knew he should do anything else - he was already on a thin line - but fuck it. He had a free hand anyways. He grabbed something from his pocket and slammed it against the villain. “As I said before. Fuck. You.” He pressed the button on the side.

The machine sparked to life. Quite literally. Danny still didn’t know what it was supposed to do, but he could make it shock things. Like a weird taser. Unlucky for Danny he was literally pinned to the ground beneath the villain getting tased. And as everyone knows. Humans are conductive. Very conductive. 

Strangely the villain didn't even flinch. The growl getting louder as they grabbed the device from their shoulder and crushed it with their hand. Danny started shaking. Okay so that was a horrible idea. 

The shadows of the alley gathered around the villain. Climbing up their clothing and slowly slithering along their arm. They held Danny down, forming chains around him. In the villain’s hand, a knife, absorbing all light, The villian made the move to attack, and Danny closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to come.

It never did.

It lessened. 

Weight lifted from him, a weight he hadn’t realized was there besides his arm. Tentatively he opened his eyes. 

The villain was on the ground a few meters away from him, knocked out and tied up to a fire exit- similar to how Batman would leave criminals for the cops. Danny blinked. He hadn’t heard anything. So what in the world happened? And how could that have happened so fast? 

Standing up, he looked around for a sign of anyone being there to help him.

Oddly enough. It seemed no one had caused the villain to go down, at least not that Danny could see. Blue eyes scanned the area for a moment, looking for anything that wasn’t there before. Nothing popped out. Nothing was out of place. It looked like no one had been there.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. The air condensed, forming mist as it left his mouth and floated away. It was like when he first stepped outside in the winter. Which was strange- it was the middle of summer. A small frown formed on his face. The nights here weren’t that cold normally. 

He brushed it off, ignoring the goosebumps running along his skin as the air chilled. Perhaps whoever knocked the villain out had a rather cold quirk, he mused to himself. Heroes normally make themselves known at this point, checking to see if he was okay. 

He had an inkling it wasn’t a hero. At least not a licensed one. Not that he minded. He didn’t care who it was really. They saved his life… he was grateful for that.

Danny looked up to the clear sky, moonlight peaking over the buildings enough to illuminate the alley where the street lights glowed. He smiled up to the stars. “Thank you.” He said softly. “I wasn’t paying attention tonight.”

He left the alley, starting his way back home. He never caught sight of the figure watching him.

[ijustwant2write]

Swept Off Your Feet-Bucky Barnes x Reader

(GIF credit to @photografya​)

Tags: @amirahiddleston​ @bloodorangemoonlight​

Requested by @husherstan: heyaaa, can you write a one w sam or bucky where the reader is taking classes of dance with nat and wanda. When they have to go with a partner she don't know who invite and the boys are trying to catch her attention dancing around her or something like that. Fluff and smut in the end (just if you feel comfortable)

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader (platonic), Sam Wilson x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Fighting, fluff

                                      *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I eyed the dancing instructors up and down, wondering if this was Nat’s idea of a practical joke. She said in order to be prepared for all types of missions, my dance technique would have to be top notch, especially if I were to attend some upper class party and either catch the eye of my target or blend in. I knew various steps, though apparently there was much more I had to learn before I was ready.

“Come on, you’re a natural already, this will be easy for you.” Nat reassured me as she slipped on her heels.

I was doing the same, making sure they were on securely.“If you say so. At least the guy is cute.”

Nat playfully rolled her eyes at me before we approached the instructors, one a woman, the other a man. They both had sharp features, stern looks plastered on their faces. 

“Natasha, it’s been a while.” the woman smiled, holding her hand out to me. She had a Russian accent, and I assumed she was an old friend of Nat’s.“I am Annika, and this is Alex. We taught Nat everything she knows.”

“About dancing?” I asked.

The three of them chuckled.“Let’s get started. I’d like to see what you already know (Y/N). May you perform a simple waltz step with Alex?”

I nodded, getting into position with Alex, nodding my head when I was ready. We steadily waltzed as Annika counted, not using all of the space in the studio but enough to show that I could add more flair if needed.

“Good,” Annika said,“now, try some tango steps.”

I was also fluent in this style, it was one of the basics. As Alex and I showcased what I knew, I was wondering if Nat under estimated me. These were basics dances, simple steps, I was expecting much pacier styles, more complicated movements. Though I supposed not a lot of people knew how to dance with a partner, I had only been on a select few missions that required this skill.

“Now Alex.” Annika called out suddenly, confusing me.

Before I could even wonder what she could possibly mean, Alex changed his footwork, tripping me up. As I started to fall, he grabbed me around my waist with both arms, flipping me on my back onto the floor, pouncing on me as if we were about to fight; and we were. I recognised these attacks, able to defend myself from his punches, catching on arm and using it to pull him towards me. I used my legs to push against his stomach, sending him flying over my head. We both quickly got onto our feet, arms raised in defence.

“She’s very good Nat. You were right, this is going to be fun.” Annika laughed, easing the tension. 

Alex smiled, losing his stature and approaching me with an outstretched hand.“Sorry, that was a very...forward introduction.” His accent was also Russian.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I shook it.“I’m very confused right now, what just happened?”

“I wasn’t fully honest with you (Y/N).” Nat started.“We are brushing up on our steps, but we’re also coordinating attacks into them, big and small. I know any of us could do it, but Annika has some amazing techniques.”

I grinned.“Why didn’t you say so in the first place? This is going to be so fun!” 

Annika nodded as she crossed her arms over her chest.“I like this one.”

We spent two hours every week with Annika and Alex, working on refreshing dance steps as well as incorporating fight moves. It was basically a dance class, but some movements were violent and would hurt your partner. Having Nat there was also helpful, she knew some of these movements and was able to demonstrate them. It didn’t take me long to pick them up, soon we were wearing evening gowns to practice in. It had been four weeks, and we had just returned from another lesson. My feet were sore, it was noticeable as I slowly walked into room, headed for the plush sofas.

“Uh oh, someone’s two left feet are on fire!” Sam teased as I collapsed next to him.

I retaliated by propping my legs onto his lap.“Take these off and I’ll let that slide.”

He chuckled but did as I asked.“How is the dancing coming along?”

“It’s very good actually. The instructor says I look like a professional.”

“So is ‘Dancing With The Stars’ on the table?”

I made a face at him, which only made him laugh more. He pushed my legs away, dangling my shoes in front of my face. I snatched them away, pouting at him until Bucky entered the room.

“What are you two squabbling about?” he said, sitting adjacent to me. 

“(Y/N) is headed to another career path. She’s a dancer now.” Sam answered before I could.

I huffed.“No, all I said was-”

"Ah, ah, ah, you just said that you look like a professional!" Sam raised a finger at me. 

"No, I said the instructor made that comment. It's like you don't even listen to me."

"I used to be good at dancing, back in the day." Bucky piped up. 

Sam and I looked at him, and I was genuinely interested."Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I remember one night there was this girl I had my eye on for an hour or two. She was shy, wouldn't let anyone take her for a dance. So, I approached her and somehow persuaded the girl to dance with me. We danced all night long, doing every step you could think of."

"Aw, Bucky that's really sweet. Do you remember her name?" 

He shook his head."No. But I remember the steps. Reckon I'm still just as good." 

I scoffed."You haven't lost your cockiness either."

"Come on (Y/N), it's not that hard." Sam said. 

"What? The dancing?" 

"Yeah. Both Bucky and I could dance circles around you." 

"Is that you challenging me? Because if it is," I turned my body to face him,"I want to discuss the terms of winning and losing before we shake on it." 

He chuckled."Alright. Let's think...Bucky and I will come along to your class, we'll be your partners. We all get three mistakes to make, whether that be a wrong foot, bad posture, anything of the sort. Whoever your instructor thinks is best is the winner." 

"What happens to the loser?" 

"They have to do the funky chicken dance all by themselves, in the middle of the dance floor, at the charity event in a few weeks."

Bucky huffed."That will be in front of the mayor."

I glanced over my shoulder at Bucky."Well, if you think you're going to lose, say so now. Save us all some broken toes from you two stepping on us."

Bucky smiled as he rolled his eyes."Fine. Let's do this."

We waited until next week's lesson to put our bet into action. I had filled in Natasha on what she missed, but she was just as determined as I was to win. It would be a breeze. Sure, Bucky had first hand experience of certain styles, especially since he grew up with the tracks and steps, but everything else was new. However, Sam was a tricky one. I had danced with him at parties and nights out, but anyone could do that after a few drinks. This was completely different. I couldn't imagine Sam doing any type of partner work, maybe a slow dance with a date, but it was limited. 

"Hope you've been practicing." Sam announced his presence, Bucky walking in behind him. 

"Oh, don't worry, we have." Nat smirked, winking at me when the guys weren't looking. 

"This is good." Annika said."It's time to put your practice into other partners. Alex here knows your every move." 

"Don't tell me you're that predictable ladies?" Sam teased. 

"Oh, I think you'll both be surprised." I smiled sarcastically, though they didn't pick up on that. 

Annika ordered who was with who. I was paired with Bucky, who didn't seem nervous like I thought he might be. Him being a reserved person, I had only ever seen him 'dance' twice at any gathering, and usually it was a simple bop or side step. Maybe his memory would serve him well, and his fluent feet would come flooding back to him. 

"We start with waltz like usual ladies. Let the men get warmer up. Ladies, I would hold back on this one." Annika advised before switching on the music. 

Bucky slipped his hand around my waist, the other holding my hand as I asked,"Nervous?" 

He quickly pulled me against his body, making me gasp, which he noticed."Relax doll."

I almost forgot to move after that. Buck's hand firmly held onto me, but it wasn't gripping me, it was just secure. We were so close as we circled around the room, catching glimpses of Nat and Sam doing the same. Bucky wasn't afraid to make eye contact, squeezing my hand every now and then, for whatever reason. I kept my composure, forcing myself to look back in his eyes, to not back down. 

"Alright," Annika shouted over the music,"I'm sure you gentlemen know how to tango?" 

The music flicked onto a faster track, much more fiery, passionate than the previous. Our postures changed, as did our speed. Bucky somehow looked at me differently. His gaze was more intense. Was he trying to freak me out? Did they come up with tactics to distract us?

His hands moved freely in my body, remaining respectful, but able to make my cheeks blush. He was an extremely handsome man, I didn't mind admitting that, and having said handsome man dance so close to you like this made you flustered. Focus (Y/N), gawk at Bucky another time. 

"Ladies, I do believe you're being quite lazy." Annika yelled out, and Nat and I knew what to do. 

I pushed Bucky away as if it were part of the dance. There was a moment where we locked eyes, and I was debating pouncing on him in a different sense. But I kept my nerve, sprinting towards him as I started to throw punches. His face twisted into confusion as he defended himself, quickly having to block my attacks. I dropped to the floor, sliding one leg out and using it to swipe him off his feet. He landed in his back, yelping out as I straddled him. However, he knew what to do, flipping us over so he was on top. Bucky tried to restrain my hands, going for my legs too when I slipped them over his shoulders; squeezing his neck slightly, I rocked back before using all of my weight to push me forwards, and once again he was lying down. I leapt to my feet, holding my defence up when the music stopped. 

"Good work ladies, rehearsals have definitely paid off." Annika clapped. 

Sam and Bucky were both on the floor. They were trying to catch their breaths and piece together everything that happened in the last few minutes. 

"What just happened?" Bucky asked, groaning as he stood up. 

"That was our dance class. Always wonder why we come back with so many bruises? Well now you know." I confidently put my hands on my hips.

“That wasn’t fair!” Sam protested, still lying on the floor.“There was no mention of fighting, so we win by default.”

“You just said you would come along to class and be our partners. The three mistakes you were allowed to make didn’t necessarily have to be related to dancing, we never specified that. Besides, it’s up to Annika to decide the winners.”

We all looked at her, waiting to see who she declared victorious.“Like I have to even say it? The ladies, of course.”

Nat and I cheered, high fiving each other. Nat went over to speak with Annika, arranging our final lesson next week where we would be assessed. Our teacher was right, this was good practice. I giggled to myself as Bucky helped Sam to his feet, sitting down on the floor myself to take off my shoes. I didn’t notice Bucky approaching me until I saw his feet in my peripheral vision.

“Hey, you alright? Sorry about that little surprise.” I said as he knelt beside me.

“It’s fine.” he smiled.“Very impressive though, the transition from dancing to fighting very smooth.”

“Well, I have been rehearsing...training...whatever you want to call it.”

“Your dancing isn’t so bad either.”

“Oh? Is that all you have to say about that?” I smirked.

“No, no, no, you’re good, it’s just that...I think you’re too used to your old partner.”

“Alex?”

“Yeah.”

“So what do you suggest I do to fix this problem?”

“Well, I could help. I mean, back in my day, dancing in couples was a normal thing.”

“Yes, and your day was quite a few years ago.”

We chuckled together.“Ouch, I already knew that. What I’m trying to say is, I would like to take you out dancing some time. And not just for practice.”

I stood up, and he copied.“I would love that. Just don’t show me up on the dance floor.”

“After seeing you, I don’t think anyone will be looking at me when we’re out.”

