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

[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.

[m34gs]

Another Saw AU ask!

This time it is the housewardens (and the dorms) up for evaluation as Saw Apprentices! Please tell me on a scale from 1 star (lowest) to 5 stars (most) where the dorms rank on the following categories:

1. Professional Conduct/Mannerisms

2. Organization/Punctuality

3. How well they uphold the Ideals of the Job

4. How they contribute to a positive work environment

Hi friend!!! Another Saw AU ask! Thank you! This will be so fun to answer, I am putting so much thought into it!!! For those unfamiliar, my friend @kimium and I have a Twisted Wonderland Sort of Saw Franchise AU. See my pinned post for links to other posts regarding it and our AO3 series!

I'm so excited for this ask! Sorry it took so long, I've had a lot going on this week...but I'm here now! (Answers under a cut because this will be LONG lol!)

Heartslaybul

1. Professional Conduct/Mannerisms: 4 stars. Riddle, of course, is always on top of his game and courteous. Cater is no slouch either, when it comes to actually impressing other people with his manners. He's pretty good at putting on masks, after all. It's Ace and Deuce who need a little *reminder* once in a while on how to act and conduct themselves.

2. Organization/Punctuality: 5 stars. Mostly because of Riddle. He is always on time and his traps tend to run closest to their estimated run times. The rest of Heartslaybul is also punctual, lest they be hit with Riddle's signature spell.

3. How well they uphold the Ideals of the Job: 3 stars. While Riddle is definitely here for the Justice aspect of it, the others are a little...less good at upholding the ideals. Deuce is really just there because the boss (Riddle) is, and because he likes being able to work closely with Ace. Cater...well Cater's true ideals are as of yet undiscussed but you *know* he probably doesn't fully buy into the "appreciate your life and change for the better" lesson John says they're giving people.

4. How they contribute to a positive work environment: 4 stars. Riddle would obviously do his best to ensure rules are followed but also that appropriate break times/measures are also instated. Cater is picking up the rest with his bubbly persona and making an effort to make sure everyone has something at the workplace to smile about. It may be a dusty old warehouse or abandoned workshop, or any other number of derelict places, but Cater's gonna make sure his friends have a little happiness in their days. Ace mostly complains, rather than trying to make the workplace better (Ace would like to point out he should not be blamed for this as they are literally murdering people and so he does not think putting up decorations and eating fancy dinners together completely offsets that vibe) and his whining often gets him in a scuffle with Deuce (they may be dating but they fight like an old married couple) which does bring down the workplace vibe a little bit and thus keeps them from achieving 5 stars.

Savanaclaw

1. Professional Conduct/Mannerisms: 3 stars. Leona's attitude and outward demeanor detract from the rating. However, Ruggie works his ass off to get the job done and get it done *right*, and Jack doesn't like acting what he views as rude. The efforts of the two of them earn them the 3 stars.

2. Organization/Punctuality: 5 stars. Despite how he often skips classes to nap and doesn't seem to really care about meeting deadlines or being on time, I believe Leona can be pretty punctual when he needs to. He wouldn't be so good at Spell Drive if he didn't have at least some sense of timing and punctuality. I also think that, despite him still thinking John is bat-shit fucking crazy, Leona prioritizes punctuality for the trap because it CANNOT interfere with his daily life and responsibilities as a prince, so as to not garner suspicion. Ruggie is also very punctual, since he often works many jobs and would never allow himself to be docked pay for being late if he could help it. And Jack would consider showing up late to be rude and disrespectful, so of course you know he would strive to be on time. John doesn't really have an issue with any of them regarding punctuality, and the traps are pretty organized in order to ensure they don't mess with Leona's life.

3. How well they uphold the Ideals of the Job: 1 star. Leona doesn't give a shit about John's ideology, he thinks he's fucking crazy. The main motivation for him is to go along with it to protect his own (Ruggie, Jack, Yuu, Grim, himself, etc.). We all know Ruggie would do anything for money, but John isn't paying them. Leona is (as per the murder fic for their dorm) but he's only doing that to make sure Ruggie is on board and therefore safe from John. I also think Ruggie would get a bit too vindictive at times, which is again not the ideology John is trying to "teach". Jack tries but he has a hard time stomaching a lot of things.

4. How they contribute to a positive work environment: 2 stars. Let's face it, they're not exactly enthused to be doing these little projects. The 2 stars comes from Jack's attitude and respect. Ruggie and Leona do not contribute. (Ruggie would like to argue he makes the environment very positive. Jack tells him they are being evaluated on the actual work, not the sex afterward...)

Octavinelle

1. Professional Conduct/Mannerisms: 5 stars. If there's one thing these boys know from running a restaurant chain, it's professionalism. Even Floyd can play along, if he feels it suits his interests. And he finds this work very interesting.

2. Organization/Punctuality: 4 stars. Jade and Azul are always on time and ready to go. And, let's be real, Azul has his traps planned to death and back again, with multiple back-up plans for any possible issues he can think of. Floyd is hit-or-miss, depending on his moods. He shows up relatively punctually the majority of the time, but if something grabs his attention...good luck getting him to show up at all.

3. How well they uphold the Ideals of the Job: 3 stars. See, for the most part they do it right, targeting people who "deserve" it and using it to protect their restaurant and staff; an arguably noble cause. But then, there's the fact that Jade's motivations also stem from wanting to see what would happen. He's the type of person to put someone in a death trap just to see what would happen. While that curiousity is not completely out of line with John's teachings, Jade's sadistic enjoyment from it is. Everyone knows Floyd just does what he finds interesting and fun. He doesn't feel overly attached to making the victims have a "change of heart" or "learn something". He prefers when they suffer and die. (this is why he's not allowed to do traps by himself. Azul and Jade both know he'd likely get bored or angry and just kill the person himself. And that would land them in a little bit of hot water with John, which they'd rather avoid).

