#one again no respect for entropy and time controls

[i-am-q]

SOS ho o needs her medicine

[mysteriouspresence]

Madoka Magica and Evangelion: A Comparison of Themes

part 3/3, SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT

i’m assuming that anyone reading this post has either watched both shows or does not care for spoilers. this is your warning, if you don’t want to know what happens, turn back now before I start exposing the truth as the shows in question do, after the first few episodes.

again, this post got rather long, so please click on the expand button to read it all!

science fiction works with enemies disguised next to the protagonists

both the wish magic and EVA robots have alien origins — the former is granted through the Incubator’s technology, and the latter is cloned from the first Angel, Adam. later on, the protagonists will use this very technology to try and defeat the source, though it causes reality itself to reconstruct from how powerful the ability becomes, in their hands. however, in both cases, the power to defeat evil spawned from evil itself. the threads of fate that allowed Madoka to become a goddess (and later on, Homura to become a devil) and destroy all witches came from Homura’s attempts to save her while Shinji ended Instrumentality since Rei and Kaworu (Lilith and Adam) helped him find his will to live again, and respected his wish to rebuild the world. in both cases, it’s shown that the otherworldly powers are great enough to grant wishes to save or destroy humanity, based on the user’s desires.

also, the enemy that secretly controls the negative events impacting the protagonists is revealed to be the system they serve. still, said enemies also claim to be causing suffering for the greater good of humanity: Kyubey, who served as the magical girls’ guide turns out to be an Incubator. this advanced alien race uses magical girls’ despair (when their Soul Gems become so polluted with negativity that they burst and cause the girl to turn into a witch) to reverse entropy and stop the heat death of the universe. on the other hand, NERV, under the control of SEELE, had secretly planned for Instrumentality (the merging of all human souls) to happen, hoping that it would unite humankind to a higher plane of existence by removing the walls that people erect around their hearts. however, in both these cases, these benevolent plans require the suffering of children — to make wishes, to pilot the EVAs — to realize.

Character Arcs and Archetypes:

main character (Madoka/Homura, Shinji): they’re framed as weak and useless on the surface, often bursting into tears and wishing to run away, yet they face their fears and turn out to be the strongest ones of all, by sacrificing their own wishes to give humanity a chance to fight on, even if it means they must endure the pain of those around them. in Madoka’s case, she became a goddess who must take away the despair of all magical girls in all time and space, while Homura chose to become a devil to save the “human” portion of Madoka so she could have a normal childhood with her other friends. meanwhile, Shinji rejects Instrumentality despite knowing it means returning to a ruined world where humans will become individuals who can hurt him again. each of these characters takes responsibility for the fate of the world with their final wish because there were people (friends, family, and comrades) they loved that they wanted to see happy again.

(Left: Madoka crying over Mami's death by a witch. Right: Shinji runs away from home after his friends almost got killed in an Angel attack)

supporting tsundere (Kyoko, Asuka): both characters are portrayed as “tsundere”, but this stock character personality is broken down over time in both series to show that their pride is just a front for their internal helplessness, avoidant attachment, and lack of self-confidence — both girls are orphans who tragically lost their families (and in part due to acquiring their special abilities) at a young age and decided that the best way to avoid being hurt again would be to claim absolute independence because they learned that relying on other people means that this comfort may fly away at any time. as a result, they push away the people around them to assert themselves as an individual who “doesn’t need others”. in the end, both characters regain true confidence, only to sacrifice themselves in hopes of saving the very people they rejected at the beginning of their arc.

mysterious quiet one (Homura, Rei): both characters are portrayed as kuudere types who prefer to observe the other main characters except when making vague comments that make little sense to anyone but become painfully clear in retrospect, such as Homura’s warnings against becoming a magical girl (seeing how the girls must suffer until they become witches) or Rei’s declarations that she is easily replaceable (having hundreds of backup clones stored in the NERV headquarters). ultimately, the reason they know so much about the “truth” is revealed much later in the story, near the climax — Homura is a time-traveler who’s lived through the same month dozens of times, while Rei is a clone made from Lilith’s soul who has been killed at least twice throughout the series.

Thematic Ideas and Symbolism

in both franchises, despair brings great power but also great suffering. wishes and a mother’s love power magical girls and EVA units accordingly, but as a result, the abilities of the main characters to fight become impacted by their emotional state as well. soul gems are corrupted by despair and cause magical girls to turn into witches over time, while the EVAs will stop responding to a pilot who closes off their emotions. unfortunately, in both cases, the users are exposed to traumatizing situations that leave them emotionally exhausted and vulnerable to negativity, driving them toward doom and the inability to fight any longer. notably, Sayaka becomes a witch after falling into a destructive spiral, and Asuka loses control of her EVA following her mental breakdown. 

both series use allusions in their world-building. in Evangelion, the aliens are named Angels, while the progenitors of life are named Adam and Lilith, all obvious references to the Christian religion. in Madoka Magica, Madoka becomes a goddess to save magical girls. Madoka’s witch form is called Kriemhild Gretchen, a reference to Faust’s love interest, and other Faust quotes are featured in the witch runes scattered in labyrinths. what is most interesting is how the usage of Christian themes in a non-Christian predominant society (Japan) echoes Western works referencing Grecoroman pantheons, creating a sense of ancient power by tying a set of objects to some foreign, mystical force.

(Left: Madoka goddess from Madoka Magica episode 12. Right: Angel Areal from Evangelion episode 22)

Conclusion

Madoka Magica and Evangelion serve as deconstructions of conventional magical girl and mecha shows by showing how cartoon portrayals of war with otherworldly forces, normally targeted at children, paint over a grim reality with idealizations. these shows seem to ask, "isn't it ridiculous to think that kids can save us all when even the adults can't?" the shows challenge this mindset that we grew up with — hoping for a call to adventure, for a chance to prove ourselves in extraordinary circumstances — without truly considering the burden of responsibility that we will have to take on, while simultaneously exploring the nature of human relationships, something that everyone is inevitably familiar with — themes such as love, trust, and grief.

that's all I have for analysis for now, i hope this was an interesting read! please let me know if I missed anything major, and feel free to add to the discussion!

[lexadovah]

Hero of Ferelden Info Sheet

(Stolen from @dreadhorsegirl )

Basic Details

Name: Astrid Amell

Nicknames: Asta

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Bisexual

Age: 19 at start of events in DAO

Height: 5'5

Build: Slim

Race/Ethnicity: Human-Free Marcher

Skintone: Pale with some freckles on her nose

Hair: Strawberry blond

Eyes: Blue-grey

Game specifications

Class: Mage

Specialization: Primal and Entropy, later on Arcane Warrior

Origin: Circle Mage

Religious Beliefs: Agnostic, later on she becomes more interested in what the Old Gods could be (basically follows Morrigan’s line of thinking) and how this connects to the Fade etc

Major Game Decisions

Love Interest: Alistair

Broken Circle: Mages Supported

The Arl of Redcliffe: Isolde sacrificed for the blood magic ritual, Connor alive and not possessed

Nature of the Beast: Brokered Peace

The Battle of Denerim: Warden killed archdemon & alive and well—Alistair made an Old God Baby with Morrigan

Ruler of Ferelden: Anora

Character Attributes

Timid to Assertive scale:

Timid ◦ ◦ ◦ ◦ ● Assertive

Logical to Emotional scale:

Logical ◦ ● ◦ ◦ ◦ Emotional

Introvert to Extrovert scale:

Introvert ◦ ● ◦ ◦ ◦ Extrovert

Biggest Strength: Fearlessness, not afraid to face anyone head on. Has a very “I’ll do it myself” attitude

Biggest Weakness: Acts without thinking, can come across as careless

Relationship to Family: Doesn’t know who her father is, never met any of her siblings (she’s the youngest of five) and has vague memories of her mother but doesn’t really remember ever feeling safe or loved by her. She has vague memories of her cousins from her childhood and later reconnects with Bethany in the Wardens

Closest Relationships: Jowan and Neria were her best friends during her time in the Circle. She had a relationship with Anders and a mutual crush on Cullen. Alistair and Morrigan during DAO. She was also good friends with Leliana and Zevran by the end of DAO and had mutual respect with Sten.

Core Desire: To have a family and a place to call home

Core Fear: Losing Alistair

Character Arc Theme: finding her place in the world. She’s “too big” for the Circle, she never knew her real family, (besides the Hawkes). She just wants to find her purpose and live happily with her found family

Backstory

Revka had left Kirkwall far behind when she gave birth to Astrid. On a small farm outside of Highever, Revka kept the tiny Astrid strapped to her chest while she tended the gardens and fed the chickens. But when she saw the Templars coming up the road, she disappeared.

The mother and child did not remain in any one place for long after that; she worked where she could to make enough coin to get by, be that collecting herbs for the nights stew in a tavern, or mucking out the stables at a crossroads inn. She never gave her real name, and never let the child spend too much time alone in the company of others.

One stormy night, when Astrid was just five years old, Revka appeared on her cousin Leandra’s doorstep. Tired from running, she hoped to find sanctuary with her estranged family, and remained for a few weeks. Her paranoia kept her at odds with her cousin, and Malcolm Hawke observed that Astrid was already showing signs of magic at an early age—the same as his daughter Bethany. The two young girls were of an age together and became fast friends in that time, the difference being that Bethany was taught to control her magic whereas Astrid was told to ignore it and pretend she wasn’t a mage.

After a heated argument between Malcolm and Revka—in which Malcolm had offered to teach Astrid how to control her powers and Revka forbade him to even look at her child—she disappeared again, Astrid in tow. A few days after this incident, the Templars finally caught up; to Astrid, alone, sitting on the side of the road bundled in nothing but the clothes on her back and a dirty old cloak wrapped about her tiny shoulders. No one ever saw or heard from Revka again.

Her time in the Circle was mostly uneventful. Astrid struggled to make friends and was behind in terms of knowing her numbers and letters. She was adamant that her mother would come back for her, which the other mage children teased her about, as no one’s mother was coming for them.

She eventually made friends with Jowan, a year older than her, who helped her catch up with her reading and writing. She was bunk mates with Neria Surana, who was the closest thing to a sister she had ever known. And despite her early struggles, she had remembered her cousin Malcolm’s words about taking control of your magic and not letting it rule you—she studied hard and gained a firm grasp on her powers, exceeding many other kids her age.

She became defiant as a teenager, asking questions about why they couldn’t be free and finding the rules of the Circle oppressive. She didn’t want to remain in this cage forever and longed for a life outside the Circle walls. Her instructors believed she could be an Enchanter one day, but that just Wasn’t Good Enough. Regardless she started buckling down and studying hard in the hopes of passing her Harrowing and opening opportunities to leave the tower for Circle related business.

It was during this time she felt a rift between herself and her two friends. Neria had become distant, choosing the company of other elf mages, and Jowan was often nowhere to be found. When she did speak with them, they found her constant studying annoying, claiming she was “giving in” to the system.

Astrid was excelling at most schools of magic, but was struggling with healing spells and was soon set up to be tutored by Anders (who was given the tutoring job as a punishment for his latest escapades and a hope to keep him busy). During long hours studying together and her loneliness she started a friends-with-benefits affair with Anders that carried on until he escaped a fifth and final time—but not before she had grasped healing magic enough to take her Harrowing…

[athenafire]

What feelings does your character most often instill in their fans? Affection? A desire to protect? Open lust? A love/hate dynamic? Why do you think their fans feel this way? By contrast, what would their haters dislike about your character? Is it a petty complaint? A mischaracterization of the character or their intentions? Are they just a woman in a largely male-centric series? What would be the ‘incorrect but wildly popular’ interpretation of your character in fandom? How does fandom characterize/mischaracterize your characters ship in fanworks?

META ASKS:If Your OC Was Canon. [Accepting]

This is going to be a long one.

First, I need to define what Meredith is as a character, and it's pretty personal. I came up with the concept of the void, and it being fucked up, a decade or so back when I was having to face my own mortality. An endless entropy that cannot be stopped. But facing down the end of your life in a situation you cannot control does things to your brain.

Then after I found out I had beaten back the virus, but came out scarred from it, that changed a lot about my teenage perspective. It was pretty paradigm shifting. And the base concept of Meredith was born from that.

The idea that societal boxes mean nothing, and learning to work with yourself, and your demons, rather than pushing back all the time. It's not about becoming better, it's about finding peace and comfort with yourself. I can't say much else without spoiling ideas I have coming up but :)

With all that in mind, I feel like people would dilute her meaning down to "Big strong lesbian cottage core" calling her mood and #lifegoals without understanding how toxic she is to herself. I've been in fandom long enough to know ladies are not respected in the slightest. Some people are also going to either say she's trans coded or autistic when... hey, if that's what floats your boat, fine.

Haters I don't have to imagine, I have anon turned off right now for a reason :)

Meredith has boobs, is lady, and has any form of power/agency, so she is a Mary Sue.

On top of being distilled down to cottage core lesbian, people would treat her as even dumber than she actually is. Meredith is smart, but in her own way. She does not understand a lot, but people would translate that to 'haha dumb beefy strong lady'. Which is just...sad.

To answer the last one, this sounds highly negative but..again, female character. Time to hate on them relentlessly for 'getting in the way of the gay' despite being a character with little to no interest in relationships due to her own mental health issues.

[onaperduamedee]

Notes on The Shadow Rising

Full spoilers for The Shadow Rising under the cut

The beginning is so striking, with chilling use of Min’s viewing, as a way to set up a threat that could unfold at any moment. The brutality of her visions, superimposed with the mundanity of life in the Tower, reminds me of Rand’s unsettling “flicker flicker” vision. It’s a shame the book doesn’t make full use of the suspense born in that initial chapter later on, because, to me, it is by far the strongest opening up to that point.

I am still absolutely baffled by the EF5 and Min's reaction to Siuan or Moiraine being actually quite straightforward with what they intend to do with Rand, meaning keeping him from killing himself before the Last Battle because he's both extremely powerful and vulnerable: their takeaway is always that Siuan and Moiraine want to control him rather than “Rand is in unimaginable danger both from the dark side and himself, and the only people who could maybe teach him and prevent him from going mad could destroy him - and if he fails or dies, you all are screwed.”

The story itself lays it down quite neatly, I think, but to live the story through the eyes of characters who cannot toss out the blinders in this particular area can be frustrating. Of course, it’s most likely caused by Rand’s ta’veren gravitational pull and Min’s feelings for him, but other characters have the same attitude toward the whole “What to do when there is a Dragon Reborn in your midst?” conundrum. 

"bubble of evil" is a silly name for a pretty cool concept. It's like magic entropy and it will obviously translate to bloody amazing scenes in the show. 

And the award for coolest character description ever goes to Robert Jordan for “[Moiraine] bore down on Rand like a silent, silken avalanche, icy and inexorable.”

Light, Elayne, Egwene and Nynaeve discussing Rand and Berelain like they are 14 and Rand is a puppy that can be trained and adopted by one or the other... Hey, it's messed up when Moiraine does it with Lan's bond, it's not better when Elayne does it because she's in love. And the slut-shaming of Berelain is all the more grating that the girls are shocked but perfectly able to respect the concept of sister-wife with the Aiel. It's beyond preposterous. At least, Moiraine is there to remind them people have different cultures. 

I've misjudged Thom. Just because he's linked to the parts I've found most tedious in TEotW doesn't mean he is. I've been enjoying his sly fox drama-creating persona quite a lot lately. He's very protective of the kids and genre-savvy which is always a win for me. And his show-down with Moiraine had me holding my breath the entire time. I love that he’s the one getting people assassinated and she still comes off as more terrifying. 

The Trolloc attack was truly blood-pumping. As a non-native speaker, I find Robert Jordan’s descriptions of fighting highly confusing, but deliciously dynamic. The pressure for the show to deliver on those scenes, in particular, must be immense.

Rand trying to revive the little girl will haunt me. I need to draw it, but it is so stark and brutal, I don’t know how to.

Feeling so angry on behalf of Berelain again. Every time she shows up, she gets comments on her appearance and behavior, from men and women alike. And their reaction is so violent, it's absolutely unhinged and unjustified. Faile deserved to land on her ass.

Before the twisted doorway, the book is strikingly similar to TGH. Everyone cooped up in a fortress. Darkfriends held and interrogated being freed during a sudden attack. Rand refusing to make a decision until circumstances force him to. Everyone loathes Moiraine. Magic object the Dark One tries to take. Another hunt after Dark Friends is launched.