I could feel myself blushing again, trying to think of something flirty to say back when Sam slapped a hand down on Bucky’s shoulder.“Come on man, you can’t be flirting with the enemy. We’ve got to leave here with our heads held high.”

Sam started dragging Bucky away, I called out to him.“Hard thing to do when your butt was just on the floor moments ago.”

“I’ll text you!” Bucky managed to get out before he disappeared through the door.

“You see, not only are my classes great for dancing and fighting, you have also secured a date.” Annika cheered.

“Yes, thank you Annika. Actually, are there any moves you think might help get me a second date too?”

[echodrops]

I’m obviously late to the tumble party... but I stumbled across your Notagami Essays posts and they are absolutely Fabulous! Love your writing and the amount of detail you go into :)

So I figured you may be a good person to ask - if you just had to guess (bc as far as I know it’s never been officially confirmed?) but if you had to take a guess or give a rough estimate, how old do you think Yato was when he first met Sakura? We know he’s estimated to be at least a thousand years old, we know he’s - from the start of the series to present - estimated to be somewhere between 18 and his early 20s (physically)... but I can’t find a single thing/discussion/post/stickynote/whatever where it talks about how old he might have been when he first met Sakura - let alone the emotional/psychological effects of Sakura coming into his life and introducing healthy mindset/morals/maternal-influence etc. etc. (obviously no mom and Father’s neglect played a big role in him not knowing how inappropriate it was for him to ‘accidentally touch’ and yell “boobs!” but you can also just say he was so young he didn’t know how inappropriate that was?) My point is: how old do you think Yato was (physically anyway) at the time of their meeting? and Do you know of any discussions or care to share your opinion on how being the no more than the age of blank affected his mental/emotional understanding of Sakura teaching him a new narrative?

Sorry this is a random out of the blue ask 😅😓 if I rambled on and you don’t feel like answering, I get it, just figured it was worth asking :)

I fell down a serious rabbit hole trying to see if I could figure out the answer to this question about Yato’s age but unfortunately I’m mostly coming up empty-handed.

The answer to this question actually depends on two different pieces of information which--as far as I can remember--we’ve never actually been given for certain.

1) We would need to know when Yato was actually born.

The manga has kind of hinted at a total (not physical) age for Yato in the flashbacks which showed him as a young child during the Heian era (putting him somewhere in the vicinity of a little over 1000 years old) and Father not making masks before ~1100 years ago, but the problem is we still don’t know how many years might have passed between this scene (the youngest we’ve ever seen Yato):

And the next flashback scene, where Yato meets Nora:

If gods age normally when they are children, these two scenes might be only a handful of years apart. But if gods don’t age normally, then these two scenes could be decades or centuries apart, which leads to the other missing piece of information (under the read more to save people’s dashes):

2) We would need to know the aging process for gods who are just born/reincarnate.

Up to this point in the manga, we’ve only seen two gods reincarnate--Ebisu (who reincarnated too recently to really help answer this question) and Takemikazuchi. The implication of Takemikazuchi’s backstory is that his shinki forced him to reincarnate and then hid his reincarnation from all of Heaven. The only way they could have kept other gods from noticing that Takemikazuchi had reincarnated would have been by not allowing him to go out at all until he had grown enough to match his previous reincarnation in appearance. This seems to suggest that gods probably do age normally when they are children--hiding Takemikazuchi away for ~20 years seems a lot more likely than being able to hide him away for centuries, after all... (I also feel like I have very vague recollection of some scene in the manga where someone comments on Takemikazuchi not having been around for a “few years,” but it’s been so long since I reread I can’t recall if this is a real moment from the manga or just me misremembering.) 

Overall, however, based on what we’ve seen in the manga, my guess would be that when they’re young, after just being born or being reincarnated, gods age pretty normally. This would suggest that, for the first few years at least, the physical and mental ages of reincarnated/newly born gods actually overlap; baby Ebisu acts like a little kid because he is, in fact, both mentally and physically a little kid.

That would mean that, for all intents and purposes, Yato’s physical and mental ages lined up when he was young and meeting Sakura, and he acted like a little kid because he really was just a little kid, god or not.

(Detour for a second though: 

This line always struck me as interesting in that it might, just might, give us a more specific timeframe for Yato’s “birth”: although the constellations, of course, are visible in the sky every single year, this particular combination of concepts (kanoto-tori, yin metal rooster) is known much more commonly as one of the sixty years on the cyclical Chinese calendar, also used in Japan. Counting back on the calendar, 961 A.D. was a yin metal rooster year and would align just about right for what we know about the timeframe in which Yato later met Sakura (~970ish). Just referencing constellations doesn’t mean Adachitoka was pointing to a specific year, but it might have been another hint as to the timeframe of the flashbacks.

Okay, detour over.)

Anyway, without 100% confirmation on either of those pieces of information--when Yato was born and whether gods age at the same rate as humans after reincarnating--I don’t think it’s really possible to pin down Yato’s “real” age (physically or mentally) at the time he met Sakura. We mostly just have to estimate. 

Personally, based on his size and behavior at the time, I’d put him somewhere between seven and maybe up to ten, but the way Adachitoka draws characters kind of makes it impossible to judge their ages by appearance; Yato is about the same size as Nora when he meets Sakura, implying that he and Nora were around the same physical “age” at that time; meanwhile, Nora is later portrayed as being roughly the same age as Yukine, suggesting she was maybe 12-13ish years old when she died. So, despite being drawn tiny, it’s possible Yato was meant to be anywhere from a little kiddo (6-7) to all the way up to Nora’s age by the time he met Sakura.

But all that said, I think what you were really asking about was more the mental state Yato would have been in when he met Sakura and how his young age would have impacted his ability to change his world views, right? The answer to that is... complicated and could be approached a lot of ways. Coming from a background of working with and educating social work students, there are several common psychological theories of child development that might apply here, for example. 

I’d recommend checking out Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of development, though. 

(Pulled from here.)

I don’t have time to explain the entire theory with the complexity it might deserve, but the basic idea is that, as children develop, they experience a series of crises or challenges that they must overcome. Successfully overcoming each challenge results in successful psychological and social development; failing to overcome a challenge in childhood will result in long-term negative impacts later in the child’s life. (There are plenty critiques of this theory too, so don’t take this as gospel or anything--just a theory worth thinking about!)  

Given Father’s lack of interest in teaching Yato basic concepts of humanity, I would put Yato at approximately the “Initiative vs. Guilt” stage when he met Sakura. At this level of Erikson’s theory, children struggle with asserting themselves and developing a healthy sense of how their personal desires might conflict with the expectations and rules set out by others. In this stage, giving a child positive feedback for their actions teaches the child that those actions are “right,” while giving negative feedback teaching the child that their actions are wrong. In order to overcome this particular challenge, children need to begin taking initiative and aligning their actions with social standards; the child acts, and the parental figure reacts--through this process, children learn “I can do X thing but I cannot do Y thing.” 

When you hear things like “Children are cruel,” most often what people are referring to is that it takes time for children to learn empathy and to experience guilt when they cause harm to others; children do not natively understand the repercussions of their actions. It’s only through a process of testing the boundaries, of receiving praise or punishment, that children define what is “right” versus “wrong,” and begin to feel bad when they do something deemed wrong.

And this is pretty much word-for-word what we see Sakura teaching Yato.

If they have healthy role models and caretakers during this phase, children develop successfully. Successful children in this phase get their first taste of personal responsibility; unsuccessful children are (supposedly) plagued for years afterward by a sense of guilt and shame when their actions produce disapproval from everyone around them.

Yato... doesn’t exactly make it through this development stage unscathed, because he receives conflicting definitions of right and wrong from his Father an Sakura:

Which ultimately results in, years later, the Yato we know and love who still does his Father’s bidding to kill humans even though it fills him with a horrific sense of guilt:

Through his time with Sakura, I think it could also be argued that Yato moves into the next stage of Erikson’s theory as well, getting into the “Industry versus Inferiority” crises. 

Meeting Sakura brings out Yato’s true, deep down desire as a god: to help people. (I think it’s important to note that this isn’t something Sakura teaches him--it’s a quality Yato already possessed; it was explicitly Yato’s desire to please people that led to him murdering in his father’s name.)

Once he learns what makes people happy, Yato immediately pursues that with intense focus:

The primary goal of this phase of psychosocial development is to experience a sense of confidence in one’s actions. When children practice their skills, pursue areas where they are praised, and gain new skills and aptitudes through mentoring from healthy role models, they gain confidence in their ability to excel, to fit in with peers their age, and to create meaningful things. By encouraging Yato to pursue positive behaviors--playing peacefully with other children, appreciating natural beauty, and creating useful things like boots for the needy--Sakura moved Yato toward successfully completing this phase and developing a sense of confidence in his actions and his ability to achieve positive things in the world. 

Of course, Father cannot have that (because confident children with a sense of self-worth are much more difficult to abuse), so he puts an immediate end to Sakura’s influence over Yato in the most insidious way possible: although he clearly manipulated the situation to achieve Sakura’s death, out loud, he blames Yato, implying that Sakura’s death was all Yato’s fault, the results of Yato taking unwanted action “industry” and yet failing--creating a sense of “inferiority” instead.

This, of course, haunts Yato all the way to the present, as he--again and again and again--blames himself for things outside his control or failing to live up to expectations that no one in his situation (still being manipulated) could possibly hope to get “right.” 

Finally, you could say that Sakura’s presence is Yato’s life is ultimately what sows the seeds of the manga’s main plot up to this point, with Yato’s quest to create an entirely new identity for himself as a god of fortune instead of a god of calamity. Personally, I would say that Yato is currently still in this phase of development, still working out how to define himself and who he will ultimately become once he is finally free to decide on his own path in life. It was Sakura’s gentle influence--his desire to become the kind of god who could make her smile--that eventually sparked his conflict and finally led Yato to the brink of catastrophe. If he wishes to become the god Sakura told him he could be, he can no longer suffer his father to live.

So, long story longer, I think it can be argued that Yato meeting Sakura at such a young age is EXACTLY what made it possible for him to change, and exactly what has led to his crisis in identifying himself and redefining his sense of right and wrong. 

Uhhhh... I hope that answers your question!

[mc-lukanette]

Grade for Each Other (Part 3)

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Luka wasn't sure how much information he'd actually retained from the school day, and honestly, he couldn't say that he cared. He probably just ended up smiling to himself the whole time, likely leading people to think that he was just really happy with whatever was being said.

If said things came from Marinette's mouth, there'd at least be some truth in that.

Luka looked over to Marinette as they left school together, watching her dig into her backpack for something seemingly important. Just as he was about to ask her if she wanted help, she finally pulled out a single piece of paper and held it straight out, her face determined and the gesture singing, 'victory!'

She clearly didn't know that he was staring and was just acting on her own energy. She was so adorable and he couldn't help grinning.

Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, she—

"Marinette?" he called.

She looked over at him, halfway to unfolding the paper. "M-mm?"

He pointed at her backpack, which she hadn't closed yet.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh!" Blushing in embarrassment, she asked, "Can you...?"

He smiled. "Gladly."

Stepping behind her, he grabbed the zipper tab and pulled it around to neatly close her backpack. He could hear her fiddling with the paper and respected her privacy enough not to peek at it over her shoulder.

Suddenly, Mito called out behind him, "Luka~!"

He looked over, seeing Claudine, Roche, and Mito almost huddled in a vague circle, which could only mean bad things according to him. Claudine was grinning, Mito was waving and Roche was giving him a two-fingered salute.

Without turning his head, Luka glanced at Marinette's backpack, then pulled his hands away, raising them to show his innocence.

The three promptly went back to discussing things amongst themselves. He was suspicious, but wasn't going to eavesdrop. It was entirely possible that they were talking about where the four of them were going to hang out that day, but he imagined that wasn't it, or they would've involved him.

To his side, Marinette made a sound of discomfort, vaguely mumbling what sounded like his name. Taking that at his cue, he finally glanced at the paper in her hands.

It was a map, seemingly of the walk from school to her home. He knew full well that her old school was just a brisk walk from there to her house, so it made sense for her to be prepared for something longer.

Her brows were furrowed. Her nose was scrunched up. Her lips were pouting just slightly.

Finally, she sighed, mumbling, "Ah, nevermind..."

Luka straightened, realizing what she'd been about to ask. He could imagine the difficulty of her eying the map and also having to keep looking up to ensure that she wasn't blindly walking into danger.

Immediately, he asked, "Marinette, would you like to walk home together?"

She turned her head to him so quickly that he recoiled. Her expression had shifted instantly to surprise and hope. "Really? It's not—I mean, I've never had to before and thought that maybe it was a little childish and—"

"It's not," he insisted with a reassuring smile. "Your house is closer than mine anyway. I don't mind."

He really didn't mind.

Marinette's shoulders relaxed. "Thank you. I thought maybe you'd have plans with your—" She leaned to peek around him. "—oh."

He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder, seeing that his friends weren't there anymore.

Ah, so that was their plan.

He looked back at her, watching her take a quick look around, then at her map. She turned, then headed off in one direction, to which he happily followed after her.

