you-gotta-werk

[fandomsarefamily1966]

"I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting, always rooting for the anti-hero"

[thebaronsilver]

First of the bat, let me say this as a disclaimer. I love the og Percy Jackson series. Secondly, my fav character is Nico and then the Percy from the og series.

Do you know why I make this distinction? Because, Heroes of Olympus ruined Percy's basic characteristics.

Just think, this is the percy who was bullied in almost every school he attended (except, maybe, Goode). Even, camp half blood,till he came back from the first quest. This is the guy with so strong a sense of loyalty that he was willing to get into trouble with the teachers for Grover when they studied together, was willingly an outcast because he would rather be friends with the one guy everyone picked on and thus be bullied himself. He was pretty excited to have a brother once he got over the whole Cyclops thing, too. This is the same guy who spent all his free time looking for a runaway kid who said he hated him. Maybe it was out of misplaced guilt. Maybe it was due to the fact this guy big brothered everyone he could get away with. (Atleast, I felt like that.)

While we're on that issue. Was Nico right to blame Percy for Bianca's death? Absolutely, not. But he was also a grieving ten year old who just lost his only family (even though she had, in a way, already left him behind. But that's an entirely different rant on the Hunters as an institutions. Bianca was also a child, remember.). And considering that Nico changed his tune once he found the truth out and even helped Percy and the camp willingly afterwards, I like to think he more than made up for that mistake.

There's even a part where Percy refuses to burden Nico with the prophesy and claims it for himself. Considering that till then he was trying not to even think about it, I believe we can easily claim that Nico was in some ways important to Percy. Maybe not in the same way his Mom, Annabeth Or Grover was to him, but still an important person.

Then we have in the last Olympian, Percy using Nico as an example why Children of Hades shouldn't be treated as Pariahs. Because if not for him and the reinforcements his powers brought (not even counting the three whole deities he brought along) the casualties would have been higher. (It was Hades who locked Percy up. He even confirms that Nico hadn't had a clue. Nico in turn broke him out and got himself in trouble. Then in a turn of events, Percy starts to blame Nico for something that wasn't in his control. A reversal of roles so to speak. I had thought that it had been momentary anger on Percy's part, but apparently considering all the references to how Nico betrayed him in the HoO, it wasn't. He'd pushed it aside momentarily, it seems.)

Percy was not to blame for what happened to Nico in the original series. Life isn't fair and it just happened to be extra unfair to Nico. Even then Percy went out of his way to look after the kid, to make sure he had a safe space.

This is the Percy who I liked. The Son of Neptune only emphasised this. Even without his memories, he took Hazel and to a lesser extent Frank under his wings. He actually recognised Nico in a vague way. Not just Annabeth (which is something else I have beef with. What about his mother? Why didn't he remember Sally till a lot later and even then he didn't let her know he was safe till a lot later?)

Then comes the Mark of Athena. He apparently told so many horror stories to the 7 that there was a debate on whether or not they should save a 13 year old demigod, the brother to one of them, from a preventable death. This wasn't like the Titan war were demigods could be the enemy. Then why was there even a debate? It's like all that loyalty disappeared. This is the guy that was once bullied at every school he's attended. Doesn't he know the impact of telling tales when people aren't there to defend themselves? To tell the whole story? Then House of Hades. Every single person in that ship thought that Nico was spooky, creepy whatever and all that poor kid was doing was exist. He made himself scarce, barely spoke unless necessary and even then they were like ew, creepy. It's like Percy's personal loyalty became loyalty to just Annabeth. Fuck whatever happens to anyone else. It upsets me.

The later books ruined Percy as a character. And I will stand by this.

[x-reader-things]

“Took Ezra long enough.” (Spider-Man AU - Part 2)

Part One ; Part Three

Ezra Bridger x gn!Reader

Summary ; In which you process what you saw.