4. How they contribute to a positive work environment: 4 stars. Overall, Jade and Floyd have a pretty positive attitude when working on traps. Once in a while, Floyd gets restless and distressed or distracted and starts messing with things or throwing fits. However, given the nature of the work, it doesn't take much to pull him out of that mood. Azul is really the one where they lose points here. As much as he makes sure proper body mechanics are being used so as not to wreck their backs and cause injury, and puts in all sorts of safeties for their group to make sure they don't get injured while on the job, his work habits follow him even here. He doesn't take breaks when he should, worries and stresses over every little piece of the plan, and basically continues to be a workaholic.

Scarabia

1. Professional Conduct/Mannerisms: 5 stars. Kalim is the oldest son of a wealthy merchant. You better believe he knows how to be professional and cordial in a work environment. His attitude may be described as "casual" by some, but in reality it's more "welcoming", which bodes very well for professionalism. Jamil is professional in a different way. He would lean more toward the formal and polite side of it. Neither way is necessarily wrong. John enjoys talking with both of them and discussing their traps with them.

2. Organization/Punctuality: 3 stars. Kalim's downfall is that he can be a bit scatter-brained. I do think he'd be a bit more organized after having graduated, but I don't think his old habits would go away entirely. Jamil is the one who keeps their plans neatly documented in folders and binders and makes sure they have all the supplies they need. I would also like to point out that it is harder for Kalim to participate in this part because he really doesn't enjoy the murder part, so he tries as much as possible not to think about it ahead of time.

3. How well they uphold the Ideals of the Job: 3 stars again. This time, it's Kalim pulling the weight. Kalim is the one who sees this less as something he wants to do and more as something he needs to do. It's a responsibility. He wants the world to be a better place and if this is a way to make that happen, he will try. Jamil is where they lose points. Jamil is the one who would create the inescapable traps. He sees it more as a way to hand down judgement and punishment on "deserving" people, rather than a way to teach them.

4. How they contribute to a positive work environment: 4 stars. As solemn as the job is for Kalim, and as vindictive as Jamil can be, the two of them try to have a rather positive workplace. Kalim always makes sure they take lots of breaks, so as not to get exhausted emotionally or physically, and Jamil always has many snacks prepared. The one star they get removed is because Jamil can get a little self-righteous and go on rants at times, which kind of detracts from the atmosphere.

Pomefiore

1. Professional Conduct/Mannerisms: 5 stars. Vil is the epitome of professionalism. He will allow nothing less in all that he does. Epel sometimes grumbles about needing to be so concerned over how they conduct themselves when putting people in murder traps, but he begrudgingly goes with it, dress code and all. (Vil makes them wear clothes suited to the job. He has issues with the robes and masks, but he understands the logic behind the disguise and agrees that it is not something anyone would expect Vil Schoenheit to be caught dead in, and so it makes a very good part of his alibi).

2. Organization/Punctuality: 5 stars. They are never late. Vil will not hear of it. Epel came close One(1) time, and Vil lectured for a full thirty minutes after they finished with the trap. In all honesty, Vil really can't afford to have things running late. He has a very busy, very public life. He can't afford any suspicions. His traps are planned down to the minute, with a small window of cushion time to allow if things go wrong.

3. How well they uphold the Ideals of the Job: 4 stars. Vil, much like Kalim, sees this less as something he really wants to do and more as a solemn responsibility. Rook finds there to be beauty in giving people a chance to change, and there is beauty in desperation and what people are willing to do to live. Epel sits in the corner and questions if Vil and Rook are actually ok or if they need some therapy (they do, but like so does all of the Twisted Wonderland cast). Epel is the one who doesn't fully buy John's ideology. However, he is respectful to John (his granny would kill him if she heard otherwise) and they have many discussions about right and wrong, so John finds he cannot dock too many points based on Epel's attitude.

4. How they contribute to a positive work environment: 4 stars. Vil does his best to make sure they have scheduled breaks and enough time to complete the traps without causing injury to themselves. Rook tends to light up the workplace with his mannerisms, and I like to think he brings in art to their various workplaces because a beautiful workplace can be inspiring and good for the soul, or so he says. He would also be the type to come up with all sorts of activities and exercises for team-building in the workplace. Epel is the one most likely to be pouty or moody or be an unwilling participant in whatever workplace bonding activities Rook comes up with.

Ignihyde

1. Professional Conduct/Mannerisms: 1 star. Listen. Idia's idea of "professionalism" for this job is wearing pants when he monitors the trap from the comfort of his basement, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he chews on some gummy worms. The 1 star is because Ortho is always polite and well-polished when he interacts with John and when the trap is running.

2. Organization/Punctuality: 5 stars. Idia isn't playing around. He would never let a trap interfere with the important things in his life (playing video games, defeating bosses, participating in limited-time events for his mobile games, etc.). He's gonna make sure his traps are set up and start and end on time. And, he's more organized than he looks when it comes to tech. His workrooms and everything may seem chaotic, but he knows where everything is and has his traps planned out to every little detail. Each trap is like a challenge, and he does like showing off.

3. How well they uphold the Ideals of the Job: 2 stars. While Idia and Ortho do make sure to trap people who follow John's criteria for victims, Idia is more in it for the challenge of building the traps and Ortho is mostly in it because his brother is (though he doesn't mind getting revenge on people who piss them off...)

4. How they contribute to a positive work environment: 3 stars. Ortho is very positive and charismatic and charming in the work environment. Idia doesn't talk to anyone aside from Ortho unless he absolutely has to contact John, and even then it's usually via emails and rarely in person. Idia's also not exactly known for scheduling appropriate break times. He tends to get very wrapped up in watching his tech and making notes on what to improve and seeing if the victim can beat them...he often doesn't take breaks for hours at a time, depending on the trap's runtime. (Idia would like to point out in response to this evaluation that the workplace is VERY positive for him. "Nii-san. Please leave your computer, it's been six hours," Ortho begs in response.)