Adored the venture into the twisted ter'angreal. I loved the manic energy of the Finn and I guffawed when they just picked Mat up and hurled him across the doorway. The fact that Mat, Rand and Moiraine then proceeded to have a very awkward post-ter'angreal walk of shame, none of them willing to share what they had experienced although extremely curious about what happened for the others was perfect. I do wonder why Moiraine seemed to have experienced it as something more than confusing and almost painful.

Mat gradual mastery of Old Tongue is just *chef’s kiss*.

I don't enjoy any of the romantic relationships so far. I won't go into details about the pairings because one's appreciation of romantic dynamics is highly subjective, but Min and Rand might be the only mostly palatable canon relationship for me.

Rand and the Highlords summon in the Stone was gripping. He has good intentions, lowering taxes and trying to quell inequality, but yeah, he is already showing signs of madness and tyranny. He knows it, he's still fighting, but he cannot do everything at once, be a ruler, a prophet and a sane man. His struggle to do the right thing is well done and Rand has hands-down become my favourite of the EF boys as a consequence.

Siuan is as always demonstrating why she was the head of the spy network by expertly handling Min dropping in unannounced. Did I mention her mind is the hottest thing ever? She’s the M, she’s the Q, she’s the indisputable James Bond of this party.

Everything from the moment the EF5 got separated was highly entertaining: Nyn, Elayne and Thom with the Sea Folk; Rand, Egwene, Moiraine and Mat with the Aiel; Perrin, Faile and Loial in the Two Rivers. Robert Jordan is masterful at building tension and suspense in preparation for game-changers too, even if it drags a little at times.

I lied earlier, the Sea Folk are the hottest.

So the Sea Folk have a prophecy about the Dragon destroying the White Tower and the Aiel about him destroying the Aiel… Interesting. I wonder if the Aes Sedai all knew this.

Everything about Rhuidean. The aura of mystery and age surrounding it. The danger and unpredictability. The bloody ter’angreal graveyard. The beauty of it all. The intense journey back in time to understand the Aiel. The culmination in the utter horror that was the Breaking of the World, as men would annihilate everything in fits of madness. The Aes Sedai planning to hide as many weapons of mass destruction as possible to save what was left of humanity.

Bloody. Hell.

Robert Jordan has the most photographic approach to fantasy I have ever seen.

I haven’t mentioned Mat yet but he is a very dynamic character now, arguably the most in the main cast, and immensely enjoyable as a consequence, whatever he does. With major changes happening so quickly to both Perrin and Rand, while Mat was on pause for most of the early books, I wonder how the changes will spread in the future, for all of them.

Verin explaining ta'veren was perfect... Fascinating that the boys have been obsessed with being manipulated when they are the most likely to control others, although unwillingly.

Respect to Alanna and Verin for sticking with Perrin in the Two Rivers out of curiosity because this is Helm's Deep all over again.

It would be so much easier to take the characters' wariness of Aes Sedai seriously if every sentence they uttered did not sound like it came straight out of the mouth of a 16th c. priest terrified of those tainted and treacherous women. Because that's exactly what it reminds me of.

I would be a hundred percent on their side if Aes Sedai actually held any power in society, like a mirror to patriarchy. But despised and othered as they are, they don't really. It's utterly bizarre because they also can be relevant criticism of old institutions like administrations and academia, peopled by people who can be both intentionally and unintentionally nefarious, but, man, the reverse patriarchy angle is so wrapped in misogyny, external and internal.

Siuan… Siuan… Mille millions de mille milliards de mille sabords de tonnerre de Brest. Min warned us and I was still not prepared. Seeing the chapter’s title, I was so nervous and almost didn’t want to read it. I cannot believe this chapter happened to Siuan. I was shaking,  bloody hell. To her credit, I feel she would have succeeded in turning the White Tower into Rand’s ally had Elaida not burnt with so much hatred for Siuan. The way Siuan’s first thought after she was taken was for Leane, the way she picked herself up and started planning immediately after she was freed… I cannot express how much I admire and love her. 

The way her anger is also something that feels so validating and personal, a kind of rage on behalf of herself that comes from being violated and discarded so casually. And her drive and poise after that, her refusal to stop despite losing everything, her partnering with Logain - reader, I screamed. The only way this could have been greater is if the coup, trial, stilling, imprisonment and escape had spanned across two or three chapters. As it is and in the middle of lengthy Rand and Perrin chapters, it felt like a speedrun. 

However proud I am of Min for freeing Leane and Siuan, Min reflecting, just after seeing Siuan at her lowest, that she preferred her when she was meeker? Unwarranted and cruel. The lack of compassion for Aes Sedai in general can be so jarring.

Although her presence was more muted than in the last book, Moiraine’s journey was as beautifully heartbreaking as Rand’s, especially given all the parallels between the two - Rhuidean unveiling the bond existing between Cairhien and the Aiel, I see what you are doing Master Jordan. There is a quiet despair to her every interaction, particularly with Rand, that is growing urgent: she is failing to reach out to him, despite being utterly dedicated to him. I’m generally wary of attributing a familial reading to older women and younger characters as it’s often flattening the layers of identities and relationships for women, but, you know, I got major mother-son vibes from these two. To me, the reading is incomplete as it fails to factor Moiraine’s prime role as a failed mentor who settled for shield, but the emotions are there and hitting a very specific spot. Despite her hopelessness and refusal to compromise for him, her belief in Rand is devastating. Her speech to him about people fighting for him, with him, without his knowledge was my favourite of the book and made me deeply emotional.

The thing with Moiraine is that she is so isolated and incomprehensible to others - the multiple occurrences when characters question whether she is human and have feelings - that when she just accepts to walk to her death into Rhuidean like that, it almost feels like peace at last for her. Stalwart indomitable guilt-ridden little soul she is.   

Still extremely disappointed we got so little of Egwene and Moiraine with the Wise Ones: some incredible intercultural (gay) exchanges and channeling were happening and we saw next to nothing of it. I am obsessed with Egwene meeting Amys in the Dream World at gunpoint and recreating “the old man yells at cloud” meme, except it’s a Wise One yelling at flying Egwene.

On Egwene, she is so fearless and determined to learn, often going in blind to help the people she loves. She has self-possession and drive in spades, with distinctive earnestness and sharpness. I love her so and had I read these books as a teen I know I would have imprinted on her quite ferociously.

Brigitte hanging out in tel'aran'rhiod was unexpected but welcome… What a delightful and helpful NPC to encounter in this hellscape.

Mandatory “I hate that the EF5 come off as incredibly thick so often”. Nyn and Elayne managed to get fooled by both a Seanchan and a Forsaken and only got away because, nah, that's fine, they don't have nefarious intent toward them yet.

Holy mackerel, just when I was getting frustrated with Nynaeve and Elayne twiddling their thumbs in Tanchico, they actually pull the most badass coolest heist of the entire series so far, doing their recon through dreaming, staging a riot as a diversion and enrolling a seanchan of all people. The confrontation between Nynaeve and Moghedien was bloody epic - and an excellent argument for the show making weaves visible to all.

I love when Nynaeve is in prep mode. It's so much fun. I know she thinks Siuan desperate to pick them for this mission, but Nynaeve is exactly the asset she needed. Given how Siuan and Moiraine got into this search, rather inexperienced and with nothing but determination on their back, obviously the girls are ideal for this mission: Egwene certainly has Siuan's sharpness and Nynaeve Moiraine's stubbornness.

Paired with the number of times Elayne reflects that she would be a good monarch instead of those terrible monarchs, the easiness with which she forgot Egwene was enslaved and tortured by Seanchan is interesting. She’s still so young and her upbringing is that of royalty, so it is in-character at least.

I KNEW ONE OF THE PEDDLERS OR MORE HAD TO BE A FORSAKEN. I KNEW IT. Very well-done.

Between Slayer, Moghedien and Asmodean, the book does a great job showing the escalation in threats for Rand and his allies. The world is now crawling with powerful channelers who are matches for Rand, especially so early in his learning. Also, Moghedien is exactly the kind of gal I could ruin my life for - and so could Nynaeve.

Joking aside, Moghedien was the first time I got the sense the Forsaken could be truly terrifying. Compelling is scary. Lanfear is flirting too often with the unstable ex archetype and the men are mostly irrelevant. Now, I am quite excited about the Asmodean and Rand combo.

Rand's plan to trick the Forsaken into following him and trap one to teach him how to use saidin is a genuinely smart move: he cannot change who he is, it’s time he sees it as a gift and learns to use it. Combined with Rand devouring books to understand himself and the world around him, there is a strong undercurrent of “knowledge is power” that compels me immensely. As Moiraine would say, “the power inside you is the smallest part of your strength. It’s your mind and how you use it that will mean much more in the battles to come.”

The less good: I am having such a hard time with the romances: they rely heavily on the premise men and women are two different species and that any equilibrium between them will be reached through a balance in power rather than understanding (or just plain acknowledgment people are just people). The characters are constantly depicted as elaborating strategies to overpower or submit to the opposite gender in order to handle them (the Two Rivers folk counseling Perrin and Faile are particularly egregious). It's plain gender essentialism and frankly tiring to encounter every four paragraphs. The characters end up being at their worst when they talk to or think about their love interest and it's not even entertaining.

(That said, Perrin's letter to Faile was stunning, and I got misty-eyed, ngl.)

The middle ground: The Two Rivers and Aiel plotlines… I am conflicted. On one hand, they were really enjoyable. I love, love when fantasy is closer to anthropology than it is to fiction and it gave me exactly that level of detail. It’s just vibes and overall great character development for Perrin and Rand, with a blend of political and personal stakes. On the other, both arcs would have benefited from being pruned, for the sake of balance and pacing. Just like with TGH, you get great swaths of chapters focusing on two characters and cultures, and then just one chapter on other players and places. It's all the more dissatisfying that what's happening at the Tower, or with the Wise Ones, or with the Sea Folk, is just as essential.

Did I spend ¾ of the Aiel Waste wondering why the hell they are all described as light-haired and -eyed although they have been living in the desert for 3000 years? I did. And then I got distracted by Moiraine having a great time nerding out with the Wise Ones and riding up close with one in the distance.

The great: The books have now settled into what I was expecting: multiple character threads, extensive and beautiful worldbuilding, complex character dynamics. I’ve begun to look forward to the slow start, middle shenanigans and bombastic finale. The psychology of certain characters - Rand, Egwene, Moiraine in particular - is building up to something quite delicious and explosive, even if I cannot quite tell what yet. Many of the reveals (Rand’s stunt in the Stone, Rhuidean, Siuan’s fate, the Forsaken in the Waste) had me blindsided and were masterfully prepared for. Overall, I did prefer The Dragon Reborn, but the highs of The Shadow Rising were higher than the ones in the last. I am really, really excited to continue.

[freyous]

The Devil and His Details

This is based on this prompt on r/writingprompts.

Hell is suing the church for defamation. Not for painting them as evil, but because they spread the myth of demons possessing humans. And if there is one thing that Satan respects, it’s free will

“Mister…” The judge began to call as he read through the paper on his desk. This case had been prepared for, who got jurisdiction over what, but no matter how much one prepared, it was daunting to have this… thing before him.

“Morningstar, yes, don’t be afraid of the name.” He had no features that would make him stand out, he wasn’t dashing or scary, and he had a forgettable face. Someone you could pass in the street and never think of again. This was the face of the devil, just another man in the world. “Before people were afraid of my name they hated it.”

“Yes, of course… Mister Morningstar.” The judge cleared his throat. “So, you are here with the intent to… sue the Christian Church… for defamation?”

Mr. Morningstar walked from behind the table and looked around at the people in the room. He steepled his fingers as he motioned to those who represented the Christian Church. “Yes, and I have a damning case against them, your honor.”

The defense moved uneasily as they awaited the words of Morningstar.

“One of the greatest claims, more specifically among the quote unquote Roman Catholics, is that Thee Devil can posses people.” He motioned over to one of the priests at the table. “I am here to argue that they have besmirched my name.”

The defense sat and watched Morningstar. To which he just smiled softly towards them.

“My response to this heinous assumption is simply. No.” People in the stands behind began to talk amongst themselves in a lower hushed tone before the judge hit the gavel. “I would never take another man’s free will. Cain proved that, I never needed to.” He sat on the edge of this table and looked around the room. “Human nature is a fact, just as entropy is a fact. Humans act on human desires. Those desires can lead to… the death of a brother. An abuse of power.” His gentle eyes looked toward the defense attorney. 

“Objection! Heresy.” The defense shot out.

“Defense, you are not on trial here, but Mr Morningstar… please refrain from using any… outside information to intimidate the defense further on.” The judge swallowed. His eyes never looked toward Morningstar anymore. He didn’t want to know what he saw within him.

“Of course your honor.” Morningstar folded his arms. “Those desires can lead to humanities worst atrocities. Some have argued it has been my whispers to cause the descent of humanity into evil, but I have had my hands off the wheel for quite some time. Humans have… made my job quite easy. Punishing the damned, humans punish others for their damnation in life, I simply carry that out. The prison system, I borrowed some of my newest additions to Hell from your own creations. Nuclear weapons, splitting the building blocks of the universe, you all are children breaking wooden blocks and getting splinters. Blaming the people who provided you with these tools, for the pain they cause.”

“Objection, relevance to the case?” 

“Overruled, but I ask Mr. Morningstar that you hurry this thing up.”

Morningstar nodded and pushed off the table. “For centuries, I have been the man on trial, the man to blame for all of the problems in the world, and for controlling others to do my bidding. My argument against this case. I would never take away what makes mortal sin, mortal sin. Free will.” He motioned around the room. “I guided humanity to the Garden of Eden. To the Forbidden Fruit. Man first realized they were naked. That they were ashamed to be naked. I merely suggested humanity be open to free will. It was always the plan, never a punishment. Your God, the Father, He who art in Heaven, was apart of this plan. Temptation is not a man made idea, temptation lead me down this path. It was a path paved by God, just as love, and all of the good things in the world have been paved by God. He does not lead you down this path however, he does not lead you down any path. He let you all stay in the Garden… until you decided to take the first step down all of your paths. A path, I recommended you all take. And a path I believe is the most important one of all. Free will. The decision to do bad. I have everything to gain by all of your hatred along this way, and everything to lose by forcing you all down these paths. I end my opening statement. I apologize for my lack of brevity.”

There was a silence hanging in the air. It was long yes, but, everyone felt a paralyzing force being in the same room as the devil. 

The judge cleared his throat. “Defense?”

“Of… of course.” He stood up and walked around his table as Morningstar went to sit behind his own table. “My opening statement will be brief. It is a simple open and shut case your honor. I ask the jury to understand that, really, this is the simplest verdict of your loves.” He let a pause hang in the air for a few moments. Looking towards those he was representing today. “Today, we are here to prove to you all that the literal devil is the devil. Scriptures have painted him as a liar, a cheat, a criminal, a crook. He’ll skirt around the truth and try to convince us all that we really cause all of this?”

Morningstar caught the defense attorney’s glance. That soft smile on his lips. 

He stopped in his tracks. It felt like there was a drill boring into his soul. He’d blink and realize. This was the devil. A man in all of us. “I… uhm.” The guilt, the restlessness, the desire for… desire. What would this man have to do? Nothing. 

“Defense?” Asked the judge.

“If I may sir, I think my presence is having an affect on him.”

‘What would he have to do to make me do the worst… I’d do it… for myself… I came here to prove he was horrible… I’d use the truth in my own way to do so…’ The defense’s thoughts raced.

“What are you doing to him?” The judge bellowed.

“He’s possessing him!” Shouted one of the priests.

“No.” It was a chillingly calm voice that washed over the people in the room. “It’s human nature taking over. I did nothing, aside with face him. If the devil can face man and argue that… your actions are your own. What does that mean for the rest of your life and your destinies?”

There was a pregnant pause as the defense attorney’s breateh began shaking. 

“You all are posed with the hypothesis. What is it you all do? Why do you all do it? To what ends? I have the answer to all of my questions. Humanity does not. When the answer is so close… It suffocates you.”

The defense attorney falls to his knees.

“I came here for the sake of humanity. So that they might focus more on life, rather than the damnation to follow. Live your life. The best life. Unabashedly your own. I will not guide you down any path.” Morningstar walked over to the defense and slapped his face. “And I didn’t do this to this man. He’s having a panic attack. It is so… human to look to me for blame, than something more obvious. You come to attack me rather than help your own man.”

The defense attorney blinked and looked around. 

“Not one of you went to his aide, you think because I may cause harm upon you… for helping your fellow man? This is the crux of my argument. Why would I cause harm upon good men? I do not tempt good men to do bad, nor bad men to do worse. I exist to punish those, who feed into the human nature that they can control.” He shook his head. “Believe me if you wish. But I only accept a stone cast by one who is more honest than I.”