Requested? ; Nope! Been cooking this part and another part up for a few days now. Feel free to ask any questions about this AU I love it sm and would love to talk about it- :DDD

Warnings ; None so far.

Word Count ; 1.9k

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Two masks were thrown onto a wooden table, sitting almost perfectly in the middle of a dining room area. The golden afternoon light shone through the glass of the window, casting a warm orange glow across the room.

"Sit. Both of you.", Kanan ordered, voice holding a stern and unwavering lilt that told you if you didn't listen there would be consequences. "I gotta go tell Hera about this, so don't. Move."

He gave a pointed look to Ezra, who stood besides you with a couple of your bags in hand. He rolled his eyes a bit at Kanan's request, but still followed it nonetheless.

He locked the front door behind him with a small click, took off his shoes, and walked into the dining and kitchen area of his home, you following him en suite. You've been to this place many times before, sure, so you knew what small amount of house rules you had to obey by, but it was never...

In a situation like this.

Ezra placed your bags onto the table, the plastic bags crinkling under the weight of what groceries were inside them. You placed the rest of the groceries next to those ones, and the golden hues of the light caught onto the plastic. You focused on the sight, your mind wandering to debate whether or not you should consider bringing the reusable bags rather than plastic ones you got next time you head to the store alone.

Maybe then you wouldn't have had to deal with the whole fiasco on the subway with that 'Inquisitor' dude. Because sometimes small choices lead to different scenarios. Maybe the bag holding the fruit wouldn’t have opened. Maybe you found a shortcut home.

Either way, things would’ve been different.

Not that you dwelled on it for long. It was a small, mundane thought. It had stood out louder than the cacophony of others that plagued your mind right now.

“…so.”, you began, glancing up at the Spider-Man - no, Ezra - across the table. You scraped a chair out from underneath it, the would grating quietly against the ground. It creaked lightly when you sat on it. Ezra’s did the same as he sat down across from you, eyes still locked on both masks in the middle of the wooden slab that made the table’s surface.

“So.”, he repeated, finally looking up at you. An awkward elephant of a silence fell over the both of you. It filled the room, made the golden rays of the sun catching in the windows uncomfortably warm. He tugged at the collar of his Spider-Man suit, hoping it would help him breathe just a bit easier.

You just stared at him, a gulp of uncertainty following through halfway through the silence. You still couldn’t believe what you saw.

“You finally know”, an astonished voice broke in, coming from the stairs off to the right of the front door. Sabine scoffed out a small laugh, and leaned her crossed forearms on the railings of the stairs.

“Took Ezra long enough.”, grumbled another voice.

Zeb trudged down the stairs afterwards, and stopped a couple steps above Sabine, mirroring her. His arms leaned against the railing as well, and smirked down at you and your best spider-friend. I mean - your best friend. Not spider-friend. Best friend.

You immediately stood up from your seat.

“You guys knew!?”, you exclaimed incredulously. Your arms raised a bit, hands held out in front of you in shock. Your eyes glanced continuously at both people on the stairs, and the one to your left across the table. All in disbelief.

“Eh”, Sabine shrugged. A nonchalant thing. Like it wasn’t a big deal that she was living with both of Lothal’s Spider-heroes. “Family secret.”

“Family secret!?”, you repeated, disbelieving scoff quickly making itself known. Your hands dropped to your sides, eyes casting down the the family pictures on the stairwell’s walls underneath the bannisters.

The pictures look so normal.

So, so normal.

This was anything but.

“…Is there anything else I should know about?”, you asked the three, raising a brow. Your eyes darted between the three of them once again.

“Ezra and I are adopted.”, Sabine immediately said, with no hesitation whatsoever. Ezra stifled a snort of laughter, and you gave her a deadpan look.

“Oh wow! That’s so funny - I wonder when that happened?”, you sarcastically inquired. “Lemme guess, a couple years ago? That sound about right to you?”

“To the month!”, Sabine’s grin grew smug.

“Man, its like I haven’t known anything about you guys in say - what - the past three years.”