Diasomnia

1. Professional Conduct/Mannerisms: 5 stars. Malleus is a prince. He has been taught manners and how to conduct himself in a regal way since he was young. Lilia used to be a general. He knows how to behave professionally in the workplace. Sebek and Silver both feel they should maintain professional demeanor, as retainers to Malleus. John doesn't always understand all their mannerisms, but he does chalk most of that up to them being Fae and likely having different rules than humans, and he finds they are always polite and cordial so he really has no problem with their conduct.

2. Organization/Punctuality: 4 stars. Sometimes, Malleus gets lost in his own world (he is a Fae, after all, so his concept of time is very different at times). However, Lilia can find him most times and with his teleportation it is easy to be there relatively close to on-time. The rest of them are usually on time.

3. How well they uphold the Ideals of the Job: 3 stars. While Malleus does see this as an opportunity to make the world a safer place for Yuu, he also sees this as a way to sate some of his curiousity about humans. That's not *exactly* what John was going for, but he'll take what he can get. The rest of Diasomnia is basically there because Malleus is. They're not as interested in the actual work. Sebek tries to understand and follow John's teachings because Malleus seems to find them interesting, but I think his main motivation is still more about Malleus than the actual ideals John is trying to impart. Lilia is mostly there to be a bit of impulse control for Malleus, let's face it. And Silver feels he should be there out of duty to Malleus. So, really, Malleus (and sometimes Sebek) is the only one who sort of tries to follow John's ideals.

4. How they contribute to a positive work environment: 4 stars. They do their best. Lilia brings a lot of positivity and fun to the workplace to keep it stress-free. However, when Silver tests out parts for the traps, it drives him a little up the wall and he has to leave the workplace. The rest of the time, though, the workplace is rather positive and relatively relaxed as they plan the trap and set it up.

There you go! The evaluations of the dorms as Jigsaw Apprentices!! Hope you enjoyed my answers, this was a very fun ask!

[sweetsweetloverlover]

fuck my entire baka worklife

[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.

[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.

[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

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"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.

[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]

[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.

[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.

[karliahs]

prompt: someone in 1-A finds a stray cat and tries to hide it with them in class, Aizawa finds out

The ‘how to secretly bring three kittens to class without Aizawa noticing’ meeting lasts for several hours, and produces mostly bad ideas. 

“We could bribe him?” Ashido muses. She’s laying down, holding one of the kittens up above her head, hands spread wide to give it a little obstacle course to walk over.

“What would Aizawa even do with money?” Uraraka wonders. “He wears the same clothes all the time, lives here at UA and I’ve only ever seen him eat jelly packets…”

“We also don’t have money,” Tsuyu points out. “We can’t bribe him with something we don’t have.”

“What do we have? Something we have a lot of…” Uraraka says, staring into the black kitten’s eyes like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“Cats,” Todoroki answers, staring solemnly at the smallest black-and-white kitten currently chewing on his finger.

…

Discarded plans include one of them faking sick to stay home with the cats - regrettably, their group is divided into people who care too much about class to skip (everyone but Ashido), and people who would almost certainly be suspected of malingering if they suddenly claimed to be sick (Ashido). 

Further discarded plans involve invoking more allies among the class. Uraraka rules out her friends due to either a habit of mumbling secrets aloud, or being too much of a stickler for rules. Ashido cheerfully discards all of her friends for being “unreliable in basically every way possible.” Ashido also argues against involving Kouda, the most useful member of the class for this particular problem, unless absolutely necessary - “the guy has no poker face! Aizawa gives him one harsh look and he’ll crack like an egg.”

Todoroki listens to these arguments in silence. “Right now there are three cats to a ratio of four people,” he says. “Any more, and we all get less time per cat.”

“That’s not a very heroic attitude, Todoroki,” Tsuyu points out.

Todoroki continues scritching his favourite kitten’s chin, the black one with white feet, mentally dubbed ‘boots cat’ - there had been a sub-meeting about naming the kittens, which determined it would be too heartbreaking to do this until they were reasonably sure they weren’t going to be made to give them away tomorrow. “It’s just math,” he adds softly. 

This puts an end to the allies plan.

…

“Tsu, what’s wrong with your eyes?”

“I’m allergic to cat hair, kero,” Tsuyu answers.

Uraraka stares at her. Tsuyu stares back, while continuing to pet the cat. Uraraka gives up.

“I mean,” Ashido says, “cats aren’t that noticeable, right? Don’t they sleep a bunch?”

“Cats sleep a lot,” Tsuyu says. “Kittens don’t.” 

Ashido makes a noise of frustration, lapsing back into thought. “The ceiling in our classroom is pretty high,” she pipes up eventually. “Maybe…Aizawa wouldn’t notice if we just…” She gestures to Uraraka’s hands.

“We are not levitating the cats,” Uraraka says. She tilts her head, considering. “We are not levitating the cats, unless we really can’t think of a better plan.”

…

“Three cats together need a lot of space,” Todoroki says. “But one cat on its own doesn’t need as much. Maybe we should be thinking of plans to hide all of them separately instead of together.”

“Divide and conquer,” Tsuyu says thoughtfully.

“That seems like taking one problem we don’t know how to solve, and making it three problems we don’t know how to solve,” Uraraka says.

“Hey, the cats are not problems,” Ashido says. “Life is the problem. Life, UA, society, taking us away from the things that truly matter.”

They ponder this wisdom while observing the cats. The black cat is gently licking the black-and-white cat’s ear.

“I’m sorry I called you problems,” Uraraka says solemnly. The boots-cat hiccups.

…

Divide and conquer is still the best idea in play when they give up, around 1am. This means that the next day, Uraraka, Todoroki and Ashido are each enacting their own plans to hide a kitten during morning classes. Tsuyu had designated herself operational support, and also in charge of creating distractions.