The room remained silent. No one dared say anything more. Just anxious stares. Some believed that it was just a panic attack that befell the man, others wondered if he would come for them next. The trial of the millennia. Awaiting someone, who could throw the first stone.

[heylinhenchman]

📊 🔗 💧 🎁 🌺

THORUGHT (yeah) PROVOKING QUESTIONS | PERMACCEPT.

📊 - How does your muse feel about the state of the world? Could it be better? Could it be worse?

OUR World ? Well he wouldn't be surprised, he's savvy enough to have seen where it was going. But tbh if he were in our world his older self would probably be getting pretty chaotic neutral in support of a better environment. Can't enjoy a world that's slowly imploding on itself (also makes a buck getting weapons/blueprints to rebels just like grandmama). He still does in the nebulous modern-fantasy type world of xiaolin showdown, but with Magic and Heroes and all, it's generally expected they'll fix things and keep things 'GOOD N HAPPY' (even if it costs them (magic, resources, time, energy),,, but it don't cost HIiiMMmm).

🔗 - What are your muse’s standards for meaningful relationships? How quickly do they form relationships like these?

A meaningful relationship will ALWAYS involve the other party knowing about and/or accepting Jacks multifaceted life. Jack masks in a lot of ways with a lot of aliases. Someone's gotta be able to put up with Villain Jack, Jack Spicer Son of Important People, and Jack Spicer, that nerdy goth guy who just, is so weird (and lovable). These relationships are pretty rare, because Jack doesn't like to go into details about his family (beyond their various attempts to hinder him); and if he meets you as a civilian he doesn't always want to expose himself as a villain. Meeting him and accepting him as a villain is usually your quickest route to his trust.

From there a lot of meaning comes from a mutual understanding they cant, and trust that they wont, try to control each other. Nobody tries to make him good, and Jack is more willing to respect someones boundaries than just the average acquaintance.

Jack is a bit starved for connection, but he's also not exactly experienced with a considerate one. So he's always on guard while seeking a crumb of compassion or understanding.

💧 - How would your muse react to losing a best friend? How would they cope?

Jack gets attached to objects more than people sometimes, but it doesn't mean he wouldn't grieve in his own way. Jack... tries to be logical about these things. But maybe in a really neurodivergent way. It's that with objects he was suppose to protect them and was capable of repairing and potentially keeping them forever. If he loses an object that's his fault and it's maddening. People... aren't... forever. He's used to abandonment and he's understands entropy. But as much as he knows that, there's no preparing for the loss of someone important to you. Kinda sore subject for ... this ask but his best friend is his grandma when he doesn't have any other connections via RP. He knows life is fleeting, but he has admired her since he was young and she supports him like nobody else and has given him so much. He thought she'd find a way to live forever, and she does live for a long ass time. Even if you can accept that someone is gone, logistically, and that it went as well as one could hope. There's still a very literal physical void and emotional reaction you have to literally deal with with at some point.

Jack doesn't let a lot of people in, he doesn't have a lot of people who root for him, every single one means so much. He's really reactive at first. There's a cold couch-sinking depression, there's a lot of hot, wet with tears anger, there's a bit of hysteria. He'd shut himself off for a while, even if he had any other friends, he wouldn't really want them to see him in the state he was sure to be in. Unlike I, who trusts the psychiatric community, Jack doesn't believe in therapy. So he would stew his feelings, making unfavorable judgements and assumptions until he felt comfortable enough to come out again. Then he'd refuse to talk about it. He'd call anyone who brought it up insensitive. He'd claim it's over and he doesn't want to talk about it. It becomes a trigger for flash anger. But from time to time he'll be struck by some sorrowful thought or impulse to connect with that friend again and feel himself start to choke up and need to fuckin escape pronto.

On the hopeful side though... He clings to sentiments. Whether the friend left him physically or if they left this earth. He tends to cling to the things they left him. Even still make thing in their memory (in a way its like, the good things about em live on in the things he emulates, ya kno?).

🎁 - Does your muse celebrate their birthday? If yes, how do they celebrate? If no, why not?

Not really. His parents used to make a big deal of it when he was younger, but as he got older, it's started to just be his mom, and people she thinks should be his friends. He doesn't really like to think about aging much, but also, struggles to remember how old he is sometimes, cause he just lies a lot.

🌺 - Does your muse have a favorite flower? Why do they like it?

HOW COULD IT BE ANYTHING BUT THE MONKEY ORCHID? Orchids are just persnickety plants and who doesn't love a challenge ?

He also hates lavender. It gives him a headache and reminds him of his aunt.

[acearadiamegido]

the big arajade post

Here it is, my masterpost of why AraJade is simply poetic cinema

TL;DR: it’s all about the comparing and contrasting

Let’s get the obvious shit out of the way.

- Space vs Time aspects: Creation vs Destruction, Genesis vs Entropy, opposite but inextricably linked to one another

- Jade is her session’s resident frog hunter. Aradia was literally a frog. Do the math, my friend.

- They both have robot selves which I think is neat.

- Jade’s dream self was secretly dead from the beginning of the story, taxidermied in her grandpa’s attic. Aradia’s was secretly alive, comatose at the center of Derse.

- For that matter, Jade’s dream self was the first in her session to wake up, and Aradia’s was the last.

- Both of them self-prototyped their sprites and took on the features of their dream selves when they god tiered.

- Jade spent much of her adventure asleep, dreaming on Prospit. Aradia’s dream self couldn’t [s] wake until hers was over.

All of that is very cool, I think. But then when you actually get into their respective personalities? Even cooler.

- They both have arcs that center a lot around loneliness and agency.

Jade’s story is pretty obvious. She grows up alone on a completely isolated island, and when she finally meets her friends and starts to think that maybe things can start to be different, her friends on the ship with her just... randomly die, and she has to spend another 3 years waiting to reunite with a version of her sibling that doesn’t even come from the same timeline.

Aradia, of course, isn’t as physically isolated. But after she dies the only thing we really hear her friends say about her is that she’s creepy, and talking to her kind of sucks nowadays, aside from Vriska and Equius who clearly have ulterior motives. Sollux is another exception, but pre-retcon eventually even he and Tavros dip out on her, leaving her to third-wheel for Meenah and (Vriska) who leave to do their own thing pretty quickly, too. So she spends a lot of time roaming around the void on her own.

While Jade will take any opportunity she can get to escape her loneliness, avoiding it whenever possible, Aradia seems completely calm and content being on her own.

Jade’s agency is taken from her again and again throughout the story. From Vriska putting her to sleep throughout her life, to HIC mind-controlling her into Grimbarkness, to John’s alt-timeline deal that left her to spend 3 years alone and grieving on the ship to the new session. Even alt. Calliope tries to assert that that’s simply her lot in life, to just sort of... Wait around impotently, regardless of how hypothetically powerful she could be. 

Aradia also faces a lot of attempts on her agency. From the first time we see her, she has voices in her head telling her what the timeline has in store for her, and what she has to do to make everything happen the correct way. And for a while she goes along with it relatively complacently, seemingly in a sort of depression. But the more she breaks out of that depression, the more she meets any attempt on her agency kicking and screaming. Equius tries to take the decision away from her about how she should feel about him? She rips her heart out and starts smacking him around. Droog tries to give input as her exile? She tells him to fuck off. Even her desire to break things post-death seems like an attempt to exert literally just any influence whatsoever on her environment, because as a ghost she’s invisible and intangible. This isn’t even getting into the whole “being at the absolute bottom of the hemospectrum her whole life” thing.  She has a whole conversation with Rose apparently in crisis over whether she is in control of herself, or simply being puppeted by the alpha timeline and the voices of the dead. 

- As a result of All Of That, they approach things pretty differently. Jade sees things happening around her, and puts it on herself to take responsibility for them. If she has to experience trauma alone, and go through hardship, well, maybe that’s just her cross to bear. Everybody has an important job to do, and maybe that’s hers. She cares deeply about everything that goes on around her and wants to be a part of it, possibly because her opportunities to act are constantly taken away by forces outside her control.

On the flipside, Aradia operates at a safe distance from everything. She asserts again and again that she’s just an observer. She’s sick of playing a role in the story and has renounced responsibility for any of it. 

- And even though they’re on opposite sides of that coin, they both represent themselves very similarly, through these veneers of cheerfulness and friendliness. Not that they aren’t genuinely both cheerful and friendly people, but there’s just a lot more TO them that they don’t tend to project outwardly. Neither of them ever really lets themself be upset about their lot in life aside from the occasional outburst when somebody manages to REALLY get under their skin. At which point everybody else needs to watch the fuck out.

ANYWAY. I simply think they are Neat™

[fandom-monium]

fuck shit i loved unrivaled but can we please get jealous reader? like maybe everyones on a mission and spencer has to flirt with someone?? the target??? thank you keep doing what you do!! <3

Established Relationship Rivalry

Summary: In which you really don't like Spencer talking to other girls... or assassins. "Shut your mouth, before I do it for you."

WC: 1.8k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, Jealous!Reader, companion piece to Unrivaled but not a sequel, pining (?), fluff and angst(?), established relationships RIVALRY, more reader-centric sorry, ft. Entropy Cat Adams that bitch (derogatory), a darker side of Mysterious!Reader comes to light

⏤

You sit at the bar a few seats down from JJ, watching Spencer at the corner of your eye as he puts on a show of settling into the velvet booth. 

The restaurant is fancy, the kind you take your significant other, or in this case, invite your ‘high end’ date to gain their trust, lure them in. Your vision swims at its dark red scheme and slightly dim lights, but it’s not too much that you don’t notice how good Spencer looks in his new suit, something he’s recently taken up. The blazer’s dark against his light skin, his purple tie is in a lopsided knot, and he even combed his hair a little. 

You sigh. If only you weren’t on the job, you’d stare as much as you’d want. It seems you’re not the only one who’s noticed either, surrounding patrons stealing glances at Spencer despite most of them with company.

You decide suits might be your favorite on him. It’s definitely up there.

But as the wine glass threatens to crack between your fingers, you weigh the possibility that maybe⏤just maybe⏤you should reel in your emotions, because you might actually get yourself kicked off the operation.

Now, you’re not jealous. Seriously.

This isn’t jealousy. Spencer and you aren’t even like that. Like, yeah you care about each other (more than what would be considered platonic), but you’re not together together, and there’s certainly not this weird, unspoken agreement that neither of you are to be ‘involved’ with others. Because that would imply you have feelings. More specifically, non-platonic feelings for someone you’re just not ready to admit to.

Then Catherine Adams enters the arena.

Her strides are short, almost dainty, and if you were a less experienced profiler you’d think that she was a normal woman, shy and awkward as any first date would be.

But you know each footstep is calculated, controlled. A perfected facade built on years of practice.

Other than respecting her abilities, you don’t know how to feel about her. From what little you guys could gather from her file, she is little… psycho.

So no, you’re not jealous. 

You’re not jealous when she exchanges shy smiles with Spencer. 

You’re not jealous when she invades his personal bubble. Or when she gropes him for his gun.

No, this isn’t jealousy that burns in your stomach. Oh no no no.

This is fury, your eyes stinging with barely contained rage. And as you imagine the eight different ways you could amputate Adam’s hands with a butterknife (there’s plenty within arms length, you could reach it), it takes Hotch’s stern voice for you to lower it to a simmer.

“(Your Name), calm down,” he crackles into your earpiece.

Hoping to dissuade from yourself, you cover a sickly sweet smile behind your glass, your canines glinting in the light. “Hotch, please, I’m the epitome of calm and collected.”

“We can literally see your teeth grinding on cams, and if we can see it, Cat Adam’s will too⏤”

You huff.

“Now calm down. You look more like a disgruntled divorcee than a satisfied customer.”

Okay, harsh. You almost reply indignantly before you catch JJ’s gaze, her blue eyes warm with enough understanding that it makes your shoulders relax. As much as you appreciate her, you’re supposed to be strangers in this restaurant. She can’t even mouth to you without giving you both away, blowing your covers⏤

“...tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear.”

⏤cover. Welp. There goes that plan.

Immediately you lower your gaze to the rim of your glass, keeping the bitch in your peripheral as JJ clenches her jaw and slides off her stool, trudging off to the kitchen. It’s a chess match; Cat picks each of you off as if you’re pawns, sacrificial pieces, bait, until the restaurant is clear and Morgan, Lewis, and you remain. Gun raised, you try not to sneer as Lewis cuffs the Bomber’s hands behind her back, leading her and the civilians outside. 

“Guess we’re right back where we started. You and me with a gun,” Adams huffs, her tone betraying nothing. Your anger spikes as she grips Reid like a human shield. “Although, I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you.” She stares across the room at Morgan…and you.

She’s looking directly at you.

You frown. “Do I know you?”

Adams snorts, adjusting Reid in front of her, “No, I guess not. Last time we met was years ago, and you were a whole other person at the time. I barely even recognized you.” Her eyes trail over your figure, and your skin crawls as her lips stretch into a cruel smile. A threat. “But you never forget your first, right?”

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

In the blink of an eye, you pull the hammer of your firearm, its click echoing through the empty restaurant louder than it should have. Your lips pull back in a snarl, “Shut your mouth, before I do it for you.” 

Her response: a cheshire grin in return.

Huh. You hadn’t used that tone in what feels like forever, your voice laced with the promise of silence and death. It doesn’t feel as foreign as you hoped, and the realization wrenches your gut as you pretend not to notice Reid and Morgan’s scrutinizing gaze, eyes full of questions. Questions you really don’t want to answer. Not now.

Preferably not ever.

So you redirect everyone’s attention back to the situation at hand. It takes little prompting, considering Adams is holding a gun to Reid’s face, and it’s not long when Morgan convinces her to surrender. Like a shadow, you trail behind Morgan as Reid hauls her to the prison transport, your eyes burning a hole in the back of her head.

As Reid steps away, as he quietly settles next to you, before Morgan shuts the truck’s double doors Adams catches your eye. Her eyes glisten as her body shudders from hiccups. But she grins at you, wide enough to make your stomach squirm.

You flip her the bird in return.  

For the rest of the night you act natural, keeping your head down. You don’t leave right away, because nothing screams ‘something’s wrong’ than ditching everyone, so you passively agree to check on Garcia despite your grim mood. But at the sight of her, inebriated as she aggressively tells everyone how she loves them⏤loves you⏤you can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across your face (mostly because she’s pinching your cheeks). 

Even if she doesn’t mean to, Garcia manages to brighten your day, and you love her more for that.

After bidding your farewells (swallowing when Morgan shoots you a look that says, ‘this isn’t over’), you walk side by side with Reid, trudging through the tense atmosphere until you realize with a tight chest: he escorted you to your car. For a moment, you both stand at the driver’s side door, a beat of silence passing as you shakily pull out your keys. 

His hands, stuffed in his pockets, clench and unclench as his jaw sets. He’s yet to look you in the eye but you know, and for once you pray⏤to the universe, to whatever deities are out there, to Karma⏤that he’ll let this go, drop the subject. Hopefully never bring it up.

But this is Spencer we’re talking about. He’s your… friend. He’s confused and concerned and he wants to help some way, somehow.

So as you unlock your car, as his lips part, you don’t give him the chance, shoving away your dread. 

“You wanna get dinner?” It comes rushed, fear trickling into your voice. You hope he doesn’t notice. (He does.)

Spencer blinks at you, his mouth agape. “What?”

“It’s just,” You lick your lips, tugging thick air into your lungs as your body screams to run. Your eyes dart from his, looking at the ground, your car, the scuffs on your shoes, and you hate yourself, knowing Spencer notices all of it. “It’s a shame we didn’t get the chance to eat at that expensive restaurant, ya know? It was paid for too.”

Please, don’t ask. Please, don’t ask. 

“...That’s true.” His tone is scarily neutral. 

Looking up, you’re taken aback as he turns away to round the hood of your car to the passenger side door. “What do you think of thai for tonight?” 

You stammer a response, something along the lines of ‘uh⏤yeah, sounds good’ as you clamber into the car after him, fumbling to insert your key into the ignition. Your nerves only worsen by the second as you drive off into the dark, the only sounds coming from the rev of the engine and your heart thundering in your ears. Up ahead the traffic light changes, slowing you to a stop. You glance at Spencer, his purple tie red from the light, his side profile softly outlined in its harsh glow. He remains deathly quiet.

The silent treatment, huh. If he thinks reverse psychology is going to work on you...

He’d be absolutely right. His silence is deafening.