"How's Lycee playing for you?" he asked idly as they walked, hoping that she was still comfortable with her situation.

She smiled. "Good so far. A lot more relaxing."

He'd already guessed it from how she behaved throughout the day, but it was nice to hear nevertheless. Part of him had presumed that her suddenly being in a higher grade would've been jarring.

"I'm getting used to it pretty quickly." She briefly made eye contact with him, her grin almost sly. "Plus, my deskmate is a lot calmer, which is nice."

His smile was far too wide to be normal. Reminding himself to pay attention to where they were going rather than her, he looked ahead. "I'm glad I could help. You deserve it, Marinette."

She sighed, almost blissfully. "Thank you."

Seeing the street they were about to cross, he reached out and gently grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. She looked up from her map to stare at him confusedly, then noticed a car passed by.

"Oh." She gave him an appreciative smile, then walked across when it was safe to pass. "Sorry. It might take a bit before I memorize how to get here and how to go back."

"There's no need to apologize." He followed after her and shrugged, wholly unbothered. "I'd walk you home every day if I could, Marinette."

It took him a second to realize what he'd said; that he'd clearly lowered his guard too much around her. He went to take it back, but paused when he saw the amused but happy look on her face.

Voice laced with a bit more confidence, she tilted her head back and stated, "I might have to take you up on that."

Please do, his heart sang. He knew he'd be teased forever but it'd be totally worth it.

They kept walking, Marinette slowly getting better at watching where she was going while also following her map. The click of her flats against the sidewalk was a pleasant accompaniment to his own footsteps, so even when they didn't talk, he still felt like they were communicating.

"...Luka?" Marinette suddenly piped up.

He met her gaze, hearing the unspoken question and feeling the shift in atmosphere. "What is it?"

"You—I mean, I guess you should know. I guess Juleka didn't say anything, and that's why you didn't know about me skipping grades."

"You don't have to—"

"I do though," she insisted. "It's just... I had to get away."

There was a pause, after which she straightened and corrected, "N-not from Juleka, of course! Your sister is fine—she—it's wasn't her that—" She cut herself off with a whimper.

"Even if it was Jule, I wouldn't judge you, Marinette," he assured. "Some instruments just don't go well together."

She slumped. "What about when an instrument makes all the other ones sound terrible?"

His brows rose. "Someone else?"

She nodded. As they reached a street crossing that forced them to stop, she turned to him. "There was... this girl in my class. She's—and you don't have to believe me—but she's terrible."

"I believe you," Luka told her without hesitance.

Marinette blinked. "What?"

"I believe you," he repeated. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because—" She sighed. "Juleka likes her, and she likes Adrien."

He was surprised, not in what she said, but how her voice sounded when she'd said it. There was a distinct lack of the usual 'ching' when she said Adrien's name.

He tried not to think about it, knowing it wasn't important to their current topic. "I trust you, Marinette. Jule..." He hesitated, then settled for, "There's a reason she is the way she is."

"Ah," Marinette uttered softly in acknowledgment. They were free to cross the street at that point, so she did alongside him, simultaneously getting back on track. "Well, she—not Juleka, the other girl—she's a liar. I tried to tell everyone but..." A bit of life left her voice. "They wouldn't believe me."

His fingers twitched. "She's new?"

"Yeah." She tried to focus on the map despite being clearly distracted. "She talks about all the famous people she knows and how talented she is, and she gets away with it whenever she can't prove something because it's just lies on top of lies. I was so sick of seeing her lead everyone on, but... there was nothing I could do. Adrien knew and he—he told me not to do anything."

Luka couldn't help the quiet "what?" that escaped his lips. This was all new to him and he couldn't comprehend that he hadn't heard a word of it before.

Marinette continued, "I mean—I know he didn't know that she threatened me, but she said that I'd lose everyone if I wasn't 'with her.' I didn't even really try anything after Adrien told me not to, and she—she got me expelled anyway."

The brief silence made it all the more clear to Luka how tired Marinette was all of a sudden, which was a stark contrast to the storm brewing in his chest. "That's—" He stopped to breathe. "That's why you left?"

"I got back in," Marinette assured, "but I just... I couldn't do it anymore. I thought about it, and the whole class was just exhausting. I was already the class representative, and then I had her to worry about, and then no one was believing me, and I—I had to go." She rubbed the back of her head nervously. "T-there were other reasons too, but that was the big one. I did tell everyone I was leaving, so they knew some of it and even then it was a lot, but it felt like I didn't have any other choice."

He nodded in understanding, trying to remain as calm as possible. Going off wouldn't help him - it would only get him akumatized - and that would've just caused her more stress.

Spontaneously, Marinette stopped in place, staring down at the ground with a distant expression. Luka stopped as well, facing her with a concerned expression.

"Marinette?"

"You must think I'm selfish," she murmured. "I...I abandoned everyone just because it was hard for me."

"What? No, I—" He instinctively reached for his guitar strap, glaring at nothing when he realized it wasn't there.

He looked around, getting a rough estimate of where exactly they were at the moment. An idea struck him, and he hastily asked, "Do you mind going off the map for a bit?"

She met his gaze, obviously confused as to what this had to do with what she'd just been saying. Still, she nodded.

He turned and went down the street, walking a bit faster than he normally would. The sound of Marinette's footsteps trailed behind him, assuring him that she was following him without hassle.

At the sight of the music store he'd managed to navigate to, he pushed the door open and held it until Marinette was inside. Afterward, he headed for the nearest guitar that he could handle, sitting down so it could rest in his lap. Looking up at her, he brought his left hand up to the guitar's neck. "See these strings?" He slid his fingertips onto them for emphasis.

She tilted her head, but nodded. With cautious curiosity, she approached and sat down in front of him, placing the map on her lap.

"Guitar strings are strong. They have to be to deal with all the strumming they go through," he explained. "They're tight, but they have the give they need to be played properly."

He eyed her, ensuring that she was still watching him. She seemed to recognize by then that he wasn't going to criticize her, so the tenseness in her shoulders had mellowed.

Making it so his fingers were across every string, he gripped them and pulled down; not enough to where he knew it'd cause actual stress, but enough to where it'd make someone inexperienced with guitars - like Marinette - very nervous.

"They can only take so much stress. They either wear out over time, or—"

He let go, Marinette initially flinching as if she'd expected the strings to actually snap. He waited a moment for her to process that, then held up two fingers to imitate string cutters.

"It's better to cut them than to let someone snap them. If something snaps them, it could cause some damage, but at least you're ready if you cut them yourself." He ran a hand from the top of the strings all the way to the bottom. "You can't replace the feeling of all the songs you played on them, but you can replace the strings."

He stared at her, observing the subtle shift in her expression. She looked thoughtful, her posture easing forward as she eyed the strings he was touching. Even when his own friends didn't understand his music dialect, she always seemed to take him seriously and understood the emotions he was conveying. He couldn't begin to explain how it made him feel, and he only hoped that she might feel the same when he comforted her, like now.

"You're not selfish, Marinette. Not at all." She met his gaze, and he continued, "You're taking care of yourself, and that's great. You have enough going on as it is."

She held eye contact with him for a moment longer. He didn't waver, not moving a muscle until she did so first.

Finally, she closed her eyes. She inhaled, exhaled, then gave him a small smile without looking directly at him.

"Thank you," she said. "Do you mind if we head back now?"

He smiled, satisfied. "Of course not."

Returning the guitar to its original position, he stood up and turned, Marinette already holding the door open for him. Together, they walked out of the music store, retracing their steps until Marinette could start following the map again.

They didn't talk for the rest of the walk to her house. Luka never pressed for conversation either, as the slightest look at her confirmed that she wasn't sad anymore; just soaking in what they'd talked about.

Eventually, the 'Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie' came into view. Luka waited until Marinette stopped in front of it, then he stepped around to face her, giving her a comfortable distance between them.

He expected a simple 'good-bye' or maybe just a wave if she wasn't feeling up to it, but instead, she gushed, "I'm so happy that you like having me around, Luka."

He gaped. He must've looked funny doing it too because she giggled.

"I—I was a little worried at first. You were quieter than usual while we were in school—" Oh, so she noticed. "—and I thought that maybe I did something, or you were thinking something bad about me."

He shook his head, even though she'd already confirmed that she didn't think that anymore. He dared to step forward, placing his hands on her shoulders and lowering himself so they were eye level.

He looked into her eyes with conviction. No matter what she thought now, he wanted her to know what he thought then.

"The only thing I was thinking about you is how this is all new to me, having my favorite melody around for the whole school day."

He felt her stiffen underneath his hands, her eyes wide and practically sparkling. "R-really?"

He swallowed at her powerful gaze, but managed to maintain eye contact with her. "Really. Yes, I was quiet because of you, but it was only in the best way."

She blinked at him, still looking to be in a state of surprise. Admitting to himself that he probably came on a little (okay, a lot) strong, he dropped his hands back to his sides and stood straight.

Not wanting her to feel pressured to respond to such a bold statement, he gave her a small wave and turned to leave. Just as he was facing completely away from her though, a pressure collided with his back, making him stumble.

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist, the light color of the skin unmistakable. He blushed as he realized that Marinette was hugging him from behind.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much, Luka, for everything. I'm so glad you're here and that I'm in your class."

He shuddered at how genuine she sounded. There was a distinct fondness in her voice, reminiscent of a harp that she'd so casually strummed every string of without effort.

The reverberation rung in his ears, and he could even swear that she was even nuzzling his back. He had to remind himself to breathe.

It was too much. She was too much. Still, somehow, he managed to pull himself together enough to rest one of his hands on hers.

"Me too, Marinette."

They stayed like that for a few seconds longer, with him all too aware of the sound of her breathing. Then, just as quickly as she'd hugged him, she pulled away, clearing her throat audibly.

"A-anyway, b-bye," she squeaked out. He could practically hear the blush in her voice, followed immediately by the sound of the bakery's door open and closing.

Marinette apparently stumbled a bit while inside, but he hadn't seen it for certain; only heard it. It wasn't because he hadn't wanted to turn to look at her, but rather because his body wasn't listening to him.

All at once, he sunk down to sit on his ankles, burying his face into his hands and exhaling against his palms, in a complete state of bliss.

He loved that girl.

[Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[plummyplums]

5AM and On - Chapter 2

When Sam lit their candle and saw the ghost children all standing before them, they were ready to turn and run faster than they ever had. However, they stopped in their tracks when they caught a glimpse of their hands.

Aka Sam tries to manage as a new companion to the Weaver kids and the whole, y’know, being dead thing.

I’m trying to have more fun with my writing, so I’m shirking some of my perfectionistic tendencies for this story.  Forgive me.

They weren’t sure how long they cried for, but Sam was exhausted.  When their tears finally dried up, they looked to find the kids were still there, the girl having moved to sit beside them.  Her black eyes seemed sympathetic.  Sam’s voice was thick as they asked, “Can...can I leave?  Am I stuck here?”

The following silence told them all they needed to know.  Sam sniffled, having expected this answer.  Ghosts don’t just stick around because they want to, at least not ghosts like these.  “So...is this the afterlife?  We just turn into ghosts and get stuck where we died?”

They all seemed to stiffen at the mention of an afterlife, but if they were truly uncomfortable, no one said anything about it.  “Most people don’t stay when they die.  Our last few visitors didn’t.  Just us...and now you,” the girl murmured.  “If we could leave, we would’ve.”

Overwhelmed and on the verge of crying again, they tried to keep their cool.  “So...I guess we’re all stuck here together, huh?”

The spirits nodded, obviously resigned to this fate.  It was more than a bit awkward, considering they were the ones who killed Sam, but they didn’t seem to have a choice.  It’s not like Sam chose to stay there (not counting the choice to play Wick in the first place).  The uncomfortable silence that followed was eventually broken by the largest child.  “We’re being rude, we should introduce ourselves.  I’m Benny.”

Rude?  You literally murdered me!  Sam chose to keep their thoughts to themselves, not wanting to have a fight the moment they properly meet these kids.  That discussion could wait, or never happen, if they didn’t feel like it.  Honestly, they didn’t want to think about the fact that they were dead, and as long as they didn’t talk about it or look at themselves, they didn’t have to face it.  Talking about literally anything else sounded great in that moment, so they took to the conversation, no matter how awkward and uncomfortable.  “I’m Sam.”

He gave a sad smile.  It was obvious he was just trying to be polite, perhaps as a way to make up for what had happened.  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.  I’m, uh, sorry we had to meet like this.”

“I wanna go next!” the girl interjected, jumping to her feet.  “I’m Lillian, and this is Caleb!”  She gestured to the digger child, who nodded eagerly before repeating his name.  The way his teeth clacked mixed with his raspy, dry voice made Sam shiver.  “He doesn’t really talk, but he can repeat stuff!”

“Repeat!”

Benny chuckled.  “Be careful what you say around him.”

Though a bit creeped out, they couldn’t help but chuckle at his energy.  It reminded them of some of their friends’ younger siblings, always excited and wanting to show off.