Uraraka is a strong believer that if you do something nonchalantly enough, 99% of people won’t question it. So, her plan is to take her books out of her backpack, place them inside her desk, and then also place the kitten inside, swiftly and with confidence.

Unfortunately for her, Bakugou is the 1%. “That’s a fucking cat,” he says. “You have a fucking cat. What the hell, Round Face?”

Several other classmates look over in shock. There’s a brief moment of silence, during which Todoroki’s backpack meows. Aizawa strides in just before the bell rings, the sudden noise sending Ashido’s kitten leaping out of her bag and running across the room.

“Should have levitated them,” Todoroki murmurs.

…

“Man, don’t you have a class to teach?” Mic asks.

“My class are capable of feeding themselves,” Aizawa says, expressionless. “These cats aren’t. Therefore, they take priority.”

The cat-harborors, plus cats, plus Aizawa, had decamped to the staff room, where Aizawa was feeding the kittens while the others sat around trying to look suitably apologetic. Aizawa had made a couple of attempts to begin lecturing them for smuggling multiple live animals into class, and each time had been swiftly distracted by kittens.

“Eraser!” Mic objects. “You can’t tell your kids they’re less important than cats!”

“It’s okay,” Uraraka says. “I’m pretty sure we all agree that these cats are the most important thing in the world right now.” The circle in general nods.

Silent cat petting ensues. “Did it ever occur to you to take them to a shelter?” Aizawa asks.

“Yeah,” Uraraka says. “Kinda? We didn’t talk about it, necessarily, but…”

“We need this,” Ashido interrupts. She looks solemn, by her standards, even if there is currently a kitten curled up in her folded arms, batting at her bracelets. “Like, I know no one would say we need cats to live, but man, life is hard, and we need these tiny beautiful cats! And their tiny beautiful feet!”

Todoroki silently lifts his sleeping kitten’s paw, demonstrating the tininess.

Aizawa sighs, but against all odds, he doesn’t seem to have an actual argument against this.

“At the beginning of the year,” Tsuyu interjects, “you said UA gives teachers a lot of discretion in how you run your classes.” She pauses, meaningfully. “Does that discretion extend to class pets?”

Aizawa stares intently at Tsuyu, objectively frowning, but Tsuyu has the distinct impression that his estimation of her has gone up by several points. 

“Eraser,” Mic says. “You know I hate to be the voice of reason, but would the old man really let you keep three cats at UA?” Mic stares off into the middle distance, briefly entranced. “Would he?”

“It’s debatable,” Aizawa adds. They’ve rarely seen him look so thoughtful. “There isn’t enough data to be sure.”

“Is that…a yes?” Ashido asks incredulously.

Aizawa shifts his gaze to her, no less intense for the kitten playing in his shirt sleeves. “You’ve yet to convince me you four are capable of caring for even one cat, let alone three kittens.”

“So if we do convince you,” Todoroki asks, “then you’ll let us keep the cats?”

Aizawa glares at everyone in the room except the cats for a solid three seconds. 

“Come to Eraserhead’s class,” Mic muses into the silence. “You have a 70% higher chance of being expelled, but you also have three cats?”

Aizawa doesn’t dignify this with a response. “There will be a class,” he says, “on taking care of cats of various ages. It will not be fun. There will be tests.” His glare softens as he looks down at the kitten now curled around his left hand, seemingly opting to have her daily five minutes of sleep now. “If enough of you pass, and the principal okays it, the cats can live at the dorms.”

“Oh my god,” Ashido says, eyes shining. “This is the best day of my human life. I’ve never been so pumped to take a test!”

Todoroki holds his kitten up, cradled gently in the palms of his hands. A tiny, warm smile spreads across his face. “Now we can give them names.”

[isnt-it-pretty]

A The Queen’s Gambit inspired Sylvix fic I’ve had sitting in my drafts forever. Figured I may as well post the WIP!

TW for substance abuse, and generally everything terrible from both FE3H and from The Queen’s Gambit.

The room is silent. Hundreds of people wait with baited breath as two of the world's leading chess players fight across a wooden board. The pieces are lacquered - hand carved. Only the best for the players in Enbarr.

Sylvain studies the board, picking out his response to his opponents play several steps ahead. It's already the second day - five long hours the night previous left them both exhausted. Sylvain barely remembered to eat before crashing for 13 hours.

His opponent lifts a piece, his rook, and moves it forward. It's a clever strategy, but it won't be enough. The man across from him knows it too - he's twice Sylvain's age, but desperately trying to keep up.

They see it at the same time. A single move, and it'll be finished. There won't be a way for his opponent to come back from it. If he moves his bishop, it'll all be over. His opponent will resign, and Sylvain will be the youngest world champion at 22 years old.

It's his turn, he stares at the piece, his brain ticking into overdrive. It would be so easy, just to move to pieces. But then what? What else does Sylvain have but chess? He has no friends, has a family only in name. The media hates him, a stark contrast to being the Darling of the chess world at seven years old.

One move. And he'll win. He'll prove Miklan wrong, prove the media — his former friends, wrong.

He should have drank more before coming.

His hand is reaching for his king before he even realizes it - the words leaving his lip of their own accord. It feels right.

"I resign."

He knocks over his king, the hall is silent in shock.

Sylvain gets up, doesn't even bother shaking his opponents hand, and walks out.

...

He stops by his room with a single mindedness. His phone is going crazy, but Sylvain hasn't checked to see who is trying to reach him.

Everybody, probably.

His mother must be having an aneurysm, the media must be going insane.

He opens the door to his room and tosses the phone on the bed. His wallet too, but not before emptying out his cash as a tip for hotel staff. $500 total.

It's barely anything compared to his sizable room service charges - which is probably the cost of his room twice over. It's all paid for, he never leaves debt at a hotel.