You turn to him, “Spencer⏤”

“You don’t have to.” Your breath catches in your throat, his lips parting and closing as he stumbles for the right words, “I mean, not right now. I-I know this isn’t the best time, but at some point we’re going to have to talk about it. So whenever you’re ready, I⏤” He clears his throat, twisting in his seat and meeting your eyes. His eyes gleam, earnest even in the dark. 

“We’ll be here for you.”

You can’t help gawking at him. Because Spencer’s eyes are inquisitive and kind⏤always have been⏤but right now they’re trained on you, and your face burns as your heart swells. You’re suffocating.

Because you want to tell him⏤all of them.

But fear clutches your heart.

White-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, you face the road again, blinking through unshed tears. “Thank you.”

Spencer nods, relaxing back into his seat. You’re relieved your answer’s enough for now.

The light turns green and you speed off. The grim night turns a little brighter as you fall back into routine with Spencer, the tension slowly lifting, your stomach, once filled with lead, now stuffed with thai food.

You’ll deal with Cat Adams later. She’s behind bars, so you doubt it’ll be anytime soon. You laugh as Spencer curses, soiling another pair of chopsticks when they hit the floor. Yes, you’ll deal with her when you’re ready.

That is, until you’re stopped by another red light.

⏤

AN: no cap i hesitated posting this because i realized after finishing its less of a Spencer Reid x Reader and more a reader-centric. i wanted to establish that reader has a whole backstory sorryyyy i hope yall like it anyway :)))

if you didnt notice, unless stated otherwise almost all my oneshots and FtH are tied together by Mysterious!Reader. yall dont have to but if you read them it helps understand reader better??

[crimsonophelia]

a theory of everything

featuring: albedo x gn!reader

warnings: slight existentialism

published: august 11, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: this is very much so based off of the movie, “a theory of everything”, and if you’ve seen it, you’ll recognize this scene. this is also a continuation of some of those fairytale type headcanons i made some time ago :)

the wind was comfortably warm that day, as mondstadt made its way smoothly from spring into summer. the leaves on the trees had fully regrown after the bitter winter, and some of the summer blossoms had begun to bud on the branches once again. the morning dew on the grass was still fresh, as you and your master, albedo, affectionately known as the city’s kreideprinz, made your way up to starsnatch cliff.

“dont dawdle, [y/n]”, albedo had called out to you, as he proceeded with remarkable speed up the sloped cliff. you tried not to straggle but still couldn’t keep up with your teacher’s speed. “yes, sir”, you called back, suppressing your gasps for air. the altitude certainly thinned out the air, making your surroundings appear as something of an iridescent blur.

he made another few scribbles on his paper before he set down his pen. albedo rotated in his seat to face you, giving you his same composed, flat expression you had come to know so well. "merely what i see."

he made another few scribbles on his paper before he set down his pen. albedo rotated in his seat to face you, giving you his same composed, flat expression you had come to know so well. "merely what i see."

he made another few scribbles on his paper before he set down his pen. albedo rotated in his seat to face you, giving you his same composed, flat expression you had come to know so well. "merely what i see."

you had expected a more in-depth answer, though you supposed your expectations may have been too high. "and what is it that you see?", you pressed further.

he looked at you for a moment, then turned back to face the landscape that he was trying to emulate on paper. "i see thousands of years of rock that has been eroded by waterflow over time. i see water that flows in from the sea. i see a cumulonimbus clouds, with a scattering of cirrus a few miles away." he turned back to face you, almost expectantly.

he was met with a drawn-out groan from you, as you collapsed back onto the grass, disappointed. "why must you be so clinical?" you looked up at the cumulonimbi albedo had pointed out. you suddenly became more aware of their massive size.

"it is a part of my scientific examination, [y/n]", you heard albedo say, as if it was a matter of fact. "to be able to draw something is to be able to understand its physical form and composition." he paused a moment. "not to mention the creation of art is one of the pillars of human existence."

you let out a chuckle, albeit somewhat cynically. classic albedo, the kreideprinz, forever on his scientific quest to decipher the foundations of humanity and teyvat and whatnot. though you had a respect for the study of alchemy and the pursuits of your master, your outlook on the nature of the world was much simpler. the clouds in the sky were indeed collections of vaporized water hovering in the lower atmosphere, but they were also blobs that oddly resembled whopperflowers. some things could not be explained, and for some reason, that was comforting to you.

"well then", you began, in a mood to challenge albedo further. if not to glean knowledge from, what else would he be good for? you chuckled internally at your own precociousness. "do you believe the world was created? or perhaps, it created itself?" you were confident you had stumped him this time.

another silence befell albedo, but he continued his drawing. "i suppose i do not have a definite answer." you congratulated yourself silently. "although", albedo began again, "if my research and observations do not lie, neither teyvat nor celestia could have been formed intelligently. too much chaos, too much inconsistency exists to assume an intelligent creator." he paused for a moment. "that is precisely why alchemy exists. it is a desperate attempt to control the entropy of the world we live in."

a moment passed, until you propped yourself back on your arms, and looked upon your master's back. albedo's blond hair, usually neat and tied back, adorned with a braid, was now unkempt after having been ruffled by the hours of wind that had blown across the cliff you sat atop. "i disagree", you retorted, which clearly got albedo's attention. he put his pen down and swiveled back around to face you, inquisitively.

"pray tell", he replied. "what is your reasoning?"

you cleared your throat with as much self-important pomp as you could muster. "well", you started, looking albedo directly in the eyes. "i don't think such overwhelming beauty could have been created by anything other than an intelligent being!" you gestured wildly to your general surroundings with the passion of an artist showing off their work. "why, just look at the trees over there! and the grass, and the flowers. and the cliffs and ocean! and you, especially you, master albedo." he held your gaze as you spoke. "don't you suppose you are the most beautiful out of them all?"

the sun had extended beyond its peak, as the late afternoon light began to drench the world in a honey-colored light. your eyes looked into albedo’s sapphire ones, yet you couldn’t make out what was transpiring behind them. he was the eternal enigma, you supposed. moreso than the world you both lived in. perhaps your brazen speech had scared him off. giving up, you plopped back down into the grass, once again, staring up at the warm sky. maybe if you made yourself as small as possible, you could pretend nothing had happened. 

that was until you heard the sound of footsteps traipsing across thick grass, light but steady, approaching you. you held your breath unconsciously. a heavy weight sank down gently next to yours, without warning. then, you felt cold fingers softly brush against your own, as they intertwined themselves between your knuckles and held your hand securely. smiling to yourself, you held it back. 

a/n: this is the sweetest thing i’ve written in a while; i really like it :)

[thathopelessromantic]

Reckless Good (1/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Fic Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku

Note: Part of the @tododekubigbang for 2021! I'm super excited to share this AU with everyone. And please check out the awesome compaion art from @cryptidcatgod for chapter six!

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family's history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he'll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x)

Dear Pro-Hero Entropy,

On behalf of Musutafu University, I would like to cordially invite you to be a speaker in our first annual Hero Talks series. We anticipate university students, as well as members of the public from all walks of life, will be interested in hearing from 10 different pro-heroes, over the course of ten-weeks between September and November, as they discuss their experience in the hero industry, the details of their jobs, and the unique quirks they’ve encountered or that helped them in becoming the heroes of today.

I would be extremely grateful if you were willing to share your expertise and be a part of the series. You would be an excellent addition to our program, and our line-up of great heroes that already includes current number one, Pro-Hero Lemillion, the Permeation Hero, and the well-respected, Youthful Heroine Recovery Girl.

Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions. I look forward to hearing from you!

X 

“I think you should do it.”

Shouto pauses with his cup half-way to his mouth as the silence that had fallen over them is finally broken. Momo primly takes a sip of her tea, pointedly avoiding his astonished look.

“…What?”

Momo clears her throat, placing her teacup back on the table and sitting up, somehow, straighter in her chair. Despite the fact that they are in her home, she looks decidedly more uncomfortable than he feels, even by the bizarre direction of their conversation. “I think you should do it. I think it would be a good opportunity for you, Shouto.”

“Have you met me?” he asks incredulously. “There’s nothing ‘good’ about anything that includes me and talking.”

His phone, with the offending email still pulled up on the darkening screen, sits on the table between them. He doesn’t realize he is glaring at it until Momo plucks it up and away from his line of sight. Waking up the screen, she reads over the email again. He doesn’t know why she bothers – they must have poured over it together at least three or four times when he first arrived, dumbfounded by yet another invitation and nearly laughing over the ridiculous concept of him giving a talk on a college campus.

“It’s not like you would have to wing it, it’s still only April now, so the series won’t be taking place until the second term. You would have time to come up with a topic, write a speech, prepare.”

“No one wants to listen to me read from a piece of paper for an hour,” he replies drolly. “And I don’t have anything to talk about that long, anyways.”

It is her turn to stare at him incredulously from across the table. He resists the urge to squirm under the disbelieving look. Finally, Momo sighs, returning his phone to the table.

“I think you underestimate what people would be willing to listen to,” she clears her throat. “You have a unique perspective on the hero industry that very few have, or get to hear about-”

“Because my dad was a dick?”

“Due to being raised by a hero," she continues on, as if he hadn't spoken. "And not just any hero, but someone who was the number two hero for a very long time, and even briefly the number one hero. Very few heroes nowadays have children, and even fewer have children who go on to follow in their footsteps. You’re a legacy.”

“I’m the only one of any of Endeavor’s kids to become a hero. If they wanted to hear about hero family legacies, they should have contacted Iida.”

Momo sighs, rubbing her temples. He’s noticed her doing that around him with increasing frequency these days. “Well I believe they did, actually. And he agreed.”

Shouto leans back in his seat. “Then he can talk all about being a legacy. What would they need to hear from me for?”

Momo is quiet for a very long time. “…Well-”

“No.”

“You brought it up.”

“Not seriously. I’m not going to talk about that.”

“It was just a suggestion. You, your family, have kept things remarkably quiet after it all went down, and I understand wanting to protect your privacy, considering it really is none of their business, but people are always going to have questions. It’s been years since the trial and the media still asks you every year. At least this way, if you talked about it, you could control the narrative.”

Shouto looks away. The setting sun is just out of sight from the dining room window, but it paints the neighbor’s house and the trees along the road a warm orange. The anniversary of the trial, of his father’s fall from grace in the public eye was just a few weeks away, still looming over him, even years after the fact. He has no interest in ‘controlling the narrative.’ He’d rather not think about it at all, actually. But just like every year before, as the date grew closer, the media got more frantic, more invasive.

You would think after more than ten years of radio silence from the Todoroki family they would finally get discouraged, and yet…

Sensing he wasn’t interested in pursuing this topic of conversation any longer, Momo changes tactics, carefully pulling his thoughts from a dangerous spiral. “Or you could have a meeting with the person who invited you. See what topic they had in mind for you.”

Shouto glances at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Well they didn’t just mass invite heroes, the invitations have only gone out to a select few. I’m assuming the coordinator had some idea of what they thought those particular heroes would talk about.” There is a quiet click of her nails against the glass table top as she picks up his phone once more. “You could set up a meeting with him and see what he had in mind. If the topic is something you’re comfortable talking about, wonderful. If not, you can decline the invitation, and all you’ve wasted is an afternoon.”

Something clicks in his head and Shouto sits up again, an idea brewing. He turns his attention back to her. “I still don’t want to give a talk,”

“Shouto-”

“But you have a point. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Momo smiles, but her brows shoot up, a clear indication of her surprise at – and her suspicion over – his quick surrender. “I’m…a little shocked you agree.”

“Well you’d just keep bothering me about it if I didn’t at least talk to him, wouldn’t you?” She glares at him but doesn’t refute the accusation. “But isn’t it just the dean of the school that sent the emails? He’s probably not the sole coordinator.”

“No,” She shakes her head, handing his phone back over. “It says here he’s a professor.”

 Midoriya Izuku, Ph.D.

Professor of Hero and Quirk Studies

Musutafu University

midoriyaizu@mu.edu

X

It takes two days after his talk with Momo for Shouto to get around to even opening the professor’s response to his request for a meeting.

Kyouka watches him suspiciously from where she’s draped over his office chair as he paces in front of his desk. “What’s wrong with you?”

She takes an obnoxious sip of her coffee. The smell has permeated the entire room and it makes something in his stomach curl with longing, but his doctor made it explicitly clear that he was to take an extended break from the drink after letting it serve as breakfast, lunch, and dinner a few too many days in a row. Something more painful than longing – perhaps an ulcer he may or may not have given himself from his liquid diet – twists his stomach.

“Why are you even here?”

Kyouka sighs at his question, her head lolling back as she sinks deeper into the chair. He’s not totally sure what she’s doing. He knows for a fact those chairs aren’t comfortable. His best attempt to keep people from staying in his office longer than absolutely necessary.

“Kyouka?”

She takes another sip of her coffee. He has absolutely no idea how she doesn’t spill it all over herself in that position.

“Momo asked me to talk to you.”

He stops pacing long enough to determine that she’s telling the truth. “…Why?”

“Because she doesn’t think you’ve emailed the professor back about that hero series yet.”

He glances at his computer. At the unread email blinking at the top of his inbox, taunting him. “I’m not saying she’s right…but why does she want you to talk to me about it?”

She swings her legs off the arm of the chair to sit up right and glare at him. “I resent the insinuation that I am not a great candidate for making you get your shit together. But,” she stands up, dropping her cup onto his desk and crossing her arms. Her expression is fierce, but he recognizes the barely-there flush high on her cheeks and the nervous twitch of her earphone jacks. “I was also invited to be a part of the series.”

Shouto stops, sinking into his desk chair. Invitations like this were usually a pain for him. For one, he hated public speaking – or even extended conversations. As one of the top students at U.A., however, and as the son of a well-known hero, he had been getting requests for talks and interviews and special features for years. Most of which he usually ignored, knowing what it was they wanted him to talk about. But he knows an invitation like this can be special. Especially for someone like Kyouka, who doesn’t have particularly strong connections with the hero industry, even after graduating U.A. Her parents’ reputation and her internship with Present Mic made her more of a celebrity in the music industry than a well-known hero, despite all the great work she did.

“Kyouka,” he says quietly, earnestly, so that she pays attention to him. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she replies with a small smile, before her expression changes again. “But shut up, Todoroki. That’s not the point. Momo thinks you’ll be dragging your feet over getting back to the professor. But when she told me about how quickly you agreed, I got a feeling there was something else going on.” She braces her hands on his desk and leans into his personal space, jacks floating threateningly close to his throat. “You were gonna set up that meeting, and then just give him a hard time, weren’t you?”

Shouto freezes, caught. “Uh…”

It’s not exactly an admission, but Kyouka throws her head back and laughs, anyways. “I knew it. We’ve all been waiting for when you finally got fed up and picked a victim. I’m honestly surprised it’s taken this long.”

Shouto doesn’t mean for the quiet, astonished chuckle to slip out, but he supposes if it’s Kyouka, it’s alright. There’s a devilish glint in her eyes as she drops back into her chair.

“So,” she asks. “What are you waiting for?”

“You’re really not going to stop me?”

“We’re public figures, the media has never been interested in respecting our privacy, but we’ve all spent years watching you get hounded over your parents’ divorce and your father’s trial. If this is just another asshole trying to get a scoop, or recognition for finally getting you to spill, he deserves it. Everyone would agree. Well…Tenya and Momo might frown at your approach, but I still think they’d support the general idea. And well,” she shrugs. “If he is just an asshole, all the better for the rest of us to know now so we don’t support what he’s trying to do.”

He hesitates, mouse hovering over the professor’s email. “Are you sure?”

She scowls, though there isn’t any heat behind it. “If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t say it.” She comes around the desk to stand behind him. “Now hurry up, I have a patrol to get to.”

Reaching down, she opens the email before he can react.

Thank you so much for your interest! Of course we can meet to discuss the details of the series more. Below are my office hours when I will be on the Musutafu University campus. If you are not available for any of those times, please let me know when would work best for you and we can plan a meeting then.

Kyouka leans over his shoulder to read the email.

“Tuesday’s your day off next week, right?”

Shouto rolls his eyes but opens a new draft to reply.

Kyouka grins. “Good boy. I will report your excellent behavior to Momo.” She ruffles his hair before heading for the door, grabbing her coffee cup off his desk as she goes.

“Fuck off.”

She tosses her head back and laughs again. “Give ‘em hell.”

X

They make plans to meet in a few days, when Shouto has some time off, and the professor forwards his office room number and three different maps of campus “just in case.” Which Shouto found ridiculous….at the time.