Their train of thought was interrupted by the boy in the smiling mask.  He seemed hesitant to speak to them.  “I’m Tim, and this is my brother Tom.  Before you ask, yes, we’re twins.”  The one with the cracked mask—Tom—didn’t meet their eyes.  Whether that was because of his obviously broken neck or shyness was unknown, though Sam was thinking the latter due to the way he shrunk behind Tim when they looked his way.  At least looking at him didn’t mess with their eyes anymore, the effect he caused had given them a headache.  The sight of bone poking through his flesh wasn’t that much better, however.

In fact, looking them over, the kids all looked pretty bad.  Tim was covered in scrapes and breathed noticeably, as if forcing himself to get air (Did ghosts need air?  Sam didn’t know).  Lillian’s skin was blue-grey, and it looked like her clothes were wet, not to mention her pure black eyes.  Caleb was near skeletal, rail-thin and with no eyes to speak of.  Benny seemed the best off, just from what Sam could tell.  It was unnerving, but also caused a bit of sympathy to grow in Sam.  They were just kids, but it looked like they’d been through a lot.  Maybe they had more in common than Sam would’ve guessed.

Without thinking, they asked, “How old are you guys?”

They looked surprised by the question, but gave their answers; Benny was the oldest at 14, followed the twins at 12, Caleb at 9, and Lillian a mere 5 years old (though she didn’t look it).  “Before we died, anyway.  No idea how old we are now, we haven’t kept track,” Tim noted.

Sam sighed.  They didn’t remember much of the story behind Wick, so they couldn’t really estimate.  “Let’s just go with what you remember.”

By then the sun was beginning to peek through the trees, and now that their adrenaline was wearing off, Sam was starting to feel the effects of being up all day and night.  They yawned, and everything suddenly felt quite heavy.  It was bedtime.  The kids seemed to pick up on their coming question, and Lillian helped them up as the others stood.  “C’mon, we sleep in the camp cabins.  They still have beds and stuff in them!”  She grinned, though Sam noticed she looked tired as well.  “I can teleport us, it’s faster.”

Remembering the nauseating feeling when she’d teleported them before, Sam quickly shook their head, chuckling nervously.  “It’s ok, I can walk.”

“Suit yourself!”  She shrugged, disappearing in a sort of haze.  Caleb dug into the ground with impressive speed, taking off in his little mole tunnel in the direction of the old summer camp.  Tim seemed to take this as a challenge, taking off after his trail as if racing him to the cabins.  His twin, seemingly not wanting to be left behind, also teleported away, leaving Sam to walk with Benny.  They were in no rush, and followed the path to the campsite, watching the sun rise on the horizon.

They mostly walked in silence, but as they got closer, Benny spoke.  “Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about...y’know.  We didn’t know you’d get trapped here too.”

Sam’s thoughts buzzed like static, and they tried desperately to end this line of conversation.  “It’s...it’s ok.  I shouldn’t have played that stupid game in the first place.  I just...I didn’t think it was real until it was already too late.”  They didn’t say anything else until they arrived at the cabins.  Benny led them to a cabin, saying the others had claimed theirs long before, and bid them good day.

Despite being exhausted, it took Sam almost an hour to get to sleep.

[firenze11]

A Fearun Tale Teaser

Alistair wrapped his hooded cloak tighter around himself. The brown cloak did a satisfactory job of blending in with the wooden mantle he was standing on. The fireplace beneath him filled the room with sweltering heat in this late summer evening, and it was simply a matter of placing himself in the shadows above that roaring hearth to avoid notice. If he did not move, the others in the room would not notice him. Well, the boy would not at least.

“Brandon,” The old woman croaked. “Climb up here. I want to tell you a story.”

The boy sighed, but he closed the book he had been reading by the fire’s light. He put it away on the shelf next to the bed and his chair, then obediently climbed up into the bed and leaned into his great-grandmother. Despite his young age, he was already a fearun’s height taller than the woman. It had been harder to notice before, but next to the aging woman, the boy’s unhealthy pale skin became more obvious. Many would think that the boy was sick, but the woman had told Alistair the tragic truth. The boy had death in his veins.

“You’re a good boy Brandon,” the matron whispered as she jerkily wrapped her frail arm around the boy. “Have I ever told you the story about the Fearun?”

The boy rolled his silvery white eyes, another sign of his heritage, “You’ve told me lots of stories of Grandma. I don’t remember them all.”

“I don’t think I’ve told you this story before. This one is special.”

At these words, the boy’s sleepy eyes had opened wide, and his back had straightened, but he didn’t speak.

Alistair smirked. The boy was clearly intrigued but was trying not to show it. Alistair found it difficult to estimate ages of the bigger folk, but the boy was probably somewhere between eight and twelve years old. He was old enough that he wanted to avoid appearing to be childish, but young enough that childish things still fascinated him.

“Do you want to know why it’s special?” the woman asked. She knew her great-grandson well.

The boy nodded, and Alistair’s grin only deepened. She had him right where she wanted him.

“This one is special, because it’s true,” the woman breathed.

The boy frowned, and his head jerked back a bit to look more clearly at the woman. His eyes were full doubt.

“You don’t have to believe me now,” the woman said with a knowing smile. “I just ask that you remember this one. Someday, you might believe.”

The boy’s face fell a bit, “Okay. I’ll remember, for you.” The boy’s voice cracked as he spoke.

Alistair felt for the boy. It was a hard thing to watch someone with so much life slowly fade away. The woman did not have many good days left in her. The boy likely sensed this too.

“Thank you, Brandon,” the woman smiled happily.

“I’m going to tell you about a race of people that most people have forgotten ever existed. They are a proud people, a warrior people. They call themselves, the Fearun.”

“The ferun?” The boy tried out the new word.

“Close enough. The Fearun live very long lives. Ten times as long as yours and mine. They live simple lives, hunting and farming. They are very private though and they value their solitude. They particularly don’t like humans stomping into their lives.”

The boy was listening intently, but he still held doubt darkening his face.

“But every once in a great while, they invite a human into their lives. No one’s really sure why they do this. Some people say it’s because they get bored. Others say that those people might get turned into Fearun themselves, and that that’s how they make more of themselves.”

The woman flicked her eyes at the mantle of the fireplace, and Alistair’s smile turned sad.

“However, I have it on very good authority that more than anything, the Fearun love to learn new things. They are incredibly curious you see. So, when you meet a Fearun, its usually because they want to learn from you. And because they value information, they share things about themselves with that human.”

“How come people don’t know about them?” the boy asked with a slight frown.

“For three reasons,” the woman paused to take a drink of water, and the boy fidgeted as he waited. The woman continued, “The first, is that they very rarely share their secrets with anyone. The second, is that they are exceptionally talented at hiding. And the third, is that they are very, very, small.”

“You mean they’re like fairies?”

“Even smaller than most of the fey. I’ve always thought they were more like elves personally. They even have the pointy ears.” The old woman held her fingers up to her own ears to illustrate. “But yes, they are quite small. In fact,” the woman took one of the boy’s hands in hers and held it. “One of them would easily fit into the palm of your hand.”

“Whoa,” the boy looked down at his hand in amazement. Any doubts had cleared from his eyes, and they were now filled only with the wonder of a child discovering that the world was even more amazing than he had believed.

“When a Fearun becomes friends with a human, the Fearun give them something to let other Fearun know that the human can be trusted.”

“Are you friends with a Fearun?” the boy asked.

Alistair smirked. Oh yes, the boy believed her now.

“I am,” the old woman admitted, “and my friend gave me this.”

The old woman took her hands away from the boy’s hand. In it was a bracelet of woven leather strands. The leather strands were thinner even than the threads which made up the boy’s clothing. They were woven together tighter than any human’s big clumsy fingers could ever hope to weave. Just one glance at it though, and a person knew it was hand made. No machine or magic could duplicate this artistry.

“It’s beautiful!” The boy raised the bracelet and examined it.

“Yes it is, and the Fearun make things to last. That bracelet will never wear out. Not even in your lifetime.” The boy looked away from her at this, but she drew his eyes back to her as she continued, “I want you to have it.”

The boy gasped as he looked up at his great-grandmother, “But you said the Fearun only gave these to their friends. I’ve never even met one before.”

“I did, but my friend said it would be alright if I gave this to you. I hope that one day you’ll be able to meet him.”

“I hope so too,” The boy murmured.

“Alright, times up!” A much younger woman walked into the room. She was wearing the uniform of a servant but had the bearing of someone used to be obeyed. “Brandon, it’s time to go.”

“Are you sure you want me to have this?” The boy asked, ignoring the other woman for the moment.

The older woman nodded, “I’m sure. Just promise me you’ll remember the story.”

“I’ll remember,” Brandon promised. He hugged the woman as tight as he could without hurting her, and then clambered down off the bed. “Agatha, look what Grandma Gwen gave me!” He showed the younger woman the bracelet, which he had already put on. Alistair was happy to see that there was plenty of extra bracelet left dangling. Hopefully, there would be enough so that when the boy grew up, he could still wear it comfortably.

“Yes, yes, very nice.” The boy’s nurse babbled. She took him by the shoulders and steered him out of the room, and even though he was also taller than she was, he allowed her to do so. “We’ve got to get going or we’re going to miss your step-father’s party.”

“Tell him that I’m sorry I can’t make it,” The older woman called after them.

“Don’t you worry about that at all, madam,” The younger woman turned to bow reverently. “He’s going to try and come over sometime tomorrow.”

“Well I’d love to see him.”

“And he’ll love seeing you. Alright Brandon, tell your grandmother goodbye.”

“Goodbye Grandma Gwen, I love you.”

“I love you too Brandon,” The older woman smiled.

With that the young woman and the boy left the room.

Alistair and the older woman sat in silence for a few minutes to make sure that the others were not coming back.

“Thank you, Alistair,” the old woman spoke after some time.

Alistair stood up. He took a running jump and leapt off the wooden shelf. The Fearun grabbed the edges of his cloak and hooked his boots into the buckled straps on its hem as he did so. The air caught in his cloak and he glided across the room. Anyone who did not know what they were looking at would simply think that a dead leaf was falling to the floor. Alistair landed lightly on the pillow next to the woman’s head. She turned and laid on her side so that she could see him better, as Alistair kneeled down on his knees to face her.

“I mean it,” she spoke again, much quieter this time. Alistair could see the glassy weariness in her eyes this close to her face. “This means a lot to me.”

“I know,” Alistair spoke loudly enough that she could hear him. “That is why I did it. I cannot guarantee that I or any other fearun will ever meet him again though, or that I will speak to him if I do.”

“That’s okay,” the woman’s eyes were no longer focused on Alistair. “I asked more of you than I should have, but you didn’t hesitate.”

“I am your friend,” Alistair replied with a smile. “Maybe one day I can be friends with him too.” Alistair smiled as he watched his friend’s eyes start to droop. She slept most of the time lately, and Brandon’s visit had tired her out.

“Thank you, Alistair, tell your son I said goodbye,” she whispered as she fell asleep.

“I will. Goodbye Gwen, and as always, you are welcome.”

Alistair waited until she was breathing slowly and steadily. The Fearun sighed as he stood up. He would not be making this trip again. This was his last goodbye to Gwen. Alistair had never told Gwen the main reason the Fearun avoided humans. Fearun were solitary creatures. However, when they did form friendships, they were deep and powerful. Fearun lived so much longer than humans did, that forming a friendship with a human was simply inviting pain into one’s life.

Alistair smiled through his tears as he glided down from the woman’s room in the castle tower. Sometimes that pain was worth it.

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Planetary Magick: 2

(Twisted wonderland x reader)

Masterlist

_______________________

Unedited

“Yeah…charming.” Apparently, by ‘charm,’ the headmaster meant ‘dilapidated and might have asbestos.’

An old Iron fence surrounded the perimeter, the bars mangled and twisted, as if something rammed into it over and over at each possible section of fence. You could only hope that whatever did that was no longer here. Unsurprisingly, the fencing was rusted in many places and had dead vines draped around them, no doubt having tried to survive on the fence but to no avail. What stood out as odd to you though, was the gate: it had an intricate design reminiscent of the black skeletal structure of a stained-glass window. Though it was odd to see these graceful curves and patterns on the gate compared to the arrow-headed fencing, it was something else that put you off. The gate itself was in pristine condition—no rust or dents whatsoever. You noticed an old, rusted padlock on the ground nearby, which was most likely used to seat the gate once upon a time, but that only lead to more confusion about why only the gate was so well taken care off.

The grounds themselves were mostly barren, save for a few vertical hedges and some dead trees. The dorm building itself sat atop the small hill and was in pretty bad shape. All the windows had been sloppily boarded up and patches of shingles were missing from all over the roof.

“Right, right,” Crowley brushed off your comment and lead you up the stone stairs towards the dorm. “Please come inside.”

             ‘Maybe it’s not that bad on the inside?’

Scratch that, you felt like the guy on the receiving end of “Sike! That’s the wrong number!” You didn’t think it could get even worse, but the interior proved you wrong. It was a complete mess inside; furniture stained and overturned, firewood and books scattered everywhere, cobwebs and spiderwebs in every nook and cranny, paintings and pictures either crooked on the wall or on the ground. The wallpaper was peeling at the seams with patches missing all over, and one of the wall sconces was completely broken, both the lightbulb and glass cover missing. And while the floorboards looked okay, there was no doubt in your mind that some of them were definitely rotted and would collapse under your weight in a heartbeat.