There's an untouched bottle of whiskey on top of his mini bar. Expensive in beautiful glass. He hasn't touched it, preferring cheap straight liquor. Just because he can afford expensive drinks doesn't mean he bothers with it. He stops noticing the taste soon enough anyway.

He doesn't bother getting changed as he grabs the whiskey and heads out of the room. Somebody will come bother him if he stays there, and he doesn't want to be disturbed. Doesn't want to think.

Sylvain just threw the biggest match of his life, yet he can't bring himself to care.

The roof access is unlocked, which really should be a case for concern. Anybody with a key card could enter the stairwell and climb to the roof of the hotel - 5 stars and twelve floors. He can see all of Enbarr from up here. The twinkling of its lights remain unperturbed despite his actions. 

There's a railing about a foot from the edge. Sylvain ducks under it easily, and sits with his legs dangling downward. Nobody will be able to see him from the ground. Just a spec in the darkness looming above their heads.

He uncorks the glass crystal stopper and drinks.

...

Glenn loved chess. He was pretty good at it, too. It was something he and their father used to do together. Felix would sit on his dad’s lap and try to reach for the pieces. By the time he was six, most of the set had baby sized teeth marks engorged into them

Felix never had the patience for it, personally. He never wanted to study moves or games, never wanted to sit quietly and practice it. He preferred to run around, rolling in the dirt and mud with his friends.

It didn’t stop Felix from being enthralled every time he watched his other brother play.

There was a finesse to it. A certain wisdom that Felix could never quite grasp as Glenn carefully moved the pieces. He was better than their father by ten, and was competing in chess competitions by eleven.

Felix went to every one of his games.

Even now, so many years later, Felix can remember the magic of that first game. He was seven, following behind his dad like a little duckling, his hand grasped tightly in Glenn’s. There were plastic tables with chess sets on them lining the hall of the old community centre, but Glenn didn’t care. He was ecstatic to be there. The joy didn’t fade, even after Glenn lost the second to last game.

A year later they were watching TV. There was a chess special on.

That was the first time he saw Sylvain Gautier. 

Ten years old, the boy was already the darling of the chess world. His smiling was dazzling. The interviewer was asking generic questions, what was it like competing against adults, does he see chess in his future, etc etc. The answers came so naturally Felix thought the boy may have been magic.

After that interview, Glenn found every source he could about the boy. He replayed all of Sylvain’s games, tried to puzzle through the choices that were made, and why. Tried to figure out if there was a specific style to his play, something that could be used to trip him up.

In the end, there was nothing.

Two years later, Felix accompanied Glenn to a small competition in Fhirdiahd. Dimitri and Ingrid went along, if only to provide support. Both Ingrid and Dimitri were shaping up to be pretty good chess players themselves, but even working together they still couldn’t hold a candle to Glenn.

The competition was held in a high school gym. Rodrigue dropped them off and said he’d pick them up after.

It was a shock to everybody when Sylvain Gautier showed up to play.

Felix remembered seeing him walk up to the people running check in. Remembered seeing two college age students choke. Sylvain didn’t even smile at them. Didn’t even remove his sunglasses. 

He just said his name like everybody in the building didn’t know who he was, picked up a sheet to track his moves, and went into the gym. 

Even years later, it was probably the most surreal experience of Felix’s life.

Glenn won every game, ascended through the ranks just like Felix knew he would, until he was sitting across from a celebrity of the chess world. 

Sylvain was twelve at the time, but even that seemed so much older to Felix, who was small even for a ten year old.

Glenn smiled and held out his hand. Sylvain shook it, and they played.

As expected, Glenn lost. Dramatically, in fact, but Glenn didn’t mind. He was fifteen, was planning on what to do when he graduated high school in a few years. He enjoyed chess, but he simply didn’t have to love or dedication to play professionally, or the natural born talent. Their dad always said that the best chess players had a mix of both.

Sylvain flashed Glenn a smile, a little different from the one Felix had seen on TV interviews and magazine covers. Suddenly, it hit him. Sylvain had seemed bored in every game he played, but not Glenn’s.

"You're pretty good," he told Glenn when it was all over. 21 moves total - it was savage. “Did you study Loog’s games?” 

Glenn lit up. “I did! I, um, studied your games a lot too. I figured it may be a good counter to your strategy.” He looked over the board, over his dramatic loss. “Guess that didn’t pan out.”

Sylvain just shrugged. “You’re not the first to try it, don’t worry about it.” He checked his phone, typed something, and slipped it back into a pocket with a sigh. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. Good to meet you Glenn...”

“Fraldarius,” Glenn answered, a little flustered. Felix knew he’d never hear the end of this day.

“Fraldarius,” Sylvain said. He shot Felix a smile too, before heading out of the building.

In the end, Glenn got the prize money - apparently Sylvain insisted. Said Glenn likely would have won, if he hadn't shown up.

Felix was only ten, but he found himself following everything Sylvain did after that.

...

The first time Sylvain played chess, he was five years old. Small and prone to illness, he wasn’t allowed to go outside like other kids his age. Instead Sylvain was kept indoors, where it was safe and controlled. He spent several days a month ill in bed, wrapped in soft blankets as nannies brought him juice and borth. His childhood was marked by books and quiet toys, things he could do without bothering people, or over exerting himself.

One day his tutor, an older gentleman named Mr. Hanneman, took out the chess board in some lesson or another. He said it would be a good way to pass the time. It was quiet, thought provoking, and could be played from a sickbed, as Sylvain so often found himself.

Miklan, seven years older and already pissed at the world, barely paid attention to the rules, but Sylvain was enthralled. The chess pieces were beautiful, they all had rules about how they could move and act - just like him. 

He took up the game with a single minded focus, wanting to know everything about it. He got Mr. Hanneman to bring him books and help him read them. Days which before had passed in a boring feverish haze were instead spent reading chess books, or replaying famous games.