Now he’s here, and has been wandering around for God knows how long. It takes approximately ten minutes for Shouto to admit he’s lost, and another five minutes for him to get frustrated over still being lost. He wasn’t sure what to expect of the university campus, but, clearly, he did not prepare enough in advance. The large, sprawling buildings remind him of U.A.’s campus, but rather than extra training grounds, the spaces between are grassy plots filled with students relaxing under the shade of trees or soaking up the sun on blankets. Instead of practicing hand-to-hand, the students sit in clusters pouring over textbooks or typing away on laptops. And they, of course, all appear perfectly at home amongst the labyrinth of lecture halls.

The paved plaza in the middle of all the activity hosts a large fountain and a statue of a man with large, curling horns coming from his temples that Shouto assumes has some kind of importance to the school, but that he doesn’t recognize.

He forwent his hero-suit for jeans, a button-up, and a leather jacket – in addition to sunglasses, a mask, and a baseball cap. The clothing seemed to blend in well enough with the other students, if not a tad understated, but his distinct hair and scar are not so easily hidden and soon enough he notices students staring, following his movements back and forth across campus or whispering amongst themselves.

Eventually, a few brave students manage to catch him as he is trying to reorient himself. Again.

“Um, excuse me, are you pro-hero Entropy?” a girl asks. Two friends flank her, staring with wide eyes.

Caught, he pulls down his mask. “Ah, yes. Hello.”

“Oh my gosh! Hi-Hello, I’m wow…I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s really great to meet you!”

“Are you here about the Hero Talks series!?” one of her friends asks suddenly, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth after the loud outburst.

Well…they aren’t wrong, and maybe they can help him. “It’s…something like that.” He agrees carefully.

The three light up with smiles, two of them jumping up and down in excitement.

“Dr. Midoriya is going to be so excited, oh my gosh!”

“You know the professor?”

All three nod excitedly. “We’re all in his Intro to Combat Analysis lecture! He’s been gushing about this series since he got permission last semester!” the third student finally chimes in.

Perfect. “Do you know where I could find his office? I’m supposed to be meeting with him, but I’ve gotten a little turned around.”

The three jump to help direct him to the right building, gushing all the while over the professor and his classes. By the time they finally part ways, Shouto feels a little guilty about his plan to give the professor a piece of his mind over the whole thing and misleading them about his intention to join the series. They were nice girls after all.

Someone bumps into him before he reaches the building, sending him stumbling off the sidewalk.

“I’m so sorry,” a bright voice calls, gently pulling Shouto back onto the pavement. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you alright?”

Large, bright green eyes behind thin, wire-framed glasses give him a quick once-over, as if looking for injuries. The man meets his gaze through his sunglasses for a moment before glancing down at his wrist watch again. Somehow, he feels even more dazed meeting the man’s eyes than simply being booted off the sidewalk.

“…yes I’m fine, thank you.”

The man gives him a dazzling smile, flashing one dimple and further accentuating the smattering of freckles over his cheeks. “Good, good. Sorry again.” With a quick bow, the man is on his way again and headed into the building before them. The same building Shouto was headed.

Shaking off the strange feeling left behind, he waits a few moments, so as not to appear as if he was following the bright-eyed man, and goes inside. Along the wall there are signs directing visitors to particular room numbers or restrooms, and a bulletin board nearly as long as the wall is tall, full of posters advertising events happening around campus, and Musutafu, as well as ads looking for roommates or a reminder about signing up for a study abroad program. Right in the corner, as if attached as an after-thought, or a secret, there’s a small, handwritten flyer declaring the First Annual Hero Talks series could be counted as credits for Quirk or Hero Study students looking for an independent study if they met with Dr. Mirdoriya before the end of the term. Shouto almost takes the flyer before he realizes, realistically, that the students who might be interested in such a thing would probably benefit from it more than his brief curiosity needed to be sated.

Turning from the wall, he sets out for the stairs. The students instructed him to take the staircase on the far end of the east hall (the closest to the professor’s office, supposedly), to the third floor, where the professor’s office would be the third door on the left.

Midoriya Izuku is written clearly on a small sign hanging outside of the office. A small box sits under it, stuffed full of papers and folders that Shouto assumes are from students. The professor’s half-open door is covered in colorful posters and stickers – including, Shouto realizes, another copy of the flyer about the series and a poster of him, Pro-Hero Entropy, from his debut year. He looks away from his younger self and knocks on the door.

“Dr. Midoriya?” he calls, poking his head into the office.

The first thing he notices is that the hero-memorabilia on the door has absolutely nothing on what’s inside the office. More posters cover the entire front of the professor’s desk, and from the looks of it the top of his computer. Mixed between dozens of books on the shelves and filing cabinets filling two of the four walls are hero-figurines and framed pictures of heroes or preserved comic books. Even more posters and framed pictures cover the rest of the walls.

The second thing he notices, is that the broad-shouldered man dropping a beat-up, leather satchel to the ground besides the desk, is the same man who ran into him outside.

Dr. Midoriya whirls around, greeting him with another 100-watt smile. “Ah yes! Hello- oh! It’s you.”

“Ah, yes.” Shouto shuffles a little further into the office, he pulls his mask down under his chin and takes his sunglasses off, tucking them into the collar of his shirt. After a second's thought, he pulls off his cap as well, shoving the bill into his back pocket.

Dr. Midoriya’s jaw drops, his eyes comically wide, for approximately three seconds, before he comes back into himself, steeling his expression. His hands flutter nervously around his head for a moment and then he smiles again.

“Entropy! Welcome! I’m so sorry I did not recognize you before. Please, come in. Take a seat. Did you find your way through campus alright?”

Shouto gives a small bow, mumbling a thank you, as he comes further into the office to sit in one of the two small chairs before the desk. A poster of some of his old classmates is hung at knee-level, and even on paper, Momo's serious expression is judging him. Kyouka is egging him on.

Dr. Midoriya still stands behind his desk, staring at Shouto like he’s not sure what to make of him sitting in his office.

“Uh…Dr. Midoriya?”

The professor snaps back to life. “Yes! Sorry, sorry,” he sits down finally, pulling off his glasses and putting them to the side. “Welcome, again, to Musutafu University. And thank you for taking some time out of your busy schedule to consider our series! I really can’t tell you how thrilled I was to get your email.”

Shouto shifts in his seat. The professor talks with his hands, and every movement seems to pull the beige-colored cardigan he’s wearing even tighter around his biceps. Shouto isn’t usually one to speculate about others’ quirks unless in a fight, but he wonders now if the professor has some kind of strength-augmenting quirk – and if he does, how adept is he at using it if Shouto pisses him off? The potential of getting his ass kicked has never stopped Shouto before, but he can already hear the lecture he’d get from Momo, and probably Fuyumi, if he made the news for destroying a college building in a fight with a civilian professor.

Honestly, the property damage would probably be the least of their worries if he starts fighting with civilians.

“I know you don’t normally work with the media or make non-heroic work public appearances so I figured it was a long shot for you to even consider being a part of the series, but I really think you would make an amazing feature.”

Shouto shifts in his seat. Here it comes, he thinks. He really should have prepared what exactly he was going to say more, but he figured it would just come to him in the moment. Now, for some reason, he’s nervous. As if he would accidentally agree or something else equally absurd.

How this sweater had contained the man’s arms so far was a miracle, honestly.  

“…but quirks are mutating, or rather evolving, at an astonishing rate. Every generation we see quirks getting stronger than those of previous generations but more and more we are now seeing children with quirks that have little to no relation to their parent’s quirks, or a manifestation of some kind of combination of quirks. You gained attention early on for being one of the first heroes, or even hero-in-training, to have multiple quirks.

“Now that it’s becoming more common, hearing first hand from someone who has had to learn how to control and gain mastery over two separate quirks would be invaluable information, especially for many quirk-study students who will be working with parents and children who are going through this for the first time, and for those who may have some form of a combination quirk but did not have the benefit of a hero-course education that could teach them proper control.”

Wait…what?

“What?”

Dr. Midoriya startles, glancing between Shouto and something unseen in the air around him. “Oh…” he winces. “I’m sorry. Was I mumbling again? I apologize, sometimes my brain works faster than my mouth and I get carried away, where did I…never mind, I’ll start again…slower. So, when quirks first appeared-”

Shouto holds up a hand to stop the professor and his jaw snaps shut with an audible click. “You want me to talk about my quirk?”

“…Yes?”

“Not…my family?”

Dr. Midoriya lowers his arms to the top of his desk, folding his hands together. Shouto thinks it might be the first time he has seen him completely still since they first ran into each other outside.

Now that they’re closer, and his hands aren’t moving, Shouto can also see surprisingly large scars running over the professor’s fingers and onto the backs of his hands. Those definitely don’t look like something you would get as a teacher. At least not as a normal, non-hero course teacher.

“Do you want to talk about your family?”

He shifts awkwardly in his seat. The professor’s serious attention directed all at him is suddenly unnerving somehow. “Well, no, I don’t.”

Dr. Midoriya nods, once. “Okay.” A pause. “Honestly, I was surprised to even hear you ask, I hadn’t considered broaching the topic for something like this.”

“You didn’t?” he asks incredulously.

Dr. Midoriya pins him with an expression he can’t interpret but inexplicably reminds him of Aizawa back in high school when he was frustrated with students or a lesson or even a fellow teacher. Especially All Might.

“Entropy, you have made it very clear in the past that you have no interest in talking about what happened to your family publicly. And that is your right. No one is owed anything about your personal life. If you suddenly decided you wanted to talk about what happened, and you wanted to use the Hero Talks series as your platform, you would be more than welcome to do so. Honestly, the publicity from that one lecture alone would probably be enough to guarantee the university allowing this series again in the future. But that is not why I asked you to be a part of it. You want to keep your private affairs private, and I respect that. I picked heroes who I knew the public would be interested in hearing from, but also who would have the most helpful information to offer to the students who are studying these topics, and, frankly, they would learn far more hearing about your quirk than your…homelife.”

“I…I wouldn’t know what to talk about.” Shouto admits awkwardly.

Dr. Midoriya smiles softly. “That’s okay. I can give you some general topics to consider, or more specific questions to think about as main points if that would be more helpful. Let me see…” he turns around in his chair, shifting to the side, and Shouto can see the shelves just under the view of the desk are stuffed full of identical notebooks, each with a carefully penned number on the binding. The professor pulls one out and flips through it. Almost every page is crammed with scrawling handwriting, some written sideways or upside down, squeezed into every blank space he could find. The slightly-less busy pages have drawings of heroes or costumes or diagrams Shouto can’t interpret from the quick, upside-down glance he gets of them.

From his seat Shouto could see there were, at least, two shelves of these notebooks. Were they all like that?

Finally, the professor finds what he’s looking for with a satisfied hum. He sets the notebook on the desk, turning it so Shouto can see. The page is marginally less chaotic than others he saw. At the top, in surprisingly neat handwriting and underlined three times, it reads: Questions for Multiple-Quirk Usage (Entropy).

The rest of the page is made up of dozens of questions about his quirk. Some, Shouto imagines, are just general questions for anyone with multiple quirks to consider (Do you activate both quirks the same way?  Can you use them both simultaneously?) and get progressively tailored to questions about his quirk, like if there are places he can’t use one quirk or the other and the temperature ranges of his fire and ice, if particular environmental factors affect his ability to use either of them.

“Uh…”

Dr. Midoriya scratches the back of his head sheepishly. He hides a nervous laugh with a cough before taking the notebook back and closing it. The light isn’t strong in the office, but Shouto is positive the professor is blushing.

“Of course, if a list of topics or questions is something you would be interested in, I can provide you with a neater – and shorter – list. This was just a-a demonstration that there is a lot to consider when it comes to multiple quirks. Of course, not all of that would be relevant for a lecture, and admittedly some are just personal curiosities, but…anyways,” he clears his throat. “I’m assuming if you came here thinking I was going to ask about your family…you don’t actually want to be a part of the series.”

Shouto crosses his arms over his chest, sitting back in his chair. Does he want to be a part of a public lecture series? No. But now he is undeniably curious about this professor and how the hell his brain works.

“Do you have a notebook page like that for every hero?”

“Every hero? That would be impossible…well maybe not impossible-” Shouto raises a brow and the professor bites his tongue. “Maybe…most Japanese heroes since…early Silver Age and well-known international heroes? And any American heroes who would have overlapped with All Might’s time either learning or working in America.”

“How long have you been making those?”

He looks down a little wistfully at the question, thumbing gently at the corner of the page. “I was probably four or five when I started my first one,” he admits with a quiet laugh. “None that are here are quite that old, though.”

Shouto has…so many questions.

There’s a quiet buzz of the professor’s phone going off. He excuses himself for a moment and pulls the cell out of his pocket. His case has the design of All Might’s Golden Age costume.

“I’m sorry, Entropy, I have another meeting and I teach a class after so I can’t talk much longer today.”

“I should be getting going anyways.” Shouto says, standing up and Dr. Midoriya shoots out of his chair.

“Right, yes, of course. I’m sorry we probably took up more of your time than you meant to. Thank you for coming in, it was an honor to speak with you.”

Shouto feels like “honor” is a bit much, he didn’t really even say much at all, and he came here with rather rude intentions but, he doesn’t really know how to argue with the professor’s enthusiasm.

His brain and his good sense, and the small bit of self-preservation he has left, all tell him to keep going, to accept the professor’s gracious dismissal and move on, but he finds himself hesitating in the doorway anyways.

“Uh…Entropy? Is everything alright?” Dr. Midoriya asks, looking at him curiously.

Oh hell.

“If you send me the list, of topics…I’ll think about it.”

Dr. Midoriya’s entire being lights up. “Really?”

Oh, he was really going to regret this.

“…Yes.”

“Thank you! I will forward it to you right away!” He drops into a bow so deep, so quickly, he slams his head into the top of the desk.

Both of them freeze at the resounding crack that echoes in the small room. Shouto takes a step back into the office, already reaching for the professor.

“Are you alright?”

Dr. Midoriya straightens, looking a little dazed but mostly just embarrassed. There’s a bright red mark on his forehead. “Oh my God.” He whispers.

Shouto is surprised, and a little ashamed, by how hard it is to keep himself from laughing at the horrified expression. “Dr. Midoriya, are you-”

The desk gives a sudden, heaving creak and tips sideways. The two watch helplessly as the desk collapses, sending the clutter on top flying across the floor.

Dr. Midoriya makes a strangled noise, covering his face with his hands. “Not again.”

Again?

There are rushed footsteps outside and a young woman with six eyes and lavender hair piled in a high bun peeks her head in through the half-open door. “Dr. Midoriya, did you break something again?”

“I’m sorry Kobayashi.” He bows his head again, though not nearly as low this time, and keeps his face covered.

Kobayashi tuts disapprovingly. “I’ll call for another,” she says, already turning on her heel to leave.

“Thank you, Kobayashi.”

Shouto bends down to gather some of the papers that scattered around his feet. Dr. Midoriya lowers his hands, immediately stumbling over the mess when he sees Shouto cleaning.

“Please Entropy, thank you, but that’s not necessary.”

“It’s fine,” he waves off the worries. “Where would you like these things?”

“Uh,” Dr. Midoriya looks around the office for a moment. “Here, thank you.” Taking the papers from him he makes a neat pile on his un-damaged desk chair.

It’s quick work for the two of them to straighten up the rest of the room, though the professor takes a moment to mourn his cracked eyeglasses, and then again when he realizes some of the posters were damaged by the desk’s fall.

“Thank you again, Entropy. I’m so sorry about all the trouble.”

“It’s…fine.” Shouto says dumbly. “Well I should…go, now.”

“Yes, of course! I’m sorry about taking up even more of your time. Thank you for coming in.”

Before Shouto can reply, two new people arrive, knocking once before they shuffle into the office. Shouto moves further into the room, out of the way, as they collect the broken desk and carry it out of the room.

For a moment, they stand in silence, Shouto coming up with about a hundred more questions about the professor, while Dr. Midoriya stands nearby, twisting his hands together in embarrassment. Finally, his common-sense kicks in enough that after another short good-bye, Shouto manages to walk himself out of the office and down the stairs without doing anything else stupid or impulsive.

He passes someone on his way to the doors, so focused on getting out of the building that he doesn’t notice until they call his name.

He recognizes the wild purple hair and slouched stance of the man approaching him, but nearly dismisses the similarities on principle.

“Shinso? Since when do you come out while the sun’s still up?” He asks.