The sarcasm still hasn’t left your voice, though it still took a turn back to the incredulity it held before.

You turned back to Ezra, opening your mouth to say something, but never finding the words. The spider logo on his suit glinted. Scuffed and scratched from over the past few years, but still strong.

Still a symbol of hope.

Although, now it takes on a whole new meaning after finding out who was underneath the mask.

“When did—“, you started, voice smaller than it was before. “When did the… y’know—“

You pointed at the Spider-Man symbol on his chest, and looked up to meet the blue iris’s of Ezra’s eyes. “The spider stuff. When did that happen?”

The question was curious. The astonishment was still there, but from the tone of your voice, it was finally beginning to sink in properly.

Ezra knew you weren’t judging him for it by the slightest.

You weren’t mad.

At least from what he could tell.

You just wanted to know. How the hell did your best friend end up this way?

Ezra looked down at the masks still on the table, a smile reminiscent of simpler times pushing at the corners of his mouth. “Few years ago. A couple weeks after I moved in here, when Hera and Kanan were still just foster parents for Sabine and I. There was this weird green spider that bit me around the place Sabine usually goes to for her wall art, and then next thing you know these - these powers showed up and… well…”, he gestured to the symbol on his suit. “That’s pretty much what happened. The short version, at least.”

“That…”, you trailed off and stared at the masks, a slow nod following afterwards. “… Makes… a lot of sense, actually.”

It did make sense.

You remember those few years ago, back in your freshman year of high school. Back when you first met Ezra. A kid you remember hearing rumors about. A kid who stole so many things (which you came to find out it was for survival, later on). A thief. A trouble maker.

A thief and trouble maker that somehow drifted to your friends Jai Kell and Zare Leonis. It’s how you two got introduced.

And then, a couple weeks later after meeting him, slowly breaking that little wall he created for himself, and becoming his friend, a new Spider-Man showed up. A younger and shorter one (who seemed to never listen to the older Spider-Man, unless if there was something serious happening).

“Damn”, you whispered. A huge weight fell onto your knees, and you almost just let the weight take you into a plummet back into your seat.

Never mind the fact that it was beginning to ‘sink in properly’. No, it wasn’t even properly sinking in anymore. It just plummeted into the depths of your soul and mind; all the late days, all the random bruises, all those random missing hours of the day that Ezra had dealt with. There was finally a damn proper reason for it.

Which was literally nothing you’d expected from him.

You thought it was just bits and pieces of his past catching up with him as a thief. That was what sounded plausible. Maybe he was beating up those bullies that picked on the other teens in the younger grades. Maybe he just had iron deficiency.

But Spider-Man?

Saving the city that robbed him of a proper childhood? A safe place to grow up? His biological parents?

It’s so… unlike him from back then. But so, so like him nowadays, to do something like that. To hold up that kind of mantle.

And that realization fell on you like a ton of bricks.

“Everything ok over there?”

Ezra’s voice cut through your thoughts, clearing them up in an instant. Worried eyes met weary ones, and you could tell just by the little upturn of a furrow in his brow that he was nervous. You wanted to tell him he never needed to be. At least, not around you.

“Yeah.”, you said, comforting smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. “Just processing. That’s all.”

“Alright”, he nodded. His own small smile, wrapped up in worries and doubt, appeared on his face. Clearing his throat, he continued, the sounds of Sabine and Zeb making their way down the steps fully being drowned out by his voice. “I just thought you were gonna be angry or something. Y’know, for me not telling you about, well.”

He didn’t need to specify. You understood what the elephant in the room was completely.

“I’m not angry, Ez.”, you tell him immediately. You shake your head, and lean your forearms against the table. Ezra leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of his chest. “You don’t have to tell me everything that’s going on with you and your family, for one. That’s your choice to make. And theirs, if they’re apart of whatever it is, too. And two, why would I be? I mean - I’m just in shock right now, in all honesty.”