By the time he was six, Sylvain was playing eleven board simultaneous games and winning all of them. He started competing soon afterward.

His parents were thrilled. It was the only time they'd ever bothered paying attention to him. Whenever he won, they’d make time to go out for dinner, or watch a movie with him. His mother read him stories at night. It felt good. So he kept playing, kept hoping they would keep gracing him with small smiles at his wins. Kept chasing the feeling of affection.

Other people, he came to find out, were just like chess pieces too.

In chess, one can estimate an outcome to a specific move. Can anticipate a reaction, and have a response already prepared. People are much the same.

He learned to read situations and people, how to act a specific way to get the outcome he thought would be most desirable. It didn’t always go his way, but like chess, it often did. He learned to smile; dazzle crowds and interviewers. His poor health was a well kept secret.

By eight years old, Sylvain Jose Gautier was a renowned name within the chess world. A prodigy. A future Grandmaster. He was on the cover of almost every chess magazine at least once, and was invited for photo ops with professionals. 

Miklan hated it of course. He tried to play chess, desperately wanting what Sylvain had, but he was never very good. He got even more angry, and when angry, he lashed out. Sylvain was an easy target. 

Sylvain never told his parents, but he knew that they were already aware. There was simply nothing that could be done without impacting the family. So he dealt with it, learned how to sleep to not aggravate bruises, learned to make himself silent, a shadow in his home.

It wasn’t hard, his parents did always like a puppet for a child.

[angstidote]

Shadowbringers Theory Time

FFXIV 5.2 spoilers below the cut, but like, THE IMPLICATIONS !!!

This is totally just a theory, but I feel like I have a good idea of what caused the end of Amaurot in the first place, the why of Zodiark and Hydaelyn, how the WoL is not in fact tempered as has been implied, why Emet-Selch felt justified in extending his faith to us, what Elidibus is working at with this seemingly empowering angle, and what we can expect to see in the upcoming story arc.

It’s a lot, I know, but hear me out:

So like, first off we know now that “the defector” was not part of summoning Zodiark OR Hydaelyn, and we’re pretty sure we were the defector because in Hythlodeus’s speech about that person, the gender of the 14th changes with your gender–implying he’s likely speaking of us. This means that WE were not necessarily tempered by Hydaelyn, because we were likely not there for her summoning in the first place:

We knew why the original convocation created Zodiark–to stop the world from self-destructing. But they have not yet explained why it was falling apart in the first place.

I’m seriously wondering if somewhere along the way someone realized that the source of the problem was the Amaurotians themselves. After all, we know that magic takes aether, and that the Amaurotians were crazy powerful mages. To not have made this connection themselves is totally unrealistic, given how advanced they were with regard to their knowledge of magic.

My theory is that they realized they were responsible, but no one wanted to admit that they were at fault. Or more than that, no one wanted to, well, stop using magic, so they started grasping at straws for what to do…and Zodiark was one such attempt. By giving the planet a will of its own they hoped that IT would moderate them as necessary, no muss no fuss.

However, to summon Zodiark took a tremendous amount of aether as we know, and after that he basically demanded that the Amaurotians pay the cost of any further large magic expenditures. My feeling is that they gave the star a will, but did so specifically so it would save itself. We know how sensitive creation magic was, so surely someone wrote this intention into it–but they probably didn’t realize what that implied for those who lived on the planet. Accordingly, it willed that people stop using its magic, and die en masse if that’s what it took.

We see only a part of the ancient ones’ conversation, but it seems like they knew this. If Zodiark stayed, eventually he was either going to kill everyone directly or allow them to kill themselves by sacrificing themselves for every expenditure:

Now, as for Emet-Selch–he made it seem like whatever was causing the end of days was a mystery, but he was one of the convocation members and he would have at least heard evidence for why Zodiark would and wouldn’t work.

It could be that the council had other reasons to believe Zodiark wouldn’t fix the problem–but considering Emet’s obvious and understandable adoration for his lost people, I’m wondering if perhaps time changed his perceptions of how the sacrificing of half the population went down in the first place.

It may not have been quite as voluntary as he remembers it–especially considering the populations of the 14 dimensions are made of the same souls as the ones who lived in Amaurot! He said as much himself. But given what we’ve seen in the comparison between us and Aldelbert, souls tend to live out their natural tendencies no matter how many times they’re rejoined. As the WoL we’re nearly half our original strength thanks to all the rejoinings, but Adelbert ran the same endless errand chains and then sacrificed everything just as we would, even though he had only 1/14th of our soul in him. This tells us that souls behave like themselves no matter how strong or weak they are.

By Emet’s estimation, the fragmented incarnations are weak and selfish and scared, but I’d put money on the fact that they were like that to begin with, and here’s why:

This was the theme of this whole expansion: selfless acts may be remembered as selfish. And I’m thinking this is likely a set up for the reverse being true as well (since all of Shadowbringers has been about the importance of understanding the other side of the story): that selfish acts can get mis-remembered as more selfless than they were.

Emet lauded the selflessness of Amaurotians being willing to sacrifice one half their community to save the other half. But if they were somehow to blame for what was happening–due to how much aether they were depleting from the earth itself by using their creation magics so much–their sacrifice may have been necessary just to stem the depletion causing the chaos.

Which is why Hydaelyn may have manifested the way she did. They probably realized that Zodiark got accidentally made to save himself at any cost, so they had to create a will of the planet that cared about its populace as much or more, to keep him in check. But knowing the source of the problem, they had to make her able to kill both birds with the same stone. By splitting everything up as she did, she both stemmed Zodiark’s power and also dramatically reduced everyone else’s power as well, which stopped the hemorrhaging of energy without everyone having to pay for it with their lives.

Note the distinct need for a permanent solution. 