Ignoring the jab, Shinso pulls off a pair of sunglasses and looks him up and down. Despite also being a part of U.A.’s hero course in high school, Shinso promptly went underground after graduation and has been working in the shadows long enough that only some other pros and hardcore hero-fans are able to recognize him out of costume. “What are you doing here?”

“I was…I had a meeting with a professor,” he admits.

Shouto doesn’t know Shinso well, but he swears he looks surprised by the admission.

And then he laughs. “I can’t believe he actually did it. Good for him.”

Shouto isn’t totally sure he heard him correctly, but when he asks, Shinso makes an expression he can’t figure out and changes the subject.

“I’ll see you later, Todoroki.” He says with a wave.                                                                         

Shouto waves back, unsure of what to make of the interaction, and watches as Shinso disappears up the same stairs he just descended.

Shoving the strange interaction out of his head, he pushes open the doors and steps outside.

Then he calls Kyouka.

She picks up after two rings. “Did you make him cry?”

He can hear Momo scold her from the background.

“No, but I think I fucked up.”

Kyouka is quiet for a moment but based on the noise he hears in the background, he thinks she’s moving further away from Momo. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter. “Fucked up how? Like news crews are coming to report the damage and you might be going to jail for beating up an old, civilian professor-fucked up?”

Faintly, Shouto wonders what it says about him that both he and Kyouka assumed the worst-case scenario for this meeting was him fighting with a civilian.

“No, fucked up like…I didn’t tell him ‘no’?”

[melonsmessymusings]

Preventing ‘Dark Willow’

This essay is based off an argument with my brother a long time ago. The question is if Giles staying in Sunnydale in S6 would have prevented Darth Rosenberg. There are many thoughts on this, but I’ve probably put my foot in my mouth as per usual and made a mess. 

No. Giles staying in S6 would not have prevented Willow from being a magic junkie. 

Throughout the show, magic is used as a metaphor for drugs and sex, albeit ham-handedly. In this case, it’s about drugs. With this in mind, let’s focus firstly on Willow. From as early as S1, Willow expressed an interest in learning magic. Her relationship with Jenny Calendar and her Technopagan badassery led to her forming what seemed at first to be a harmless interest in magic and Paganism. Towards the end of S2 in I Only Have Eyes For You, Willow admits to Giles: “I found loads of websites and stuff on paganism and magic... it’s really interesting.” which demonstrates her interest may be a little more than purely ‘educational fun’.

Her first taste of powerful magicks was restoring Angel’s soul at the end of S2. In Becoming Part 1, Giles warns Willow of the consequences of such mystical forces: “Channelling such potent magicks through yourself… it may open a door you won’t be able to close.” The Passion of the Nerd touched upon it briefly and explained the choice of phrasing is especially key here. It’s not as simple as a one-off spell that has no ramifications, the nature of the Soul Restoration uses a kind of magic that will stay with the caster forever. It leaves a mark. As we know, Willow does the spell anyway after waking up from a coma (don’t even go there) and successfully restores Angel’s soul. This is how her addiction started and it is the ONLY explicitly direct warning of the impact caused by using magicks that Giles gives her.

In Faith, Hope and Trick, Willow tries to persuade Giles to let her help him with the ‘spell’ to bind Acathla and lets slip that she knows more about the black arts than she’d originally led him to believe. There’s an interesting bit of dialogue between the two:

WILLOW: Are you mad at me?

GILES: No, of course not, no.

It’s obvious that Giles is anxious about this but because of his well-established role and priorities at this point, he’s not going to dwell on it too much, despite it being a genuine concern. Later in the episode, Willow also says, “Giles, I know you don’t like me messing with mystical forces…” so it has evidently been the topic of discussion previously. In Gingerbread, Willow is messing with magic again trying to make a protection spell for Buffy. The symbol used by Willow, Amy and that other kid is one commonly associated with human sacrifices according to Giles. The Black Arts. Even if that isn’t the spell they were casting, the symbol had other less pleasant implications. And so, it continues. By S4, Willow is doing much more than floating a pencil, progressing alarmingly quickly and becoming highly proficient by the end of the season. Giles reminds her of the dangers of magic subtly, “I don’t think it’s wise for you to be attempting spells, your energy is too unfocused” and Willow is still doing magic that is both powerful and harmful enough to have caught the attention of D’Hoffryn, Lord of the Vengeance Demons despite his apprehensions.

In S5 we get a first look at ‘Dark Willow’, when Tara gets brain sucked by Glory. There’s no way the whole gang didn’t know about that. Not a chance. Yet oddly, it’s never mentioned? Obviously, the writers had other priorities with the main plot and Glory etc. but it was criminally neglected. Willow used extremely dangerous dark magicks to go after Glory for hurting Tara at incredible risk to herself and the others who ended up having to rescue her. Justifiable or not, her actions were a reckless abuse of power that very nearly had fatal consequences. How any of them just let it slide without so much as a comment is infuriating. In The Weight of The World, Giles says to Xander, “It’s extraordinarily advanced” when he learns that Willow is trying to enter Buffy’s mind yet again, concerned. Also, we start to see the black eyes when Willow attempts more advanced spells, like teleporting Glory away in Blood Ties, or casting the protective wards in Spiral so it can be theorised that the magicks Willow evokes are steadily darkening.

Roll on S6. Set after Buffy’s death, a huge trauma for all the characters. Willow raising Buffy is evidently a massive achievement from her perspective. She considers herself to be a God. In Flooded, she gets the gut-punch from Giles that he is not in fact pleased with her at all. She’d expected him to be “impressed or something” which he was, but in the wrong ways.

GILES: The magicks you channelled are more ferocious and primal than anything you can hope to understand, and you are lucky to be alive you rank, arrogant amateur!

He blames himself for not stopping her, and rightfully so... to an extent. He failed to provide her with proper guidance or even show an interest in the types of magic that she was engaging with. If he had done so at an earlier stage, then perhaps Willow would not have taken things as far as she did. One interpretation of the argument in Flooded is that Giles is lashing out at Willow because he’s frightened. Most likely for Willow instead of Willow herself. He makes a point of saying that she was “the one [I] trusted most to respect the forces of nature” and bringing Buffy back defies the laws of nature. She had no respect for these forces, bending them to her will which is a scary concept. The argument that the Scoobies were selfish for bringing Buffy back notwithstanding, Willow was the one that actually performed the spell, hell bent in succeeding. That horrifies Giles and if anything, is a wakeup call for him to pull his head out of the sand and deal with this seriously. Willow meanwhile doesn’t want to hear a word of it, pacifying him instead of actually understanding the implications of her actions and listening to anything beyond his anger. There’s a lot that could be dissected in this scene but that’s unnecessary at this moment.

Magic is also the primary factor that caused Willow and Tara to split up at the end of Tabula Rasa. Tara had brought her concerns to Willow as early as Tough Love, saying that she was ‘scared’ about how powerful Willow was getting. When Tara tried to explain why she felt this way, Willow refused to listen. Every single time that Tara raised a concern about Willow’s use of magic, Willow either ignored it or reassured her that it was fine, and she was totally in control. But Willow has a history of altering people and their actions to suit her. She attempted to do so in Lover’s Walk by casting a spell on Xander to stop them having feelings for each other. Again, in Something Blue, while unaware of the effects of the spell, she still made the conscious choice to use magic to ‘have her will be done’. She ended up hurting her friends, however unintentionally. Then in S6 when Tara and Willow are arguing about magic, instead of having a proper conversation, Willow uses the Lethe’s Bramble to make Tara forget they were even arguing. A direct invasion of her mind. And Willow didn’t show any indication that she thought it was wrong. Barely two episodes later, Willow then used a spell which caused everyone to forget who they are after promising Tara that she would go a week without using magic. It’s no surprise that Tara wanted to break up.

Willow does get ‘clean’ by Entropy. Subsequently Tara comes back, and it all seems to go well until the brutal, vicious, non-sensical murder that causes Willow to launch herself back into the dark magicks stating, “I’m not coming back.” Only then does Giles do something about it. Only then does he take it upon himself to step up and realise that he has failed her, by which point it was far too late and resulted in her very nearly killing him, a price he deemed a suitable penance for his neglect.

But NOT ONCE prior to this did Giles intervene. He had the resources and was capable of it, and not once did he sit her down properly and say, “Willow, I think we need to talk about your use of magic because I’m a tad concerned.” Even after resurrecting Buffy, he only chastises her for her recklessness, he doesn’t actively do anything beyond this except a few powerful glares. He is watching her make all the mistakes he made as a young rapscallion and doing nothing about it. Then in S7, he fulfils the mentor role to her and helps keep on track of her recovery, an older addict helping the younger. It just highlights that he could have helped her sooner before it was out of control.

This comes back to Giles’ basic structure as a character. He’s a Watcher, the mentor to the Slayer. His purpose is to be in Sunnydale for Buffy. His whole life is revolved around Buffy, she is factored into every single one of his decisions. He never signed up to be the ‘father-figure’, despite appearing to adopt that role very quickly. He never signed up to care for Xander and Willow, he isn’t the Watcher of them. He has never given any indication that he wants that responsibility, and it shouldn’t fall to him to care for a group of random teenagers. It’s this fundamental construction of Giles’ character that means that he’s borderline dependant on Buffy, which isn’t her fault at all. He sacrifices everything, even parts of himself for her and most of the time gets nothing in return. The point is that Giles is so busy being a Watcher that he can’t think of anything else. It’s not necessarily his fault, that’s exactly how he was trained, and arguably after the whole Eyghon debacle, it’s unlikely that he ever truly had faith in his judgement again. Remember when Giles put Buffy before Jenny, the woman he loves? Buffy comes first, always because the mission is what matters.

On a more speculative note, Giles was aware of Willow’s obsession with magic and didn’t know what to do, instead choosing to believe that he wanted to help her, but he didn’t trust himself to teach her the control she needed. It does narratively fit for Giles to be reluctant to help Willow learn the magicks given his past. However, he neglected her and is at least partially to blame for Willow becoming a magic junkie. He had every opportunity over YEARS to step in and offer her a proper education. He had the skills and if he were hesitant, certainly had the connections to find someone who would teach Willow properly, e.g., the Coven in Devon. The audience is acutely aware after The Dark Age that Giles has a history of abusing dark magic. Note that throughout the series, he does not actually use that much magic himself. This abuse led to Giles having to murder one of his friends among whatever else he and his ‘friends’ got up to, which means he knows full well the ramifications of messing with that kind of power and doesn’t want to go down that rabbit hole again. Magic is an addiction and he’s a recovering addict.

Equally, Willow never asked Giles for help. It’s all very well blaming him for being negligent and grossly irresponsible, but she didn’t ask him to teach her. She didn’t ask him for guidance or whatever, at least not memorably. Assume that he did help her. That he trained her and gave her a proper education in the magicks. There’s no guarantee that any of that would have prevented Willow from taking it too far. Willow has an addictive personality and therefore it makes logical sense for her to become addicted to magic. Ultimately, Giles could have spent years training her, but he can’t make decisions for her, nor does he wish to. Willow is her own person, a bright, capable young woman who is an adult. He cannot push her to do anything and it’s not in his nature to do so. Dark Willow is an inevitability in a sense.

Essentially while Giles staying in Sunnydale would’ve been preferable on a personal level, it would have made very little difference as to whether Willow would abuse the magicks. She’d already done so on countless occasions with no intervention therefore he likely wouldn’t have interfered until it was too little too late. It’s not that he doesn’t care for Willow, but he had other priorities, right or wrong. Should he have helped her? Absolutely. But it takes two to Tango...

[tired-college-student-writing]

Tim’s Secret Weapon pt. 11

I’ve been slightly obsessed with @ozmav​ ‘s Damian Wayne/Marinette Dupain-Cheng pairing as of late, and just saw a post that has inspired me more than anything else has in months, so I felt the need to write it

Summary- Tim has always seen the numbers floating above people’s heads, been able to perceive their threat levels with a single glance. After being a hero for so long he thought he was desensitized to seeing high numbers above people’s heads until Damian brings a new friend home. 

Part 1 

Part 10 

Part 11(HERE)

Part 12 

____________________________________________

“How can they be gone?” Tim whispered into the silence, trying to focus on anything other than the blank spaces and the stabbing pain behind his eyes. 

His numbers, the one thing that had stuck by him through everything. They had allowed him to understand the world around him as he was left behind and abandoned, time and time again. The ability that gave him the freedom of the world, the confidence to face the Batman down and demand to be allowed to fight at his side. The power that allowed him to find a family when every other person in his life had decided that he wasn’t worth the effort. 

And now they were gone. 

His family was frozen around him, fear and confusion pouring off of them. They didn’t know his attachment to his power, didn’t understand the depth of how ingrained his power was to him but they had each experienced the loss of a sense before, or a limb. It was jarring and painful and there wasn’t a lot they could do to help. 

“Take it off,” Damian said, already going to pull off the choker he wore, having not given the transformation phrase yet, “The miraculous, the transformation must have done something. Get it off now.” 

His hand shook as he tried to grasp the edge of the glasses, only for a firm hand to wrap around his wrist and pull it away. 

“Wait,” Marinette broke in, kneeling down in front of him, “Tim can you get us back to the hotel, you need to open a portal. Picture the hotel, and call for Voyage.” 

Tim blinked away the spots starting to form in his vision, what was happening, “Voy…age?” 

Max appeared in his line of sight, fear swimming behind the firm determination set in his face “Voyage, picture the hotel, picture Alfred and the sitting room, if coordinates would help you then we can get them for you. You’re the only one that can get us back right now. Can you do that for us?” 

He tried to nod but only groaned as the world spun, “Okay. I think I can… Think I can do it…Voyage!”  

The magic swirling around him as he thought back to the hotel made him nearly double over as the pain spiked, his stomach churning from the intense pressure. 

“Point at a wall,” Max soothed, “It will be over soon. We need to get you back to the hotel.” 

The world tilts as he lifts his arm and suddenly Alfred appears in his vision, surrounded by a blue light that seemed to pulse in sync with the pain in his skull.

His vision swam. 

“Get him to the bathroom now,” Marinette orders Bruce and Tim felt himself being lifted and carried, clutching the front of his father figure’s suit like he was an itty bitty Robin again, hurt enough to make Bruce fuss over them, or merely having dozed off on a stake off again. He’d been embarrassed to be carried like this again in front of his brothers if his skull didn’t feel like it had been caved in by Harley’s mallet, and injected with a bad batch of Poison Ivy’s latest experiment. 

He’s removed from Bruce’s chest, and he can vaguely hear the man protesting as he’s pulled away. 

“This is going to be unpleasant,” Someone tells him, even if it sounds like it’s from a mile away through a damp sewer, before the glasses are pulled from his face and he’s lurching forward to bury his face in the toilet he had apparently been set in front of, stomach finally losing the battle to keep his dinner down. 

Slowly his stomach calmed down and the pounding dulled down to an ache. He was able to stop dry heaving and became aware of the pair of hands rubbing his back. Taking some calming breaths to calm down how much his body was trembling he glanced to see Ladybug, still suited up, kneeling to his left, and to his left was Nightwing in full gear, worry and concern edged deep into his features.

“Oh thank god,” Tim breathed, resting his temple against the cool porcelain. Over Dick’s head was the ever familiar royal blue 10. 

“Powers back online?” Marinette asked worry etched on her face only to sigh in relief when he gave a slight nod, “I hoped so. I’m so sorry Tim.” 

“What the hell was that?” He heard Dick hiss. 

He could almost feel Marinette grimace, “Some people have a negative reaction to certain miraculous, but that’s usually only if they have a strong connection to one of the other miraculous that is incompatible with the one they’re trying on, such as the Bee attempting to wield the Snake or the Fox taking up the Monkey. None of you had a strong connection with any of the miraculous in the box though so I wasn’t expecting this, maybe a mild one if you chose a miraculous not suited for you, but nothing like this! I’ve never seen a reaction this bad… I guess I didn’t take Tim’s power into consideration. ”  

“I hate magic,” Tim groaned but took the glass of water Damian offered, and sipped it lightly, before allowing Dick to pull him to his feet. 

“That’s fair,” Chloe called from the main room, “But can any of you convince your dad to use my power so I can have Pollen back.”

“Bruce?” Tim asked with a scrunched brow as he leaned out of the bathroom, fearing that his stomach might try a second rebellion. 

The man was clearly uncomfortable, standing stiffly against the wall next to the door, though his jaw unclenched when he saw Tim reappear, “The bee power allows the user to completely freeze voluntary movements of the victim for an indefinite amount of time.”  

A shiver went up the Bats spine, Damien especially had an uncomfortable look on his face as they realized why this would bother Bruce so much. No matter how much the boy loved his mother, the matters of his creation were inexcusable. 