You turn and blankly stare at the headmaster. Did he really believe these were suitable living conditions? You were almost positive there was mold in this run-down dorm, and who knows which ones pose a threat to you since you’re an alien? “Does OSHA not exist here or something?”

“I’m sorry, but I do not believe I have heard of this ‘oh-shuh,’” Crowley replied, sounding honest.

“The Occupational Safety and Health Administration?” You got a blank look from Crowley. You sighed, “figures…” ‘Note to self: learn how to establish a government-funded fantasy OSHA so you can pile Crowley with violation fines. Or at least threaten him with them so he’ll fix up the damn place.’

“Staying here will at least keep you out of the rain,” he rushed to get his sentences out. Maybe he got nervous when he heard you say ‘safety and health?’ “I’m going back to do more research. Make yourself at home. Don’t go wandering around the school! Goodbye!” With that, Crowley rushed out the door in a hurry.

‘Well fuck. First order of business: cleaning up lest I die of never-ending sneezing fits.’ You were only able to get all the furniture upright before it started to rain, making you lose all focus and run to peak out a window, trying to get a good angle to see the rain, and hopefully lightning, through the boards.

You’ve always loved the sounds of rain and thunder. More importantly, there was finally something normal. Hearing the rain pattering against window and seeing the occasional flashes of lighting in the distance relaxed you. Out of habit, you counted the seconds between the lightning and thunder to estimate how far away it was. You counted eight seconds before you heard the low rumbling of thunder.

You sighed, content, before you remembered, “It’s storming! I can collect storm water!” You ran to the first door you saw and flung it open to see what looked to be a kitchen. Excited to finally get a round of good luck, you searched through the cabinets, grabbing any jars and bowls you could find. You found a total of three glass jars, which you removed the lids from, and two large bowls. You stacked the bowls and placed the jars as best as you could inside the top bowl before heading back out the front door. You walked out from the covered entrance into the rain and placed the containers along the side of the stone path so they wouldn’t be in the way. The rain started to fall heavily, forcing you to run back inside before you were completely drenched. Luckily, the large hooded cloak you wore kept you dry for the most part. You carefully pulled off the partially-singed wet coat and draped it across the back of the rocking chair you righted earlier to dry.

“Hyii! It’s really coming down!”

Startled, you snapped your head to face the direction the voice came from, only to be met with that same bakeneko (monster cat) that tried to incinerate you.

“Gyahaha! You’ve got this stupid look on your face like a spider being attacked by a water gun!” The bakeneko cackled at you. They must have snuck in when you set out the bowls and jars. “I’ll have no trouble sneaking back into school. If you think getting thrown out is gonna make me give up on getting in, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Mm, well good luck little bakeneko. It might help to not set the school on fire,” you gave them some helpful advice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. All that matters is that I get into this school,” the bakeneko brushed off your words. “Afterall, I’m a genius who is destined to be a great magician! I've been waiting for the Ebony Carriage to come pick me up. But... But... Hmph! The Dark Mirror just doesn't have an eye for this. So that's why I came here on my own. Not letting me in would be a loss for the world; humans just don't get it.”

“Well, I have to agree with you on the Dark Mirror part. Afterall, it decided to kidnap me, and I can’t do any of that flash-bang-boom magic you’ve been throwin’ around.” ‘But I can do other magick… I wonder if they have my kind of magick here… I’ll have to do some research later…’

“Wha? You can’t use magic? Pfft! You’re useless!” The bakeneko shrieked as a drop of water fell on him through the ceiling. “So cold! The roof is leaking!” He didn’t move out of the way before another drop hit him. “Fgyaa! It keeps coming! My adorable ear fire is gonna go out at this rate!”

‘Instant karma, bitch.’ You sighed, “I guess I’ll go get one of the bowls.”

“Magic should fix this leak up real quick, but you don’t got any.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can’t make things go boom, I get it. If you’ve got such a problem with the leak, why don’t you fix it yourself, bakeneko?” You said over your shoulder as you walked to the door to collect one of the bowls from outside.

“Huh? Help you? No way! I’m just a regular monster staying in a rainy place. You better get a can of tuna ready before I do any work.”

You shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself.” You felt a drop of water land on your head this time. ‘Looks like I’ll need to get both of the bowls.’ You grabbed your damp cloak from the rocking chair and quickly threw it on before running outside towards the bowls. They had already collected about half a centimeter of storm water, and not wanting to waste it, you poured the contents of the bowls into the closest jar. Sprinting back inside, you first placed the bowls down at your feet so you could quickly peel off your now-soaked cloak and hang it back on the rocking chair. You placed the bowls under what looked to be the worst leaks in the lounge area. ‘I wonder if there’s a cleaning bucket or something in a closet somewhere.’

“Yo, I’m gonna go see if they’ve got a bucket somewhere,” you notified the bakeneko, not getting an answer, as expected.

You peered over into a nearby hallway, suddenly much more nervous as you stared down the long, dark hallway. ‘This feels like a horror game and I hate it.’ You tentatively took a step forward, and then another. You made it about five slow steps in before the floor loudly squeaked under your weight. ‘I just had an interesting thought: Actually, fuck this.’ You spun on your heel with false bravado, your entire body now tense. As you stiffly walked back towards the lounge, you froze in place as you felt the familiar tingle of eyes watching you. ‘Okay. Don’t look back. Just. Just keep walking. Put one foot in front of the other.’

It turns out it didn’t matter if you looked back or not because three ghosts suddenly appeared in front of you. They… didn’t look how you’d expect ghosts to look like. These ones looked more… cartoonish. They weren’t half as scary-looking as some of the monsters you’d seen in Scooby-Doo.

One of the ghosts giggled while the other two spoke, “We haven’t had a guest in so long…” Said one.

“I’m itching for some action,” said the other.

“Yeah, no, I’ll pass. I’ve had enough excitement for one day, thanks,” their completely underwhelming appearance circumvented practically all your initial fear, leaving you with only pure exhaustion. You didn’t have much of a filter in this state, but you didn’t really give two shits about what you said when you were tired anyway.

“Why are you talking to yourself…” the bakeneko walked around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. “Gyaaa! G-g-g-g-ghooosts!”

Looked like someone was afraid of the cartoon ghosts.

“The people living here got scared of us and left,” a ghost explained.

“We’ve been looking for more ghost pals,” another spoke. “How about you guys?”

“Deadass? Fuckin’ go for it.”

The ghosts and bakeneko looked a bit shocked that you blatantly agreed to let them kill you to turn you into a ghost.

“Wow, you guys aren’t up to date on humor, are you?”

The bakeneko was the first to snap out of disbelief and shouted, “Grim, the Great Magician, isn’t scared of some ghosts!”

‘Heh, I ain’t afraid of no ghost.’ You had to mentally remind yourself to not start humming the ghost busters theme.

Grim, as you now learned his name was (you think), spewed more of that bright blue fire, completely missing all of the ghosts.

“Where are you aiming?” The ghosts mocked him and laughed. “Over here, over here!”

“Shoot! Stop disappearing!” Grim uselessly shouted at them and continued to be a living flamethrower.

“My mans, please, stop. At this rate there’ll be no dorm left to keep us dry.”

“Shut up! Don’t try to give me orders!”

“…I’m too tired to deal with this shit anymore. Fine. I’ll get you a can of tuna if you win without burning the house down.” You mumbled the first part before speaking to Grim.

“Wah? Mm, I-I’m a genius. I won’t let one—” Grim tried to keep his stubborn pride but was interrupted by the ghosts’ mocking laughter. “Bunch of cowards, ganging up on us!”

“Two cans. Take it or leave it.”

Your new offer seemed to change Grim’s tune in a heartbeat. “Hey, you! Tell me where the ghosts are!”

“’Kay. On your left,” Grim followed your orders and managed to singe one of the ghosts with his flames.

“I hit it!” Grim shouted, now sounding excited. “Alright, let’s chase them all outta here!”

Cue you shouting directions at Grim and him spewing fire in said directions. In all honesty, it felt like a pokemon battle. Except your pokemon was a talking cat with a holier-than-thou attitude. And you were fighting actual ghosts—not ghost type pokemon—actual previously-living-human ghosts. After a few minutes of Grim burning the ghosts, however that worked, they eventually fled the scene of your would-be murder.

“E-eh? We…won?” Grim spoke with the disbelief of someone who has never won in life before.

“Yup. Good job bakeneko Grim.”

“Ha-heee, that was scar—No, I wasn’t scared at all!” Oh Grim, what caused you to act like your pride is what matters the most? “This is nothing for the Great Grim! How ‘bout that, ghosts? You done?”

“Hey, don’t taunt them, bakeneko. If they come back, I’m not giving you directions.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘bakeneko?’ What’s that even mean?”

“Mm, it’s because you’re like a bakeneko. They’re mononoke, yokai, that resemble cats,” Grim looked ready to protest, but you continued before he had the chance, “and are extremely powerful. If you anger a bakeneko, your chances of getting out alive are slim to none.”

“Hmmph, well, I suppose The Great Grim will allow you to call him by such a title.”

Before you could continue to talk about bakeneko and other mononoke or yokai, Crowley came in through the front door just as you and Grim made it back to the lounge.

“Good evening,” he greeted. “I have graciously brought you supper.” That’s when he noticed Grim beside you. “You’re the monster that ran amuck during the entrance ceremony! I threw you out of the school! What are you doing here?”

“Hmph! I exterminated the ghost problem! Be grateful!” Grim puffed out his chest as he spoke, continuing to act high and mighty.

“Hmm? What do you mean by that?”

“…There were ghosts here that wanted to turn us into ghosts,” you blandly explained to the headmaster.

“Now that you mention it, there were some prankster ghosts living here so students keep away from this dormitory. And that's why it is now empty. I'd forgotten that.”

You half-heartedly glared at the headmaster. ‘Oh, how convenient. You put up the broke alien in a haunted house with killer ghosts that you just so happened to forget about.’

“However, hmmmm…” Crowley either didn’t notice or acknowledge your glare. “For you two to work together to get rid of them.”

“I'm not gonna overlook that "together" comment. They were just standing there watching. And I did this for a can of tuna—Ah! I haven't gotten that tuna yet!” Grim spoke, still holding on tight to that attitude of his.

‘Grim, I swear to whatever deities rule this place that you aren’t gonna get those cans of tuna if you keep up this habit of pushing others down to raise yourself up.’

“I'd like the two of you to show me how you exterminated those ghosts.”

‘Crowley, no—'

“But we already got rid of all the ghosts! Before that: Give. Me. Tuna!” Oh Grim, so we can agree sometimes!

“I shall be the ghosts. If you beat me, I'll give you tuna cans. For I am gracious.”

“Uh, no, wait, Mr. Crowley, please—”

“Now then, Transformation Potion!” Crowley pulled a vial of liquid from his coat and downed it in one go. It didn’t take long for him to become transparent and ghost-like.

“Eeeeeeeh, I don't wanna. This is a pain and I have to team up with them again…” Grim whined.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Bakeneko, maybe if you show him how strong your magic is, he’ll let you be a student.”

“Grrrnnuuu,” Grim grumbled, annoyed. “This is the last time! You absolutely, absolutely have to give me the tuna!”

And you found yourself in a pokemon battle once more; this time, it was you and a bakeneko versus an actual living breathing person that can turn into a ghost.

‘If it’s a pokemon battle, might as well use pokemon rules.’ You pointed at the see-through headmaster, “Grim, bite him!”

“Hah? You really are a stupid human!” Grim shouted and spewed fire instead, though he missed like before.

“Fine, we’ll use your fire, but I’m explaining the pokemon system to you later. On your left!”

Turns out, pokemon battles can get boring when it’s just the same thing over and over again. Eventually, it seemed the effects of the potion wore out and Crowley returned to his usual opaque self.

“Hee-haaa…” Grim was panting, trying to catch his breath. “How 'bout that!”

“I can't believe… There is a person who can command monsters,” Crowley spoke in mild awe mixed with disbelief.

‘…Does this world not have pokemon? Should I?... No, I shouldn’t… but what if—what if I introduced myself as Gary Oak and just… no I can’t do that. I can’t tell people “smell ya later.”’

“Hmmm... Actually, my teacher senses were telling me since the uproar during the entrance ceremony that you have talent as an animal or wild beast trainer.”

‘…This man is really making this a cliché pokemon plot… Is this how it all started? Am I the original trainer!? Nah… Unless—’

“But, no matter how…” Crowley began muttering to himself, to quiet for me to make out.

“Hey, just let him stay here,” you were exhausted at this point and the bakeneko had honestly grown on you some. Plus, you needed him around in order to explain pokemon to him.

“What now? Let a monster live here?” You couldn’t see Crowley’s face behind the mask, but you were sure he was giving you a judging look.

“Well, I mean, he did just show you the magic he’s got, which is a whole lot more than I’ve got, and you’re letting me stay here. So why not let him stay? He still a magician, he’s just, well, in the shape of a cat.”