It sounds to me like they knew they would be dis-empowering everyone by summoning her. That everyone would be split into pieces and forced into the reincarnation cycle. Yet they seemed to feel like it was the only choice, given the circumstances–circumstances that Emet may have omitted from his 12,000 year old memory bank due to his conflicting desires to both save everyone and serve Zodiark faithfully.

Ultimately, it’s likely that he extended his olive branch to the WoL because he knew we were not involved in summoning Zodiark OR Hydaelyn, and that we genuinely cared about people no matter who they were--like he did. It’s implied that we were on good terms or even close to him before the sundering. But while we didn’t think Zodiark was a good plan, he went with it because he was desperate to save everyone. Just like Adelbert, he was manipulated into making a horrible mistake because his love was so blinding he couldn’t see what he was doing. That’s why he was able to convince you as Adelbert, and why he knew you (”that soul”) were worth trying to win over. He knew we were capable of hearing him (Adelbert already had) and of giving him a chance when no one else could. 

Again, we see the idea that because love was the motivating factor for the crime, his selfish acts got mis-remembered by him as more selfless than they were. Instead of recognizing that Zodiark killed half the population, he just blindly believed on some level that they made the sacrifice voluntarily. And I’m sure this will come up in the story again because we already see it happening with all the guards of the Crystarium quitting “to be helpful” when it’s actually the opposite of helpful, because it leaves the city unguarded.

But back on the topic of Emet, he’s incredibly sympathetic to the scions--both eventually eliciting their respect as the story progressed, and subtly supporting them (for example, by bringing Y’shitola back from the life stream). You can tell he genuinely wants to see eye to eye, and not just for the purpose of manipulation. But as a result of his tempering he’s ultimately unable to separate his will from Zodiark’s. This made him the enemy of the Scions and ostensibly the WoL as well, something which has clearly tormented him ever since (after all, he clearly tried to make it work, as “he had children with us, grew old and died with us,” etc.) and has driven him to endlessly try to rejoin everything so we would all be on the same page again.

But in the end we couldn’t go with Zodiark for the same reason we couldn’t go with the idea in the first place–which is probably why he flew into a rage and remembered us as our Amaurotian selves. But despite this, Emet still died having placed his hopes for the future on us…his hopes that we would honor the lives that were lost in the ancients’ misguided attempts to save everyone. And I think this is significant because it tells us that on some level his love for his people overpowered his tempering.

Elidibus remarks that Emet didn’t have the stomach to do what was necessary to follow through on Zodiark’s orders. I suspect that Elidibus is indeed the Oracle of Darkness and equivalent in rank to Oracle Minfilia, and that as a result he agrees unyieldingly with Zodiark that people are the problem and are therefore irrelevant. Emet, on the other hand, did not feel this way. And though he was unable to act in opposition to Zodiark--having been tempered by him--it’s pretty clear that the only reason he supported summoning Zodiark at all was the one implied in his memories--he loved the people of Amaurot and wanted to save them. This is why all his memories of Amaurot are favorable, all the people kind and considerate and lovely...because that’s how he always perceived them. But this created a permanent splintering of his loyalties (which is tragic but cool in the sense that the title of Angel of Truth/Emet-Selch is associated with the sign Gemini).

Sorry, I got off topic there but I just really love Emet-Selch.

Anyway, as for the ancients we saw in the Anamnesis Anyder…I gotta assume we were looking at The Scions 1.0. Particularly with Venat being linked as Minfilia because of this little bit of data:

…and we know who consistently looks the same in all her incarnations on the first: the Oracle of Light. She’s probably talking to Thancred there, since he implores that anyone but her do it, then accepts her will even though he’s sad about it, which is…like, the story of Thancred’s life, the poor dude.

But I mean, what we’re seeing with Elidibus wandering around as Adelbert seems to be a new approach. To put it simply, if everyone awakens to their original power, they’ll all start draining the shards just as they did with the Source. Ultimately, this will bring about the same calamities everyone faced back in Amaurot and once again people will look for a savior…and maybe, just maybe, we’ll get the whole Zodiark thing this time (doubtful, bro, but you do you). After all, blind desire to help is exactly how he got created in the first place.

In the end, we may all find ourselves repeating the forgotten history.

This expansion is so freakin’ elegant. I’m just obsessed!

[cianmars]

Tony died only he didn’t really, while he’s ‘dead’ his family has his funeral, where his sons have no idea they’re holding out for a hero miracle

Actual summary 

Pepper tells Steve that Tony's body is in Wakanada, being worked on in hopes they can bring him back, Steve and Rhodey takes it upon themselves to make sure that Harley and Peter will be okay while Tony's dead, while also not telling them about everything whoops. does that make sense? who knows, anyway its cute and sad but the series will get happier

AO3 [X]

Steve Rogers hadn’t put it past Tony to survive the second (third?) snap, sure they had gone to his funeral, but there was always that part of him which was hoping, deeply hoping.

Pepper had been the one to tell him that Tony’s body was frozen in Wakanda in the hopes that they could help, their technology was far more advanced than even Starks, and no one really knew what happened when the snaps happened, despite Stark, Banner, and Strange’s estimations.

Pepper had also told him that the kids didn’t know, which made sense in the case of Morgan, she was only four and sure she was as bright as Tony ever was, but it could still be cruel to give her hope, he was certain that Pepper had misspoke when she used the plural of the word until she pulled two teenage boys into a tight hug with Morgan between the three of them.

He knew that one was Peter Parker, the kid who was the Spiderman, though he wasn’t even sixteen yet, he was the one who Tony had done this all for, the one Tony had lost, who he would sometimes say “the kid would like this” or “c’mon what would Pete do?” when he thought others couldn’t hear him. The other he had asked Nat about, she told him he was Harley Keener, who had helped save Tony and the world when the Mandarin was around causing havoc, Steve had of course heard about him.