“It’ll keep the target immobilized until you detransform,” Chloe offered, eyes softening slightly, “So sting someone and then use the detransformation phrase, ‘Pollen Buzz Off’. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Bruce nodded stiffly, even though his breathing became overly controlled as the energy pulsed off of the stinger. He was gentle as he nudged the needle into Chloe’s bared arm but seemed to stop breathing as the girl froze. 

“Pollen Buzz off,” Bruce rushes out letting the power fall away and doesn’t relax until Chloe unfreezes. 

“See,” She offered, holding out a hand for her kwami to rest on, “Everything is fine.” 

“You were right,” He relented, removing the comb from his cowl, “I apologize for-”  

The blonde shook her head, “Don’t be ridiculous. You obviously have some reason to hate my power and I don’t blame you. Any miraculous power in the wrong hands is frightening, after all. I’m terrified of the Peacock but I doubt you’d ever fear for your life against Alfred, with or without the power to create sentient life from nothing. Don’t share your trauma with us over that.” 

The man merely nodded, pulling off his cowl to give her a soft, respecting smile. 

“Jason next,” Adrien offered, “Luckily Cataclysm is a bit more versatile.” 

Jason grimaced glancing down at his poisonous looking claws, “Destroy anything I touch?”  

“Try not to think about it too much,” The blond grimaced, “Call for Cataclysm and the first thing you touch with the energy will be destroyed. It can be... overwhelming if you think about too much.” 

The man scowled at the claws, but it’s Damien that voices the thought bouncing around the Bats’ heads “Cloaked in black, a weapon that can shrink until easily hidden away from sight, and the power to destroy anything or anyone but leave no evidence behind. The Black Cat was designed to be the assassin of the miraculous.”

Adrien winced, “Probably... but we don’t kill. I prefer to play the knight role to my Lady’s strategizer.  Plagg did say that there have been more than a few Black Cat assassins through the years.” 

Jason huffed a sigh as he summoned the dark energy around his fist, “Let’s get this over with, what am I breaking?” 

Alix picked up the mini writing pad from next to the hotel phone, “Catch!” 

The paper withered the second it touched his hand, crumbling and disintegrating into ash. 

“Complete entropy,” Tim commented, eyeing the tiny pile of dust left behind. 

“Geek out later, replacement,” Jason snapped with an eye roll, still holding his hand out as to not touch anything even now that the power was spent, “Plagg Claws In,” 

“Oh come on,” Tim groaned after the lights had faded. The others looked at him curiously but he just stared. 

Because while detransformation had let Bruce’s number fall back to his normal 11, though it still was rich honey in color, Jason’s didn’t. 

Jason’s neon green 10 was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a scarily familiar 15. 

____________________________________________

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[thecreaturecodex]

Great Old One, Haspergrin

“Fiddlesticks sketch” © “TheFearMaster”, accessed at his deviantArt page here

[Commissioned by @echo-of-carcosa​ for their gaslight fantasy game. In their game, Haspergrin here is the arch-enemy of Kasadeya, whom they also commissioned. The commission info mentioned plagues and destroying cities--current events led me to take the flavor text in the direction of ecofascism.]

Great Old One, Haspergrin CR 28 CE Outsider (native) This towering humanoid appears as a scarecrow made by a madman. Its head is vaguely beak-like, a cape of shredded leather and feathers hangs off of its back, and its legs appear to be composed of yokes and horse collars. It clutches a massive scythe in one hand, and its other arm is oversized and tipped with blade-like claws.

Haspergrin, the Rotting Reave, Autumnjack Concerns night, plague, technophobia Domains Chaos, Darkness, Destruction, Evil, Subdomains Entropy, Fear, Night, Rage Worshipers ecofascists, evil druids, Luddites Minions blights, sahkils, wererats Unholy Symbol a broken cog worn as a collar or bracelet Favored Weapon scythe

Haspergrin, the Rotting Reave, is the Great Old One associated with the destruction of cities and the collapse of industrial societies. His cult is obscure in worlds without access to technology, but to advanced civilizations he is a bogeyman first class. His ultimate goal is to see all settlements wiped away, and for humanoids to live once more in small, scattered and terrified groups, no longer able to impose their will on the world. As such, his dogma appeals to many druids, who find themselves growing more corrupted and hateful even if they began with good intentions. His cult often recruits from the ranks of the oppressed underclasses in cities, encouraging them to tear down the foundations of lives without proposing any alternative but violence and chaos. He delights in deaths intended to “save the planet”, and his followers spread disease as a form of “population control”.

Haspergrin’s very presence snuffs out all artificial light sources, and as such he prefers to make himself known at night or underground. Before making his grand entrance, he will often use mythic contagion to spread a disease for miles around, weakening resistance and shattering morale before he even strikes. Those that see him find their higher brain functions stripped away, collapsing into a primal, animal state. His battle tactics involve destroying weapons and armor with his mighty scythe, and spreading diseases as widely as possible with his great claw. He will often allow some of his foes to survive his onslaughts, to serve as a reminder of his wrath and to die slowly of contagion.

Haspergrin has stalked humanity for millennia. He was originally a sahkil tormentor, devoted to the fear of the dark. But as humans built cities, developed artificial lighting, and banished night from their lives, Haspergrin grew ever more hateful. How exactly he transcended the ranks of the sahkils is somewhat mysterious, but his faithful hold that his current form emerged from the body of his old one as an imago emerges from its cocoon. Sages suspect that this transformation was permitted under the aegis of one of the Elder Gods, such as Sheol Nugganoth or Nyarlathotep. The current sahkil tormentors see him as an enemy, especially Kasadeya, whose concerns often focus on high society. Haspergrin can still summon sahkils, who obey him out of respect for his former status and fear of the fate that awaits them if they disobey.

Haspergrin            CR 28 XP 4,915,200 CE Huge outsider (evil, Great Old One, native) Init +21; Senses darkvision 120 ft., low-light vision, Perception +47, see in darkness, true seeing Aura neverlight (1 mile), unspeakable presence (Will DC 36, 300 ft.) Defense AC 46, touch 25, flat-footed 39 (-2 size, +7 Dex, +10 insight, +21 natural) hp 676 (33d10+495); fast healing 25 Fort +26, Ref +27, Will +29 DR 20/epic and lawful; Immune ability damage, ability drain, aging, cold, construct traits, death effects, disease, energy drain, mind-affecting effects, paralysis, petrification; Resist acid 30, electricity 30, fire 30, sonic 30; SR 39 Defensive Abilities constructed body, freedom of movement, immortality, insanity (DC 36) Offense Speed 60 ft., air walk Melee +4 unholy adamantine scythe +52/+47/+42/+37 (2d8+17/19-20x4 plus 2d6 against non-evil opponents), great claw +48 (4d6+25 plus plague), bite +43 (2d6+8) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks dreams of darkness, mythic power (10/day, +1d12) Spell-like Abilities CL 28th, concentration +38 Constant—air walk, freedom of movement, true seeing At will—contagionM (DC 24), darknessM, enervationM, fear (DC 24), insanity (DC 27), nightmareM (DC 25), rusting grasp, stone shape 3/day—greater dispel magic, empowered greater shadow evocation (DC 28), greater teleport, finger of deathM (DC 27), quickened plague storm (DC 26), power word blindM, repel metal or stone 1/day—gate (DC 29), shades (DC 29),  storm of vengeanceM (DC 29), summon sahkils, wail of the banshee (DC 29) M = Haspergrin can use the mythic version of this spell-like ability Statistics Str 44, Dex 25, Con 40, Int 29, Wis 32, Cha 31 Base Atk +33; CMB +52 (+56 sunder); CMD 73 Feats Blinding Critical, Blind-Fight, Combat Reflexes, Critical Focus, Deafening Critical, Empower SLA (greater shadow evocation), Greater Sunder, Greater Vital Strike, Improved Critical (scythe), Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder, Improved Vital Strike, Lightning Reflexes, Lunge, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (plague storm), Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +43, Bluff +46, Disable Device +45, Intimidate +46, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, engineering, local, religion) +42, Knowledge (nature, planes) +45, Perception +47, Sense Motive +47, Spellcraft +42, Stealth +35 Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Druidic, Infernal, Sylvan, telepathy 300 ft. SQ otherworldly insight Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization solitary (unique) Treasure double standard (+4 unholy adamantine scythe, other treasure) Special Abilities Constructed Body (Ex) Haspergrin has all of the immunities of the construct type. He is immune to bleed, necromancy effects, poison, sleep effects, stunning, exhaustion and fatigue, and nonlethal damage. He is immune to any spell or effect that requires a Fortitude save unless it also affects constructs. Dreams of Darkness (Su) Haspergrin can use his nightmare spell-like ability on any creature that has ever taken 10 or more points of ability damage or drain from a disease, or anyone who has ever been injured while in total darkness. In addition to the effect of the nightmare, creatures so affected must succeed a DC 36 Will save or be plagued by shadowy hallucinations. Such creatures are permanently shaken, and suffer a 20% miss chance when making all attack rolls. Creatures that cannot see are immune to this effect. This is a mind-influencing curse effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Great Claw (Ex) Haspergrin’s great claw is always treated as a primary natural attack, even when he makes weapon attacks. It deals 1.5x Haspergrin’s Strength modifier as bonus damage. Haspergrin can also wield a scythe in one hand without penalty. Immortality (Ex) When Haspergrin is slain, his body disappears, leaving behind only his scythe. The first creature that picks up his scythe must succeed a DC 36 Will save or be compelled to build Haspergrin a new body, which takes 1 week of work before it animates and Haspergrin lives again. If this save is succeeded, or nobody touches the scythe, it fades away after 1 day. In this case, Haspergrin cannot manifest a physical body until one is built for him by a cultist or dupe. Neverlight Aura (Su) All artificial light sources cast no illumination within 1 mile of Haspergrin. Any spell with the light descriptor cast in this aura must overcome Haspergrin’s spell resistance to function. Plague (Su) A creature struck by Haspergrin’s great claw must succeed a DC 41 Fortitude save or succumb to one of the diseases that can be afflicted by the contagion spell. There is no onset for this disease, and the save DC for this disease becomes DC 41. Any creature that touches a creature affected by Haspergrin’s plague must save or be infected with the same disease, although the onset time and save DC are as normal for that disease. The save DC is Constitution based. Summon Sahkils (Sp) Once per day as a swift action, Haspergrin may summon one or more sahkils equal to a CR 20 encounter. They serve him faithfully for 1 hour or until slain. This is the equivalent of a 9th level spell. Unspeakable Aura (Su) Creatures that succumb to Haspergrin’s unspeakable aura are feebleminded, as per the spell. The save DC is Charisma based.

[shoury01]

SELF-REFLECTION: INITIATION

Being present with oneself, in the moment, being mindful, mentalizing, reflective function—all of these constructs point toward a crucial recognition of one’s own experience that takes place over and over again on short time scales, as much as it is an overarching way of seeing that spans a lifetime. Practicing curiosity fosters open-mindedness.

There is the “a-ha” moment of realizing what one had temporarily forgotten, an often-amusing moment of noticing that one stopped noticing something basic. Witnessing one’s own witnessing while participating in the flow of other activities grounds one in a particular sense of security, leading toward integration as the scope of awareness becomes encompassing. There is a firm but gentle way to be intently aware, where one almost sees oneself as a beloved stranger. Being a stranger to oneself can represent alienation and nihilism, but it can also be the beginning of a love affair as we meet ourselves anew. Closeness to oneself, however, can pose a variety of real and imagined threats. It’s important to respect our own boundaries, self-consent to all major decisions, and equip ourselves well. Self-inquiry is a complex affair. There are so many layers and options, and fully cataloguing every dimension would be quite an undertaking. Taking it all in and using it implicitly would be ridiculous. In the meantime, here are a few questions and related observations, which may be handy. A) Why am I thinking this? I mean this thought, right now: . . . . .

While this can simply be a curious question, it may feel critical particularly if the emotional tone (the inner tone of voice) is short or explicitly berating. However, there is a possibility that this is a useful question, as it allows one to trace back the origins or triggers of a particular train of thought or sequence of experiences. “How come” or “when did you first notice this” can be other ways to wonder why. B) What is happening? This is what is passing through my mind: . . . . . . This feels like recognition, though the content may change. There is a sense of sureness, no doubt. It may be a fleeting notion, or an old familiar companion. Getting such repeating complexes of thought-emotion-behaviour, holistic experience, is useful. They may represent the brain’s resting state network, or default mode network (DMN) activity. Many people do not pay attention to this background noise, but it isn’t fully random. There are often large parts which are consistent over time. Whether they work as we wish, and so on, is another question. C) What am I seeing? More to the point, where is attention focused?: . . . . . .  A lot of how we think is in a visual mode. The mind is a high-entropy system, meaning it can be in many possible states.  According to physicist Emerson M. Pugh (though often ascribed to others), “If the human brain were so simple that we could understand it, we would be so simple that we couldn’t.” We can imagine anything, given enough time, but the reality is that at any given moment we have a limited capacity to hold information in mind. This is the paradox of the brain, which is effectively infinite to itself while being severely constrained, as in theory I can think, say or experience a massive number of possible things. In the visual metaphor, we can control how far away we are from the object of attention, creating a degree of detachment without disengagement. D) Am I listening? Did I stop listening to what is important to me?: . . . . .  Listening is key because we can expand the soundscape of how we take our own thoughts. Sometimes the littlest voices are the most important, as is often said. The default mode network is meant to meander, and meandering is healthy, creative, and restorative. It lets us stumble upon interesting and potentially important things we might otherwise zip past. The executive control network can remember what was prioritized, execute plans, and direct resources. The salience network decides what to highlight and what to filter out, to a significant extent based on past experiences, for better or worse. Clearing the mind makes listening easier. E) Am I using all my senses? . . . . . . Other ways of self-attention track with other sensory modalities, scent or olfaction, touch, taste, body sense or proprioception, and subtle cues of a very basic nature, such as level of tension and groundness, feeling uprooted or firmly planted. It takes a bit of a Sherlock Holmes mentality to fully get a sense of oneself first by looking for all the tell-tale clues. Any sense can be a metaphor or template for ways of inner perception. The immersion in digital reality tends to make it harder to cultivate other senses, though, as audio-visual systems get disproportionately used, and highly developed. Adaptations to cyber-reality may make it harder to be present in an embodied form, as we come to expect and have become accustomed to obvious simulation. It also changes the way we relate to one another. F) Am I present? . . . . .  The act of asking this question, which may be dispassionate and compassionate, can have the immediate effect of returning one to the present. This is especially true if the path is well-travelled. Neurotic tendencies interfere, with second-guessing and worry. It’s like building a bridge into the air over a canyon without being able to see the other side. Being present uses up mental resources, taking other brain systems offline, such as those involved in excessive worry. It also means that we can’t think about the past and future in quite the same ways, as there is a sense of time standing still in the present moment. Long-term planning from this perspective is more of a blueprint, perhaps as imperfectly glimpsed in a dream. There is a question of whether humanity has been sleepwalking — a manifestation of collective self-hypnotic somnambulism — and whether we are becoming woke, or not. Being present allows us to at least take stock of our personal inventory, possibly catching more of what we ordinarily downplay or completely miss.

Sometimes we have an idea, and while we are thinking about it, we realize we are struggling to clarify to ourself what we are really thinking. We have an idea and wanted to communicate it to someone else, but find ourselves saying, “it’s hard to explain”. Some questions that may help us out of this are:

Clarity: . . . . . . . . . . . . Can we illustrate what we mean? Could we give an example in a visual format?

Accuracy: . . . . . . . . . . . . How could we verify or test it? Can we check it some way? Do we need or want to do this?

Precision: : . . . . . . . . . . . .Could we be more specific? Can we give a clearer more detailed version of this idea?

Relevance: . . . . . . . . . . . .How does that solve a problem? How does it bear on a question?

Depth: . . . . . . . . . . . . What are some of the complexities with this idea? What factors make this a difficult problem?

Breadth: . . . . . . . . . . . . Should we consider another point of view? What is the other perspective?

Logic: . . . . . . . . . . . . Does this make sense? Does it need to make sense? Is this abstract? If so, can we explain it in a way others will understand?

Significance: . . . . . . . . . . . . Is this the most important idea to consider right now? Does it line up with our priorities?

Fairness: . . . . . . . . . . . . Do we have a vested interest in this? Are we considering the feelings of others here? Is this idea self serving or not?