After a few seconds, Crowley sighed, “It can’t be helped.”

“Funa!? Really?!” Grim’s eyes widened and lit up as bright as his flames.

“However, I can't simply allow someone, let alone a monster, into school who wasn't selected by the Dark Mirror. Also, I can't let you be a freeloader here until you return to your own world.”

“Talk about short-lived joy…”

“Listen until the end,” Crowley then turned to you. “Concerning the fact that your soul was called here, the school has to take responsibility as the owners of the Dark Mirror. For the time being, you'll be permitted to stay in this dormitory for free, but other necessities you will have to provide for yourself.”

‘Uhhh what? I don’t even have my own clothes. How the hell am I supposed to live with no money or ID?’

“Seeing as you have nothing to your name,” he gave a slight chuckle for reasons unknown, “here is my proposition.”

Your mind immediately jumped to all the horror stories you’ve heard of what comes from owing shady people favors. The growing panic must have shown on your face according to Crowley’s next words.

“No need to fret, I'll have you do maintenance and odd jobs around campus. From what I can see, you're pretty decent at cleaning,” he said after glancing around the room. “Would you two like to become the "handyman" of the school? This way you will receive special permission to remain on school grounds. You'll also be able to research going home or study whatever you desire in the library. For I am gracious. However! Only after your work is done.”

“Eeeh!? I'm not okay with that!” Grim complained. “I wanna wear that fancy uniform and be a student!”

“It's fine if you're unsatisifed. I'll simply toss you out again.”

“Ffgnnaa!? I get it! I just have to do it. Just do it!”

“’Kay.”

“Wonderful,” Crowley clapped his hands once in delight of our agreeance. “Then, you two starting tomorrow, endeavor to be the best handyman at Night Raven College!”

“Cool, now that that’s settled, headmaster,” he turned to face you. “I’m, like, about to pass out from pain. I’m covered in bruises and burns, plus my vision is blurry and I can’t focus on anything. My eyes are like a camera lens that twenty children smeared their greasy fingers on. You’re magical in that flashy, immediate results way, right? Doesn’t that mean you or someone else can help me not feel like I want to peel off my skin? It’d be cool for my skin to not burn when I get cleaning solution on it tomorrow.”

“Oh, uh, yes, of course,” Crowley almost seemed sheepish, as if he were embarrassed to have not truly noticed the state you were in until now. “While healing magic is not my forte, it should be enough to heal the wounds you have.”

He pointed his palmed towards you and you watched as it began to glow a pale yellow. Slowly you felt your burns and bruises dull themselves to just faint aches. He kept this up for about a minute before he extinguished his magic and pulled his hand back.

“Now, the worst of your wounds are still be a bit tender, but they should be completely healed after a good night’s rest. So, off you go then; sleep now so you’re ready for work in the morning,” He shooed you off with a hand gesture.

“Thank you, headmaster. C’mon Grim, let’s get going.”

As you and Grim headed up the stairs, the headmaster turned around and walked out of the building. Each step creaked under your weight as you trudged up them. While the pain was all but gone, your fatigue was still all-consuming. You followed Grim down the upper hallway, since it seemed he already picked a room before, probably when you went to find a bucket. You followed him into a room in a similar condition as the rest of the dorm. Across from the door sat a fireplace in the center of the opposite wall, a large mirror mounted above it. There were tall windows stationed on either side of the fireplace, almost as tall as the room itself. Towards the left side was a chair covered by a gray dust-cloth, and on the right sat a simple twin-sized bed. You pulled the duvet off the bed and shook it out, watching as you made a cloud of dust dance in the air. As soon as you placed the comforter back on the bed, Grim jumped up and curled himself up in the center of the bed. You were too tired to do anything about that; you’d just have too try and sleep around him. After shaking any dust off of your pillow, you slid yourself under the covers, one leg dangerously close to sliding off the bed. You fell asleep in record time that night.

.                                          .                                          .

             You had a rather rude awakening the next morning consisting of Grim yelling at you and pawing at your face because the ghosts were back. Streams of blazing blue fire almost singeing your face made this one of your worst morning experiences to date. With a final warning of there being a one-sided prank war, the ghosts phased away.

             “We’ll get rid of you eventually!” Grim shouted after them, but there was nothing but thin air left.

             “C’mon, bakeneko. Let’s go see if there’s any food in the kitchen,” You beckoned Grim with a small wave.

             “Hmph. Fine. But there better be tuna!” Grim said with a harrumph and trotted out the door ahead of you.

             As you went down the stair at the end of the hallway, you saw Crowley standing in the lounge room, waiting for you and Grim.

             “Good morning, you two,” he greeted when he noticed you. “Did you sleep well?”

             “I was sprawled out then fell out the bottom! Just how ramshackle did you let this place get?” Grim shouted, equally as upset about the state of the dorm as you were. “Then the ghosts woke me up, this is the worst!”

             “Like the dead,” was your response.

             “Even though you just got tossed from another world you can still be cheeky, wonderful!” Crowley was as upbeat as ever. “I came to speak to you about your work for today. Today you are to clean the campus, but campus is quite large. Cleaning it all without magic is impossible. So, I'd like you to clean Main Street to the main gate to the library, understood? Please watch Grim closely so he doesn't cause a scene like yesterday.”

             “I’ll try best,” you said and shrugged. You didn’t know what you’d do if Grim went out of control; you’re not fireproof, after all.

             “I'm counting on you. You have permission to have lunch in the school cafeteria. Take care of your work enthusiastically,” and with a flutter of his feathered cape, Crowley took his leave, presumably going back to campus.

“Tsk, no way I'm doing any cleaning,” Grim scrunched his nose at the thought. “I wanna go to class and, bang! Boom boom boom! Use a bunch of awesome spells!” He punched at the air with his ‘booms.’

“How ‘bout we just go to the library after we finish cleaning. Besides, libraries are where they keep all the old forbidden knowledge!” Yeah, under lock and key so no one can read them, but you weren’t about to tell Grim that. “Imagine just how much the other students will revere your power if you master ancient magic!”

“Well, what are you waiting for, human? Let’s get going!”

“Okay but let me collect my storm water first. If I wait too long, it’ll all evaporate.”

“Hmph, fine, but make it quick!”

You quickly jogged over to your bowls and jars that each held a good two inches/five centimeters worth of storm water. You poured all the water you collected into one of the jars before carrying everything back inside. You set them all down on the kitchen counter, then checked the cabinets for a lid to the jar. After finding a lid and sealing the storm water in the corresponding jar, you met back up with Grim in the lounge.

“Alright, let’s get moving.”

“About time,” Grim sauntered off, sass radiating from him with each step.

.                            .                            .

             The campus was bustling with life, students with hair every color of the rainbow going every which way. After a couple minutes of walking towards what you hoped was Main Street, the crowds began to thin out, students having made it to their respective classes. It wasn’t all that hard to find Main Street, seeing as it was the busiest and largest street on campus. What you weren’t expecting was the street to be lined with seven statues of iconic Disney villains.

             ‘I thought… I thought I was supposed to be on another planet or world or something? Why are there Disney Villains? Are you telling me that Walt Disney himself was able to expand his franchise across all of time and space?! And maybe across dimensions and alternate universes too?! Hey Walt? You’re taking it too far, man.’

“Uwaaaah~ Amazing. So, this is Main Street. I didn't get a good look yesterday but what's with these statues? All seven of them look pretty scary. This granny looks especially snobby,” Grim said, making a face at the Queen of Hearts.

“You mean the Queen of Hearts? Yeah, she played croquet with flamingos as the mallets and hedgehogs as the balls. While they were alive. Not cool if you ask me. Or most people. Animal cruelty is bad.”

“Ehh?! Why would this lady do that?” Grim looked appropriately confused.

“Who knows? Besides, the Cheshire cat is way better. A true chaotic neutral, that one.”

“Who’s that? And what does a cat have to do with this granny?”

You were about to answer before you were cut off by a new challenger approaching. “You don’t know about the Queen of Hearts?” They had a boyish appearance with short, messy orange hair and a red heart stamped over their left eye.

‘Actually, we were just about to discuss the Cheshire cat, but go ahead and assume, I guess.’

“You know her too? Is she important?” Grim asked the redhead, his attention easily being grabbed by this newcomer.

 “In the past, she was the queen who lived in the Rose Maze. She was someone who valued rules and discipline above all, strict in all things from the march of the Card Soldiers to the color of rose bushes. It was a land of madness where all submit to her rule. Why you ask? Because or else it was off with your head!” The heart-eye boy monologued with some dramatic flair.

“That's terrifying!” Grim shrieked, probably at the thought of someone chopping his head off.

“It's cool! I like it. Nobody would listen to a queen who's just nice all the time, right?”

‘Uhhhh, that queen is a tyrant, and tyrants are what lead to revolutions so… vive la révolution.’

“I suppose. A strong leader is better.” Oh, Grim, you sweet summer child who doesn’t know the difference between strength and fear.

“By the way, who are you?” Grim asked.

“I'm Ace, a fresh-faced first year. Nice to meetcha~” The boy, Ace, said with a musical lilt.

“I am Grim, a genius who'll become the greatest magician. The dimwit over here is (y/n). They're my henchmen.”

“Bakeneko, don’t you dare put me on the same level as a Scooby-Doo villain’s underling.” You glared at Grim who gave a sheepish chuckle in response.

“You've got an odd sounding name.”

“People from different places have different names. It’s called culture.” You said blandly, trying to cover up your growing anxiety.

Ace shrugged. “I guess. Just never heard your name before.”

“Hey, Ace,” Grim grabbed his attention; you could feel your shoulders sag in relief. “The lion over here with the scar, are they famous?”

Well, Ace seemed to have this handled, and you didn’t need to hear him summarize the Disney villains. Instead, you ignored him and went over to the statue of Hades and looked at him.

‘If this confirms that Hades also exists in this world, does that mean I can work with him? I know many witches back on Earth work with Greek deities, with Hades and Persephone usually being the best of them to work with. Hmm… I’ll have to do some more research.’

You then crouched down to read the stone plaque engraved in Hades’ pedestal. The large plaque read: “The lord of the underworld and guide to the wandering souls of the dead. He carried out his fearsome duties with diligence and care, m…ing even the de…t to offer their aid.” Some words had eroded away, becoming mostly unintelligible sans a few letters.* You tried to make out those two unknown words, tracing your fingers around the grooves in hopes that just maybe you’ll be able to figure out enough of the letters to piece the word together.

“No matter how long you stare at it, you’re not gonna get anything out of that, y’know,” Ace said from behind you.

You sighed and stood up, your momentary reprieve from your anxiety over. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to check.” The plaque didn’t have any information you didn’t already know, except for maybe the words you didn’t know.

“Anyway,” Ace cleared his throat, “He's the Lord of the Underworld! He rules a land crawling with evil spirit on his own. No doubt he is extremely skilled. Even though he's got a scary face, he did that detestable job without ever taking a vacation, and his sincerity won over Cerberus, the Hydra, even the Titans, to fight for him.”

“Hmmm, Hmmm. So having talent doesn't mean you get to be haughty.” Grim hummed in thought.

‘Oh, my sweet tiny bakeneko, you’re learning about manners; I’m so proud.’

“And the last one, with the horns?”

‘Oh hell yeah, Maleficent! We stan an absolute queen. Besides, who doesn’t love dragons?’

“That is the Witch of Thorns from the Magic Mountains,” Ace said, addressing Maleficent with a title rather than her name. “Noble and elegant, even within the Seven, she is top class in magic and curses! She can summon lightning and storms, cover an entire country in thorns; her magic is on a whole other level. There was even a time she transformed into a huge dragon!”

“Oooh! A dragon! All monsters look up to them!” Grim shouted excitedly.

“They're all so cool~” Ace spoke, almost dreamily, before his tone did a 180 and turned snide. “…Unlike a certain raccoon.”

“Pfft... Ahaha! I can't bear it anymore! Ahahahaha!” Ace broke out into laughter. “Aren't you the guys who went crazy at the entrance ceremony? You were summoned by the Dark Mirror even though you can't use magic, and you, a monster, weren't called but still trespassed. Yeahhh, it took everything I had not to lose it at the ceremony.”

“Whaaa!? You're a rude one!” Grim fumed, his ear fire growing in size.

             You just stood there and narrowed your gaze, your anger and anxiety fighting each other for full reign. Anxiety won out in the end, keeping you silent when met with his jabs.

“And now you aren't allowed in and got regulated to be a janitor? Haha, how lame,” Ace continued mocking the both of you.

             ‘It’s not like I had a choice in the matter…’ You clenched your jaw while Grim growled. You could feeling the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, beginning to rise.

“On top of that, you don't even know about the Great Seven,” Ace just didn’t know when to stop. “How ignorant can you be? As I recommend you go back to kindergarten before coming to Night Raven College.”

             Grim’s growls got louder as Ace continued. You, on the other hand, couldn’t bring yourself to speak and defend either of you. You felt your throat begin to close up.

“I thought I'd just mess with you a bit, but you really blew my expectations away. Unlike you two, I actually have classes to attend. Keep this school squeaky clean, you two~” He gave you a patronizing wave before turning on his heel and sauntering away.