He walked over to them while they were in the cabin talking to each other, the smaller kid looking quiet, or as puppy phrased it ‘like a kicked puppy dog, kinda like you used to Stevie’, the other was almost trying to make up for the other with the enthusiasm in his voice and with his hand gestures.

“Queens.” He greeted allowing a small smirk on his face to show he was past being put on his ass by a fourteen year old, and to seem non-threatening. The kid froze, stood up straighter, and looked guilty, not the impression Steve had hoped to make.

“Mr Captain America, sir.”

A snot came from the slightly older kid.

Steve sent the pair a smile. “It’s just Steve, Spidey.”

“Peter, Peter Parker, sir. I’m, er, I’m sorry about the whole, tffwap tffwap thing,” he did gestures which Steve recognised as the things he had down to make the webs, “and everything, I mean I’m glad Mr Stark found me, but I’m still sorry that…” He trailed off.

“Wow, Pete, Tony must have loved you calling him Mr Stark all the time, probably did his ego wonders.” Harley’s sarcastic southern drawl was somehow full of fondness.

Peter’s cheeks pinkened a little, he shrugged his shoulders. “He kinda hated it. It’s not my fault, my uncle, he taught me,” His voice thickened a little and for a second Steve was worried he was going to cry, but he pushed it back and continued, “and they’re big on it at my school.

“Damn, I would have used it on Tony if I’d known it annoyed him.” His voice was serious but when he met Peter’s eyes the two of them burst out laughing.

They didn’t notice the team, the family , around them smiling at the two, but Steve did.

“It must be weird to be here together without Tony.” Steve said sympathetically, once they had finished laughing, trying to move onto what he had been intending on talking about.

“Oh no, we’ve never met before today, I didn’t even know who he was, I mean he’s obviously, he was obviously important to Mr- to Tony but I…” He trailed off.

Harley threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Tony always said he kept us apart so we didn’t cause too many explosions.” He supplied, his smile widened when he heard Peter laughed, Harley plastered on an innocent look but there was a glint in his eyes. “I think he thought I’d corrupt Pete, which is just offensive.” The glint disappeared and his face fell ever so slightly. “He kept talkin’ about getting you back, when I spoke to him while you were gone... he’d introduce us and we’d finally meet, that we could spend Christmas with him.” He swallowed deeply and it was clear that the two of them were about to cry.

Steve reached into his pocket, pulled out two handkerchiefs (one of which Bucky had actually forgotten that morning but Steve had forgotten to give back to him), he handed one to each of the boys who subtly dried their eyes and calmed down. He focused on Peter first who seemed to be taking longer to calm down. “I’m not really going to be a hero anymore, I’m passing the mantle onto Sam, Falcon, but I’ll still be in New York most of the time, unless I’m hanging out with the team, that’s not to far from Queens, you need anything just call me, any time, I’ll be there in ten, whether it’s hero business, or if it’s just you wanting to talk to someone, about anything, though if it’s science I might need Dr Banner in my ear to explain some of the stuff. I do have quite a few funny stories about Tony though.” He reached out and squeezed Peter’s shoulder before turning to look at Harley. “Tony said you were going to MIT, once this all calmed down, it’s a little far for me to run but the same goes to you, if you need me just let me know, I’ll be there in a couple of hours, and if you need to talk,” he nodded his head.

“I’ll be around MIT.”

Steve turned to see Rhodey walking towards them, he was trying to smile, to stay light hearted as he did around Tony, he locked eyes with him and knew in a moment that they both knew where Tony’s body really was, and that Pepper was right -Tony’s kids couldn’t know.

“So if, as Tony would put it, ‘your smart mouth’ gets you into trouble, let me know. I still have a suit or two lying around, and I did enough talking to cops when your-” he stopped himself from saying ‘dad’ but Steve heard it, he was pretty sure both kids did too, “when Tony was in MIT with me. And I have plenty of photos and embarrassing stories about him.”

He had planned on filling the boys on those at christmas so he could be the fun uncle, and they could hold it over his head, Tony wouldn’t have minded, but… well they’d have to fill the Tony sized hole in all of their lives… “And Pete, I’ll be around New York sometimes too, and when I’m not, like Steve said, I’m a phone call away. Tony was, he had been tinkering, while Morgan was asleep, he managed to improve the StarkPhones in this place,” he shook his head wondering how smart his best friend really was, to still be trying to improve the world while in a cabin in the woods surrounded by a world which was fractured in two, “he put a couple of them aside for both of you, he sounded bummed when he said that you’d both probably find ways to improve them within an hour of having them.”

He smiled at them, Tony had been so proud when he had said that, Rhodey knew where he had left them, upstairs in the kids rooms, which neither of them had spent a night in, Harley had refused to visit until as Tony had told him ‘the old man got off his ass and fixed this shit’, and Peter for obviously reasons couldn’t. “We’re not Tones,” Rhodey tilted his head back to the overspilling rooms, full of heroes who were broken without their mechanic, “but we’re family, you two are part of that, have been since Tony met you both, we’ll have your back, all of us. We’re gonna rebuild the compound, once it’s done you should both come hang out, train, we’re big on video games there, I’m guessing you both know a thing or two about that.”

Steve let out a snort of laughter. “Yeah, we need someone to beat Clint, finally, I think he somehow hacked the game disk…”

“I don’t think you can do that…” Harley’s tone was cautious but he was smiling again. “I mean unless Tony made it and pirated the game…” They could see the gears in the two boys' minds turning with the possibilities, before both of their faces dropped, clearly remembering Tony.

Steve and Rhodey watched Harley pull Peter more into his side, both of them looking at the floor to hide their blossoming tears, and all Captain America and War Machine could think of was the body in Wakanda which they would be flying to sit vigil over, waiting, hoping, praying, for a spark of life,... and that Tony would wake up before the boys found out.