Content Curated By: Dr Shoury Kuttappa

[alexanderlightweight]

Home is You

This is for @alexmanesairstream! Thank you for the prompts, I sort of muddled them both together and then it got a little away from me!  Hope you enjoy it!

Michael was fraught with tension and he scowled at his beer bottle, knowing from the mental buzz that sparked like static electrify across his brain that Isobel was fast losing her patience.

“Look, Michael if it’s making you this worked up just go see him.”

“He clearly doesn’t want to see me.  Do you think it’s payback?”  Michael asked and ran his hands through his hair, trying not to think of all the worst case scenarios and failing.

“What I think clearly doesn’t matter,” Isobel said.  “Seeing as I keep on telling you to just go over to his place and talk to him in person.”

“We’ve been talking.  Talking is all we’ve been doing for a couple months now.  This was supposed to be the first step.  Sort of like a date.”  It felt odd to admit, but it was something that had been building for months.  A relationship built on trust and respect and not just desire.  It was supposed to be the beginning of a relationship that Michael had been craving for over a decade.  It was just like life to give him a taste of what he could have, then rip it away.

If this was Alex once again walking away from him, Michael was going to break and it was going to be explosive.  

“Sort of like a date?”  Isobel asked with little sympathy and then she scoffed, “if it’s only sort of a date then what does it even matter?”

If Michael had just a little less control, then the glass in the room would have shattered.  As it was, her wine glass gave a delicate little hum of warning and Isobel winced before setting the glass down.  “Sorry.  Look, Michael you have to figure this out.  Don’t let this be another misunderstanding or accident.  I realize you’re scared,” he shot her a glare that didn’t even phase her.  “But you both being scared is part of what made this take so long to get here.  Granted you both had different reasons for dragging your feet, but at some point you both need to stop making the same mistakes.”  

“If you’re wrong,” Michael warned, unable to finish voicing what he feared the most.

Isobel rolled her eyes and gave him a tiny mental push, “go Michael.  You don’t want to know what I’m planning if you two don’t manage to work this out by Monday.”  

Michael conceded defeat gracefully -with a grumble and the overexaggerated drag of his boots against Isobel’s floor.

-

Michael hadn’t been to Alex’s cabin very often.  The times he had been there, Valenti or someone else had also been present.  It was both exhilarating and neausiating to be approaching what he knew was Alex’s home and sanctuary by himself.  He wanted this to work.  More than anything, he wanted their relationship to be feasible and healthy and something that wouldn’t shatter as easily as bone.  Max may have been able to heal physical wounds and Isobel could root out mental and emotional ones, but not one out of their motley family could heal him if tonight went wrong.

Of course, it went wrong.

The first thing Michael noticed was that the cabin was lit and smoke was coming from the chimney.  It had been cooling down at night, but Alex would never have a fire going if he’d actually planned on meeting Michael for dinner like he’d promised.  Turning to corner to park and seeing Valenti’s car only made caused his mood to darken and agitation to churn in his stomach.  

From an intellectual point of view, Michael understood that what Alex and Valenti were working on was important, he also knew that a part -though not all- of Alex’s dedication to what was a rather thankless task, was because of him.  From an emotional standpoint, Michael wasn’t so understanding.  Especially if Alex’s reason for standing him up was because he was working with Valenti.  That shit wasn’t acceptable.  

It was with wild energy coursing through him that he unlocked Alex’s door with his powers, barely noticing that the door made a solid thunk as it opened.  The inside of the cabin was surprisingly dark, the only light besides the fireplace was a flickering lamp in the kitchen.

What did surprise him was a loud curse and then the sound of something being knocked over and then a quieter curse.  Valenti stumbled out from Alex’s bedroom looking like he hadn’t slept in days and his shirt soaked, an empty glass in one hand.

“Geurin?”  Valenti asked with what was clearly genuine surprise, “shit sorry.  I must have fallen asleep.  What are you doing here?”

“Trying to figure out where my errant date was,” Michael drawled, “just what kind of shit did you two find this time?”

Valenti blinked twice and then held up a hand, “give me a second before the interrogation, Guerin.  Actually, let me ask a couple questions first.  What time is it?”

“Past ten,” Michael said and watched as Valenti made his way with ease to the kitchen, grabbing a pot of what was clearly cold coffee and filling the glass in his hand.  The doctor didn’t even hesitate to down it before he rinsed it out and filled it with water that he slipped much more slowly.  

“Right, so I’ve been here... shit.  I got here yesterday, to go over something with Alex.  You said you had a date tonight?”  

“He didn’t mention it?”

“He’s ah...” Valenti sighed, “look I need you to trust me as a doctor okay?”  Michael crossed his arms in front of his chest and shifted his weight.  “Right.  Don’t even know why I thought that might work.  I got here yesterday and Alex was a little under the weather.  I convinced him to rest a little bit and he felt bad enough to agree, only when he woke up again his fever was pretty bad.  He’s not holding down medicine or fluids and his fever is high enough that he’s not making any sense.  He mentioned sending you a message and I gave him his phone, but it’s possible he forgot to send it.”  Valenti paused and took another sip of water, “or even type it out.  Like I said, he’s pretty out of it.”

“He’s sick?  Do we need to get him to a hospital?”  Michael asked, immediately alert despite the fact that he hated hospitals.  He hadn’t been around a human he cared about long enough to be there when they were sick.  He would have been, if it were for Alex, but they’d never had that opportunity.  

“I’d really rather not move him.  I gave him an IV earlier to get some fluids in him and he’s been doing better since then.  Honestly, he just needs rest and someone to look after him and help him out.”  Valenti said and he fixed Michael with a very serious look, “I have to get back to my apartment to rest at some point though.  If he’s not doing better I’ll probably have to take him with me and then to the hospital anyway, I can’t leave him here alone like this.”

“I can stay with him.”  The words were out of his mouth before Michael’s brain had finished registering Valenti’s words but he meant them.

“Guerin,” there was a pause, “you and Max and Isobel don’t get sick.  Alex is, he’s going to need a lot of looking after and a lot of help.”  

Valenti gave him and look that Michael didn’t even try to discern, he just shook his head stubbornly, “I can take care of him.”  

-

The list of things to track about Alex’s condition was long but not overly complicated.  The most important thing was to monitor his temperature and keep track of his fluid intake.  Valenti had been very clear that if anything got worse that Michael was to call him immediately, for once Michael didn’t argue.

Alex’s body was flush with heat, his face too pallid and hair soaked with sweat.  His eyes were glazed over with fever and when he met Michael’s gaze there was little recognition for a few minutes.  Then he seemed to collect himself enough to offer a small smile before he buried himself back into his pillow.

-

Taking care of Alex seemed to mostly be entertaining himself while Alex slept.  Michael hadn’t been sure what to do with himself at first; heating broth that Alex couldn’t quite hold down and texting both Valenti and Isobel updates on how Alex was doing.  She’d offered to come over but he’d been firm in telling her that wasn’t necessary.  Now he found himself pressed against Alex’s side, using his tablet for research and waking Alex up when he felt the other man needed it.  They hadn’t talked much, Alex being either too exhausted or too sick to have a serious conversation.

It took a week for Alex to get back on some semblance of a meal plan.  His body rejected most solid foods and Michael knew it was driving him crazy.  It should have been driving them both crazy but Michael, Michael found a strange sense of peace in looking after Alex.  In the fact that Alex was letting him instead of fighting to do everything himself.  

Michael had only left the cabin twice and that was to grab some of his things and make sure the bunker was sealed tight.

Taking care of Alex while he was sick was one of the most intimate things Michael had ever experienced.  Alex was stubborn and proud but even he knew when to lean on someone else and the fact that he hadn’t insisted Michael leave, hadn’t asked for someone else to see him like this.  It made something in Michael hum and settle happily in his chest, his entropy evening out as though Alex’s breathing and heartbeat were a song that soothed his mind.

It was like they were in their own little world.  Valenti had been called to a nearby hospital for an emergency and since Michael wasn’t sure exactly how Alex felt about anyone else at the moment, he didn’t bother letting anyone besides Isobel knowing what was going on.  

-

“So all it took for you to get along with Kyle was me getting sick?”  Alex teased him, cheeks finally showing some color that wasn’t from a fever and Michael rolled his eyes while using his powers to tuck the blanket around Alex.  

“I can tolerate Valenti when he’s useful, if I have to.”  Michael admitted sourly, “this isn’t going to become a common thing, Alex.  I wasn’t going to risk you dying or something and he’s the expert on human illnesses.”

“So what you’re saying,” Alex drawled with a glint of mischief in his eyes that made Michael wary, “is that Kyle has a better understanding of my anatomy than you?”  

“Alex,” Michael said warningly and was greeted with a smirk, “sometimes I wonder if you want me to break his face.”

“Sorry.”  He didn’t sound sorry at all, “but you kind of set yourself up for that one.”  When all Michael did was glower at him, Alex chuckled and reached out a hand to him.  “Thank you for trying to work with him.”

-

Taking care of Alex when he was incoherent and mumbling unintelligible things and barely able to hold a cup without spilling on himself was the easy part.  Taking care of a bed-ridden but coherent Alec was a trial in patience and a test in cunning.

“Guerin, no.”  

“What happened to Michael?”

“Michael is reserved for when you’re not holding a very sharp razor.”  Alex replied and gave the blade a very wary look.  “I’m fine waiting to shave.”

“You’ve been complaining about how being sweaty and not being able to shave is making you feel gross.  I can help with that.”  Michael sat down next to Alex and put the razor back on the tray of grooming supplies he’d gathered.

“I haven’t seen you clean shaven since we were kids.”  Alex raised a brow and looked at him challengingly, “you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“You’ll find I’ve only perfected my technique over the years.”  Michael said and grinned smugly before letting his mouth soften into a much gentler smile.  He raised his hand slowly and cupped Alex’s jaw, “I can tell it’s bothering you sweetheart, if you can, trust me with this.  Okay?”  He made sure his voice and his grip were tender, no demands.  If Alex decided he didn’t want this, Michael would respect that.  Alex watched him, brown eyes dark and gorgeous, brow furrowed in a way that made Michael want to soothe away all of his exhaustion.  

“Alright,” Alex said, pressing his cheek into Michael’s palm.  “I’d appreciate it then.  And Michael,” Alex paused, “I do trust you.  

Michael’s breath caught in his chest and he bit back the biting humor that defensively came to mind.  Even after all this time spent with Alex, there was a lingering fear that nipped at his heels and hid in the shadows of his brain.  

“Let’s put it to the test then, Private.”

-

Alex held himself still.  The moment, the act of Michael shaving him felt fragile.  It was his skin that a blade was pressed against, but he felt as though he were a sniper with Michael in his sights.  

Michael’s hands were calloused and warm, gentle but firm on his face, moving Alex where he needed to go.  The blade a steady and soft pressure.  Each slide of it against his face came with a strange pressure before it disappeared.  Soon enough he realized that Michael was using his powers to delicately maneuver the razor so that Alex was completely safe from even the tiniest and most accidental of cuts.  That devoted attention -on top of Michael’s dedication while he was sick- nearly broke Alex’s already cracked heart.

“I’m sorry.  I don’t think I’ve said that yet.”  He finally murmured, trying not to startle Michael.

“Alex, not right now.”  Michael said and gave him a stern look, “let me finish this.  I’m almost done.”  

Alex waited until he’d lifted the razor away to wipe it clean and then reached up, tangled his fingers with the hand Michael still had on his jaw.  Tilting his head he pressed a kiss to the now unscarred skin of Michael’s left hand, “you just keep on taking care of me.  I didn’t get to tell you how much I was looking forward to dinner.  To a real date, with you.”  

Michael gave a slow shuddering breath and clenched his eyes shut for a long moment, fingers tightening on Alex’s.  “Alex, why do you... you.  Fuck, you have the absolute worst timing for everything don’t you?”  Michael opened his eyes and Alex swallowed, already having forgotten what he meant to say in reply.  Michael’s eyes were fierce and burning and Alex felt consumed by the intensity.  

“Every time I try to wait for the right time, I hurt us both.  I don’t want to, I can’t keep doing that.  Eventually, I’ll be too late again.  Waiting for you was , Michael.  I don’t want to push you away again, just because I can’t figure out when or how to tell you what I feel or what I want.”  Alex kept his gaze locked on Michael’s.  “So, because I think I need to make it clear.  I wanted that date with you.  I knew what I was going to wear.  I wanted that night to end with a decision.”  

“And what decision would that be?”  Michael asked, voice hoarse but gaze no less relentless.  

“That no matter what, I’ll be there for you.  You’re my family, Michael.”  Michael’s gaze dimmed a little and Alex quickly continued, “but that’s not all I want you to be.  I wanted to tell you at dinner that I wanted more. That I want a relationship with you.  That I still love you.  I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Michael didn’t let him add anything else, just half lunged forward and Alex was dimly aware of the tray hitting the wall.  Pushed out of the way by Michael’s powers and then he was lost.  Pulled away from reality until his world began and ended with the press of Michael’s lips on his own.  Fingers sliding through his hair and tangling with the messy strands and hushed words of “I want that.  I want you,” pressed between gasps of air against his lips.  

He didn’t know how much time had passed before they parted.  Michael pressing one last kiss against his lips before pressing tiny, softer kisses against his cheeks and neck.

It took a long moment for Alex to come down from that euphoria, he was dizzy from the exertion of their kiss and he could do little more than rest a hand on Michael’s head.  By the time Michael stopped lavishing him with affection, Alex was waning and his eyes fluttering in a desperate attempt to stay awake.  

“If that’s all it took to wear you out, then we’re going to need to work on your stamina darling.”  Michael’s teasing was gentle and Alex gave a tired scoff in response.  Whatever energy he’d gained that day was gone and he just wanted to fall asleep with Michael’s comforting heat and weight against him.  “Alex, Alex stay awake just a little longer.”  Alex struggled to open his eyes and was rewarded with a soft, “there we go.  I meant it when I said you have the worst timing, let me just finish this and you can sleep.”  

Michael’s voice, his hands, the words he was speaking and even the scrape of metal from the razor all seemed twined together in something deeply comforting.  

-

Michael stretched out, tearing off his shirt as he headed to the Airstreams shower.  It had been a long but successful day and he was pleased with the amount of work he’d gotten done.  It had been a few months since Alex had missed their date and somehow, during the two weeks that he’d taken off, everyone had decided to have problems that had to be fixed.  While he couldn’t complain about the steady work, it did bite into his time spent both with Alex and in his bunker.  Of the two, Alex was his priority, but he did miss time spent discovering and learning more about who he was and where he was from.  The piece of his ship that Jim Valenti had left Alex, stayed in the bunker under the cabin, a place that Alex and he had been converting to both a lab and a more functional safehouse.  

Done with his shower, Michael went to grab new clothes and then cursed.  He’d been doing laundry at the cabin and apparently, he’d been forgetting to bring it back with him.  Deciding that if anyone pulled him over they could just deal with it, he put on his dusty and grease smeared jeans and forewent a shirt.  It wasn’t until he went to grab the rest of his dirty laundry that he really looked around the Airstream and he paused, taking in something that should have been obvious.

The Airstream was practically empty.

Oh it still held pieces of him.  It was still very clearly somewhere he had lived, but the longer he looked around the more he realized he didn’t live there anymore.  Somehow, in the days, weeks and now months of being with Alex, he’d only slept at the Airstream when he was too tired to drive home.  Or on the rare occasions when they were in town and he convinced Alex that it was faster to just stop at the Airstream instead of driving to the cabin.  

Michael drove on the side of too fast as he headed back to the cabin.  Alex was in the backyard, his laughter ringing through the air like a siren call when he arrived and Michael followed it.  The beagle pup they’d rescued was darting around, valiantly attempting to chase a soccer ball that outsized her.  Alex turned and smiled at him, looking healthier and happier than ever and Michael understood now what Alex had meant about feeling seventeen again.  Except they weren’t, they were better now.  Stronger, able to take care of each other and he knew that neither of them would ever look away again.  

“Too hot to put a shirt on, Cowboy?”  Alex asked as he met him for a kiss.

“More like I forgot that all my clothes were here,” Michael said evenly and he could feel Alex tensing under his hands, “I’ll have to remember to take some spares over tomorrow.”  

“Just some spares?”  Alex asked, voice tinged with hopefulness that let Michael know they were both on the same page.

“My home’s here,” Michael said and he put his left hand on Alex’s chest, right over his heart.  Alex was the music he needed to survive this planet, to survive the universe.  Whether that was here, in a little cabin in Roswell or on a ship set to explore the universe.  So long as he had Alex, his mind was quiet and life was worth it.