“This jerk! He's just gonna say that and leave! I'm ticked off!” Grim opened his mouth wide.

“Wait, don’t—” You weren’t fast enough to stop Grim from using flamethrower, for a lack of better terms, on Ace.

“Oh! Watch out! What're you doing!?” Ace angrily yelled at Grim, having just barely dodged in time.

“It's what you get for making fun of me! I'm going light up that fire-head of yours!” Grim matched Ace’s volume.

“Fire-head, huh? Heeeeee. You've really got guts picking a fight with me. I'll turn you into a puffy, little toy-poodle!”

             Grim spewed more flames at Ace’s threat.

             ‘Nope, fuck this. Fuck this. I can’t breathe, dammit!’ You hid behind the nearest statue, which happened to be Maleficent, and kneeled on the ground, trying to steady yourself and calm down enough for your throat to reopen. You bent over to rest your head on the cool grass, closing your eyes and covering your ears, trying to block out the sources of your near attack. You focused on the feel of the grass against your forehead, feeling the separations between the different blades. They were still a bit damp from the morning dew. The more you distracted yourself from the thought of Ace: stressor of the century, the more your throat relaxed and allowed you to draw breath normally once more. You jumped when a shriek pierced through your ears, completely bypassing your hand barriers and reversing all the progress you made towards calming down. Worried that the shriek meant someone got hurt, you jumped out from behind the statue. Instead of someone being hurt, to your relief (you weren’t excited about being an accomplice to assault), the Queen of Hearts’ statue was blackened.

“Crap! The Queen of Hearts' statue is charred!” Ace yelled, the dread on his face matching the shriek you just heard from him.

             “It's because you're blowing the fire around! Just let me fry you!” Grim shouted back at him.

“You really think someone is just gonna let you fry them?”

“Enough!!! Just what is going on here!” The voice of Crowley boomed at the three of you, making you flinch.

‘…Fuck,’ looks like you’re not going to be able to avoid an anxiety attack after all.

             “Guh! Headmaster,” Ace went rigid.

“He's going to tie us up with the 'lash of love'!” Grim yelled. “Get outta here!”

             Though they tried to run, both were caught by Crowley’s whip, foiling their escape plans and making them both yelp in pain.

“Hurts just as much the second day in a row!” Grim whined.

“This is my Lash of Love!” Crowley was furious, and it seemed like he wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon. “It'll be another hundred years before you can outrun me! I told you just yesterday to 'not cause any trouble', didn't I? Then you go and char the statues of the Great Seven!” He directed his words at Grim before turning to Ace. “I very much would like to see you expelled.”

“Wait! Not that!”

“And you,” Crowley looked at you, making you freeze in place. “This is not how you supervise Grim.”

             You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, unable to gather the breath to form a single word. How could you talk when you were struggling to even breathe?

“My goodness,” Crowley huffed in indignation before turning to Ace. “You, what's your grade and name?”

             “Ace Trappola, first year.”

“Then, Trappola, Grim, and (y/n), as punishment, I order the three of you to wash 100 windows around campus!”

“Nyaaa!? It's all cause this joker was making fun of us!” Grim protested, his fur standing on end to make him look bigger and more intimidating. It didn’t work.

“Eeeh!? Me too?” Ace looked at the headmaster in disbelief.

“Most definitely! After school, meet in the cafeteria. Understood?”

“Fiiine…”

“Nothing but misery since yesterday!” Grim complained.

Soon, both Crowley and Ace left, and you felt your body slump in relief, your knees buckling under you.

“Wha—hey, human! What’re you doing?” Grim ran up to you, genuinely confused.

You held up a finger to say ‘gimme a minute’ while you caught your breath. “Sorry…Grim…” you said after a minute, panting between words.

“Why are you out of breath? It’s not like you were running or anything.”

“This…this just happens… sometimes…” you shifted from kneeling to sitting cross-legged, leaning against the statue of Maleficent behind you. “I’m not very good with yelling… or with people, for that matter.”

“Hmmm,” Grim hummed in thought. “You humans are weird.”

You gave a soft chuckle at that, “that we are, Grim. That we are.” The two of you sat there in silence for a minute or two as your attack gradually faded away. “Hey Grim? I have a proposition for you.”

“Hah? What do you mean human?”

“What if we skipped lunch so we can make Ace suffer a bit?”

“Heee! Now you’re talkin’ my language!” Grim grinned widely, showing of his shark-like teeth.

      *That was all I could make out from the plaque you can see in the seven statues background image.

 A/N: Life’s been pretty shit recently hasn’t it.

[bastsoldtrollblog]

Kairos trudged through the snow, head bowed against the howling wind, cursing themselves for forgetting how bitter the weather was out here. Of course, they used to love these raging blizzards...When they were out of the wind, in the safety of their castle.

At least their new ‘lusus’ seemed to know the way. She trudged on, pressed almost to the ground, and Kairos had to keep close watch on her tail to make sure they didn’t lose sight of her.

Getting the time off work for this excursion was difficult, but in order to delve again into the art of necromancy, they needed their old research. If it were even still intact; Those rebels might have destroyed everything.

Still, even if it were all gone they had their reasons for paying their old hive a visit. The treasury, for starters. They could live a bit more luxuriously- Not that they had much of an eye for it, anymore- With the help of the copious amount of relics and gold artifacts from there. At the very least they wouldn’t have to worry about rent.

The rest was just nostalgia. Seeing if their original lusus was still around, so on and so forth.

They had all but stumbled through the castle gates by the time they realized they’d even reached their home. The blizzard had created full white-out conditions, and they could scarcely see a few feet in front of them.

They heard their lusus call from somewhere ahead, and trudged through the large courtyard to the safety of the entrance hall.

Immediately, they realized the castle had not been left derelict. Torches were lit inside, and they didn’t immediately see any signs of disrepair. They caught sight of their lusus slipping away down one of the halls and, judging by the fact that she wasn’t calling after them or trying to drag them along, they assumed she did not want them to follow.

They drew a dagger in favor of their sword- Too unwieldy if they came upon a foe suddenly- And proceeded with caution.

They made a beeline for their main study first. This was no longer a casual jaunt down memory lane; This was practically home invasion.

They immediately saw that the study had been rearranged and many books were missing off the shelves. They hastily began searching, though they were unsure exactly of what they were looking for. They’d written far too many research notes to take everything, so they needed things pertaining specifically to necromancy. At least they still recalled their organization system, not that it wasn’t in complete disarray.

They weren’t finding any of their research notes at all, related to necromancy or not. They found plenty of books on magic, their personal journals, but none of their notes.

“Dad?”

A voice called down the hall outside the study. Kairos grit their teeth, mentally cursing and backing away. They pressed their back against the wall behind the open doors, waiting. Footsteps padded along the thick carpet down the hall. Kairos heard him stop in front of the open study doors. His breathing sounded shallow, tense. They could sense his trepidation. Their grip tightened on their dagger as they estimated exactly where he was, what path he would take into the study- How easily they could land a surprise attack and gain the upper hand.

The troll took a few cautious steps in, and then moved further ahead, heading towards the desk apparently without looking behind the doors.

Kairos lunged, grabbing one arm, twisting it behind his back, and pressing their dagger to the troll’s throat. Kairos had seen a hint of fuchsia fin, which meant they couldn’t easily overpower him.

“Be still, or I’ll slit your throat.” They hissed, when the troll attempted to struggle. He froze, taking a few moments to gauge the situation, and then made a demand.

“What do you want??”

“My research. Where is it.”

“What?”

“I wrote many notes on various schools of magic, that were kept in this study. Where are they.”

The troll hesitated, and Kairos pressed the dagger closer to his throat. They could sense this troll’s magic; He had to know what they were talking about.

“I-Is your name- Kairos?”

“So you’ve read them. Where are they.”

“H-Hey- Listen! I’m your descendant! Ramira Mikari!”

“I have no descendants.” Kairos hissed, but glanced up to the troll’s horns. Sure enough, they matched their own, minus the icicles. That didn’t mean Kairos was about to let him go.

“Just look at my horns! We share a name!”

“A sibling, perhaps, but not a descendant. My research, Ramira.” Kairos pressed the blade hard enough to draw blood.

“It’s in my room!”

“The master bedroom?”

“The one next to it...”

Kairos paused. They couldn’t just bind his arms and leave him; He could easily get free with a spell. They relaxed, letting him go, and Ramira darted forward out of their grasp, rubbing his throat.

“Christ,” hissed Ramira. “I thought you’d be kind of a dick, but...”

“Ah, for once I am not a disappointment.”

Kairos stepped back out of the study, turning and stalking down the hall- Only to come face-to-face with a snow leopard. A glance at the eyes confirmed it was neither their current lusus nor their original one, but related all the same.

The leopard meowed at them and sat down. They hesitantly reached out, and then gave the leopard a pat on the head when it seemed to consent.

“Did you have a snow leopard lusus too?” Ramira had followed them out of the study.

“Yes. Is he around?”

“Uh...This is the only snow leopard I’ve seen. I found the body of one in, uh, I think the master bedroom.”

Kairos furrowed their brow, and continued onwards past the leopard. “What did you do with it?”

“I put it in the catacombs.”

Kairos hummed in response. Ramira followed them all the way to the master bedroom, though Kairos stopped and walked right into the room next to it that Ramira had claimed as his own.

Ah. That was definitely a heap of their research notes. Kairos immediately began digging through it; It wasn’t even remotely organized. They were surprised Ramira wasn’t more aggressive towards them, all things considered, but apparently he wasn’t too willing to attack his sibling.

“If you aren’t my ancestor, then who is?”

“Cataclysm, likely. There are books on him in the ancillary study.”

“Oh. Haven’t really looked through that one, yet. What was he like?”

“Do you think I know?”

Ramira put up his hands defensively, making a face and looking away. “Okay, okay. Sheesh.”

“I put a knife to your throat and you still see fit to bombard me with questions?” Kairos hissed.

“You didn’t kill me, so...”

“I am starting to think I should have.”

Ramira backed away a few steps. And then decided to ask another question. “What are you looking for?”

“My studies on necromancy.”

“There’s one on the desk.”

Kairos looked over towards the desk, and then resumed digging through the pile. Ramira cautiously approached, sitting down on the other side of the pile and starting to sort. “Sorry. I should’ve organized this sooner.”

Kairos hummed in response again. By the end of it they had four of their research notes on necromancy, including the one that had been on the desk, and a fifth book they had grabbed on their studies of their own magical ability. That might hold some insight on their current, uncontrollable state.

Shoving the books into their backpack, Kairos stood and began making their way towards the catacombs.

“Hey- Listen- Can we just talk? For a second?”

“About what?”

Kairos stopped, rounding on Ramira, who also stopped dead and faltered.

“Um- Well- We’re related, and all. We’re both mages. And you lived here a while. There’s gotta be...Something you can tell me.”

“There no doubt is. However, I do not care nor do I have the time to share it. Learn on your own. There is nothing I could tell you that is not already contained here.”

“Jesus christ, are you always like this?”

“Yes.” Kairos turned and continued onwards. Ramira apparently thought twice about following, but still ultimately did so. At least he followed in silence.

The already-freezing temperature dropped as they descended the stairs leading to the catacombs. The air shifted, and with it came a horrible crawling sensation. It felt as though the air itself were writhing, heavy and toxic. The stones themselves seemed to be twisting in agony.

This place was cursed, sickening, unfit for life, and still Kairos pressed on.

“Can you at least tell me what the fuck is up with this place? Why is it like this?” Ramira said, finally. At least he had the sense to keep his voice low- And even then, a shriek echoed from some distant depth in the catacombs in response. “Jesus-” Started Ramira, stumbling a few steps back. Kairos ignored it.

“Our dear ancestor trapped the souls of his most detested enemies here. Being a highly successful conqueror, his enemies were many.”

“What was that scream??”

“A banshee, perhaps. Or one of the many twisted souls here.”

Kairos reached the treasury- Kept on the same level of the catacombs to deter ordinary thieves, who could scarcely set foot below the castle without being overcome with fear. They dumped their backback on the ground and began filling what space remained with treasure.

“Seriously??”

“This is as much my inheritance as it is yours.”

“Yeah, but...Jeeze, have some dignity.”

Kairos just scoffed, and once they’d gathered a decent amount, they straightened. Ramira seemed about ready to book it, nervously glancing over his shoulder as though something might come creeping up behind him.

“Show me to the snow leopard you brought here.”

Ramira rubbed his arms anxiously, and then turned to lead Kairos into the catacombs.

He hadn’t brought the corpse far, just into the next room where there was an empty slat in the wall. Kairos scooped the frozen corpse out, glancing towards a half-frozen zombie that had noticed them and was attempting to shamble towards them.

Ramira was bristling with fear. Kairos snorted and moved to carry the leopard’s corpse out.

“Please. It couldn’t bite you even if you let it,” they said, brushing past Ramira.

“This is fucking scary! Don’t tell me you can’t feel it!”

“I can, likely moreso than you. I spent much time down here, however.”

“So you were a necromancer?”

“To some extent. I studied many things.” Though they couldn’t deny that they had a particular interest in death and the beyond.

Kairos carried the leopard’s corpse to one of their old workrooms by the study; This, it seemed, had been untouched. They cleared a table and set down the corpse. Ramira had followed them the entire way.

“Can you light these sconces?” Asked Kairos, picking up an old tool from a tray.

“Can’t you?” Ramira said, still moving to light them anyway.

“My magic is all but useless.”

Ramira looked to them, confused, but Kairos didn’t care to elaborate. Their surgical tools were ruined, unfortunately, and they had to wait around for the corpse to thaw before they could handle it.

They opted to check the eyes first. They were half rotted, but Kairos still recognized the iris’ pattern.

It was their lusus, without a doubt.

Not that they were surprised.

They stayed for two nights to handle the corpse. Ramira- Or Mira, as he preferred to be called- Came and bothered them a few times, pestered them with questions, but ultimately did his best to be helpful. Not that he couldn’t do much; It turned out he was almost as useless as Kairos when it came to magic.

By the end of their stay, Kairos had the bones and fur of their lusus in a duffel bag provided by Mira. The bones were badly cleaned, but that was fine; They at least had something to bring back to Eirene.

As Kairos stepped towards the kitchen portal that lead to a nearby town, Mira spoke up. “Are you going to come back?”

“Likely not.”

“...Can I have your number?”

“...Fine.”

Kairos stopped to enter their phone number into Mira’s phone, and paused as they handed it back. “Do not rapid-fire text or call me.”

“I’m not that much of an asshole, jeeze...”

“You’ve been doing the physical version of it for the past two nights.”

“I have not!”

Kairos didn’t care to argue. They turned to step onto the teleportation circle, before stopping again. “One more thing. My lusus; How did you find him?”

“Uh...He was curled up on the bed. Almost like he were sleeping.”

Kairos narrowed their eyes, and then stepped onto the teleportation circle, vanishing in an instant.

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 129 Thoughts

This month: More people screaming and dying.

Next month: Probably more people screaming and dying.

Eventually: Just a whole heck of a lot of screaming.

(Not dying because there will be no more people.

They will be dead.)

Sooooooooooooooo.

Uh.

This chapter has people screaming and dying in it.

As well as the continuing strangeness of actively rooting for Reiner and Annie.

Ayep.

Ding-dong, Magath is dead?

Yet again, we land on the problem of a chapter that is largely self-explanatory, and the perhaps deeper problem of people committing themselves to doing a thing once a month, even if they’re not sure they’re able to do said thing. There’s good stuff here, I’m just hesitant to start talking about it lest it comes out like a random spew of instantly forgettable bullet points.

Since I don’t care, I guess we’ll start with Magath dying.

I don’t care. Moving on!

Theo Magath is a man who has always cared for the children under his command. Even though they’re Eldian, he has routinely gone above the expected amount of effort in securing their safety. He is the one who worries and waits for Reiner, Annie, Bertolt, and Marcel to come home. He is the one who destroys the worst of the military he’s a part of so they can stop depending on titans. He cares.

What a fucking bastard.

Keith Shadis dies with him. After a life of trying to make himself special, putting lives at risk every step of the way, he finds an appropriate time to make his exit. He’s the one who raises every fighter out in the port. He’s the one who has watched as the other instructors kill them so that they can find the ones strong enough to make the cut.

He’s the one who picks Eren up and brings him back to his bed after he inherits his father’s burden.

One thing I do think is important to note, whenever I’m inspired to say, ‘Fuck Marley,’ is that Paradis is not great.

Paradis has child soldiers too. They’re just slightly older.

Paradis fully expects their soldiers to go out and die too. Their consent just skates through needing air quotes.

Paradis has a corrupt government run by self-interest -- until they have a coup.

Magath’s job, his entire career, has been to make the most of the enslaved Eldian lives he’s been handed on a platter. It is his job to train children up to murder people. If they are not good enough at murder, they will be fed to other children.

Shadis feels more comfortable. He’s been a reasonable authority figure for most of the manga, with his worst crimes being in his past, and even that reveal coming with a greater show of humanity than any other displayed that night. He tries to run Eren out of the military before he destroys himself. He worries for the boy, and gives a voice to the struggle of trying to be special when you’re most gifted at fucking up.

Paradis’ military, at the start of the main plot, gets its recruits via shaming teenagers into being willing to die, or starving teenagers into being willing to die.

The primary difference between it and Marley’s system is that in that section of the totem pole, the oppression level is relatively neutral. The wall systems are kind of fucked, the nobility is kind of awful -- but like. Their last genocide was what, two years ago? And it was killing poor people, not people people.

Everyone in Paradis’ military has to deal with the fact that they’re in a shrinking safe space and they’re either going to starve, or monsters are going to eat them. That is the great equalizing force. If their commanding officer fucks up, he is going to get eaten. If the person next to them fucks up, they are going to get eaten.

They are not crouching down, approaching tiny children, and explaining that it is for the good of humanity that they are the ones eaten because their blood is dirty. Anymore.

Fuck Marley. Fuck its internment camps, fuck its slavery, fuck its brainwashing, fuck how it turned Good Eldians and Bad Eldians into war rhetoric. Fuck just about everything it has to offer.

Paradis is fucked up in the spirit of everyone there being equally fucked (unless you’re rich) (or nobility). Marley is fucked up because it’s made being fascist, warmongering assholes a national policy.

So you have two men on a boat waiting to die. They’ve both sent children to their deaths. They’ve both pushed over the lines trying to let their uniqueness carry change instead of doing the difficult legwork it actually takes.

One of them is not an active agent of genocide.

One of them is.

They both have sad feelings.

It is sad.

The important part is however badly they fucked up, the traumatized children they’re leaving behind are about to be more traumatized, and they’ve realized what a bad thing this is.

Only not really because Keith did his job, did his first job badly enough to find a new job, did that new job, and has continued doing that new job up to the point where he’s blowing himself up, and has no particular qualms about any of that since he’s pretty much been acting his conscience the whole time.

I’m lingering on this because you have both people who trained up our primary cast making a choice for the good of humanity, and dying the same way. It is a clear and obvious parallel, and it is being milked.

But it’s one of those parallels that makes me twitchy the longer I look at it. Probably because of that conscience part. These men play the same role, but besides their stages having massive differences, their choices do as well.

Magath’s conscience doesn’t stop him from shouting racist rhetoric at a preteen on a battlefield. In his introductory scene.

Shadis’ conscience, however warped some of the intent is, leads to him quitting and passing his job up to someone more qualified.

...Essentially, Shadis is kind of a bastard for a lot of things, but Magath is a fascist bastard, and continues to be a fascist bastard even when he takes steps to overthrow a fascist regime, and I know and appreciate that Magath realizes this and feels bad about it, but it’s hard not to resent the manga comparing Shadis and Magath so strongly.

Magath’s fucked up a lot. It’s good he admits it.

Shadis feels like one more person who sees death as all he has to offer the world.

In a series that actively opposes that line of thought whenever it comes up, it’s really difficult not to find the whole dynamic frustrating. Yes, the manga doesn’t say these two people are the same. They’re just in the exact same boat making the exact same decision.

Like that other group over in their boat.

Shadis is looking to die. Magath is looking to make a last stand.

I don’t think I’m doing a great job of putting into words why it’s so aggravating for me, except, you know. Fuck Marley. Also Magath helped cause all of this. Keith’s sort of sat around feeling various forms of guilt for years over things he screwed up because he was trying so hard.

Shadis forfeits his life.

Every other time someone with that mindset is ready to die, it’s met with no, you’re not done yet.

Shadis doesn’t get that. He’s done. Magath is the only one there to tell him otherwise, and Magath has his own problems.

There’s a vibe here that these two old teachers have outlived their purpose. Their kids are grown, for better and worse, and they’re the ones who will control the turn of the future. I don’t oppose them making that decision, but in Shadis’ case, it really comes off as him being cool with whatever, now that he’s made his stand.

Ugh. I don’t like it, but articulating why is probably best represented by me sulking and crossing my arms. Artistically, I get it. They’re the same piece on opposite ends of a chessboard.

But they’re different people and aaaargh.

Anyway, we continue the proud tradition of making Gabi cry.

Sorry about your life, Gabi.

In other news, we continue to not have any way to stop Eren.

Like.

At all.

We have an estimate of four days before Eren succeeds in wiping out a continent.

Their only chance of stopping that is powering up an airship, using some of that good ol’ talk-no-jutsu, or killing Eren.

If they take the route of killing Eren, all of the Colossals he’s been ordering on their walk will stop being under his command. Because he will be dead. Meaning that the continent, as well as our heroes, will now have to contend with a wild hoard of Colossal Titans out for a stroll.

Which is bad.

It’s basically where Paradis started out, but worse in every possible way.

Even if they manage to have someone on their team eat Eren, there’s a good chance that OG Ymir might not react well to her savior being axed. There’s a similarly good chance that the ability to use the Founder’s power just won’t be functional.

So if they kill Eren, they will stop having intentional destruction.

Instead, we will have unintentional destruction, of which there will be a lot.

Leaving us with talk-no-jutsu.

When the last attempt at talk-no-jutsu led to Armin punching Eren and being bad at it. And Eren punching Armin and being less bad at it.

Basically, everyone’s really hoping that by communicating with Eren, they can somehow make this all go away. There is no evidence that this will work, and no evidence that any of the added backup plans will do anything but cause different problems, but by golly, they’ve completed step .5 of their 3-step plan to maybe changing their circumstances.

(Step 1: Get Air Boat Step 2: Fly Air Boat To Eren Step 3: Talk Eren Out Of Genocide)

BOY I SURE AM HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS PUTTERING ALONG WITH THAT FORWARD PROGRESS. WHAT CHAMPS. GOOD FOR YOU.

YOU’RE STILL FUCKED.

I AM SO HAPPY THAT WE ARE SPENDING ALL THIS TIME ON A PLAN THAT DOES NOT SOLVE THE FUNDAMENTAL PROBLEM OF HOW COMPLETELY FUCKED YOU ALL ARE.

IT IS NICE THAT YOU ALL FEEL LIKE YOU ARE CONTRIBUTING USEFUL THINGS TO YOUR SOCIETY. YOU DO YOU.

YOU ARE NOT ACTUALLY HELPING.

BUT MORE OF YOUR FRIENDS ARE DEAD FOR A GOOD CAUSE.

I’m not upset, I would just really like all of this to feel meaningful. Right now there’s a ridiculous amount of stress and dead bodies going into a goal that could easily end up pointless.

There’s merit to that as a story, but none of that stress lands properly, because the tension of “will they save the day or won’t they” isn’t dependent on what they’re doing here. The ticking clock might be making the characters stressed, but it’s not where the consequences lie.

I will continue to complain about this every month because I can.

In more positive news, Connie is best boi and no one appreciates him they way that they should.

Once upon a time, Reiner bullied Annie into taking a more active role in murdering Marco.

One of the arguments he used to provoke her was that she saved Connie’s life.

Not long after that, Reiner and some other recruits find themselves stranded in Utgard Castle, where a titan gets in and goes after Connie. Reiner charges in, gets his arm chomped on, and through everyone’s combined efforts, the titan gets shoved out a window.

Annie and Reiner both make the choice to save Connie’s life, even though it does nothing to benefit them.

In this chapter, beheaded and missing their arms, Connie swoops in and saves both of them.

The first taste of this technically goes to Mikasa, because she can’t help being a hero. She doesn’t like Annie. Annie is about the only human being whose existence can make her lose her temper. When a soldier gets behind Annie, Mikasa is there to back her up. It’s done casually and smoothly, because Mikasa’s just that good.

We’re still left with multiple shots of Annie staring at Mikasa.

Later followed with her staring at Reiner.

Annie and Reiner are used to being the traitors. They’re the ones their friends have every reason to hate. They’re the ones who spend years living with the victims of a war they brought to their shores. They’ve never expected forgiveness. They’re condemned, and almost welcome it.

Their trio interplay is never great. Reiner is trying too hard, and shielding Bertolt. Annie gets stuck with the grunt work, and knows they’re the bad guys. They don’t get along. They’re comrades, and allies, but their friendship is never portrayed as anything but their last lifeline.

Reiner and Bertolt are friends.

Annie’s the only one who has her fight with the Survey Corps alone.

This time, Reiner’s there, and he’s protecting her.

If you dig into any combination of these relationships, there’s not exactly a shortage of rot. They’ve all hurt each other, and they all know it.

But at the end of the day, they’re all just a bunch of damaged kids looking to be found.

None of the surviving cast is without a shoulder to lean on. They’ve made the decision to be there for each other, and as bleak as circumstances are, Annie’s face spends so much time this chapter shouting that she’s never been able to have that.

Even Magath, who goes off with the intent of dying alone, doesn’t.

There’s still some human warmth left in the world, and that’s what they’re trying to protect.

Please just do it with an actual plan, I’m begging you guys.

Also, Floch gets shot! So that’s nice.

I do not see a corpse.

That is less nice.

Isayama also gave Falco a fucking birdsona titan.

We’re not without things to cheer.

Tune in next month for more screaming and dead bodies.