You laugh quietly, bringing a hand up to your forehead, rubbing your thumb and forefinger across the skin of it. “It’s really, really cool that you’re one of the Spider-Men out there, but wow - it is surely a hell of a thing to find out on a grocery run.”

Ezra chuckled at that. You glanced back up at him, and let out a small and relieved breath. Some of the tension in his smile left. He looked a little bit more like the usual Ezra. The one you know and love as your best friend.

“Yeah, I can imagine”, he says finally, remnants of a chuckle still floating from his voice. His eyes finally met yours again. A sense of comfort flooded the room for a second, and the golden-orange hues of sunset blaring in from the windows felt like a blanket again, warm and light instead of uncomfortably heavy and almost humid.

A few minutes passed by. The ambient noise of Sabine and Zeb walking about in the living room down the hall filled the void of noise. Their voices blended into the background, along with the beeps of Chopper, who was somewhere in the room causing a small amount of havoc for the other two to deal with.

Kanan’s voice appeared distantly in the backround as well, joining the other three in conversation. It blended into the soft ambience of the house, all the same as the others.

A click of a doorknob sounded, breaking the silence in the dining room.

“So, Ezra”, started Hera as she walked into the room. She moved to the chair next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder while sitting down. In her other hand was a cup of coffee. Most likely for another late night of work, if you could guess.

Hera gave you a smile and a little nod as a hello and acknowledgement of your presence. You gave one back at her, not minding in the slightest that she didn’t say hello. There were more pressing matters to attend to first.

“Kanan told me what happened at the subway today with ‘The Inquisitor.”, Hera continued. She crossed her arms, and leaned back in her chair. She sipped at her drink, and raised a brow at the blue haired boy in front of her. “Care to explain?”

[ultimate-muscle]

Since Kinnikuman is getting a new series, I've had some concerns. The property is understandably a product of its time, and it's chocked full of outdated stereotypes and unsettling imagery (Brocken Jr. and Geronimo's messy heritage comes to mind), which is one of the reasons why it was never fully localized in the west, to begin with. So I'd wonder if they'll ever try to fix those problems or consider possibly hiring sensitivity readers for their works. Sadly, I doubt it would ever happen; but I honestly wish the authors could work around some of their cast to adapt to current times. What do you think should happen?

I think the old work should stand.

It was a product of its time and culture, and it's been edited as necessary by the authors over time (current volumes have been censored accordingly, and the worst has already been removed). The manga is problematic, but I agree with companies like Warner Brothers and Disney; better to keep things as a record of the past than to remove them or change them. That being said:

A new anime needs to make changes.

The issue I have answering this is more 'do I talk about ideal changes for us in the West' or 'realistic and needed changes for Japan'. I think really it's two different questions, so I'll talk about what I think should happen - and will probably happen - for Japan. That is to say . . . not much. I don't think much is needed.

It's easy to remove Nazi symbols from Brocken, and his current design lacks those symbols anyway. They can easily just remove references to him being a Nazi, and instead he can just be a 'soldier'. Kinnikuman Great can go back to his original red design. Ramenman cannibalising a person can just go back to the original gore (or a broken back). The "Roots" arc can be generally edited or left out.

I think if people have a problem with how nationalities and ethnicities are depicted, and we're talking about Japanese modern standards of racial sensitivity . . . they might be disappointed. For the culture in which it's written, I think it's been pretty great with diversity and representation. We have a black man as a hero. We have a native American as a really inspirational character. We have Americans and Russians shown in positive lights. We have people of all sorts coming together under the banner of 'friendship'.

I think Geronimo is still going to have his headdress and go "owahahaha" in battle, and Ramenman is still going to have stereotypical eyes like a South Park character, and . . . while I don't agree with it, I think we just have to accept that it's a Japanese anime, and that for a Japanese anime (bar the situation regarding female characters), it's going to be pretty ideal.

Now, in terms of the West . . .

I think the best option is to leave the animation exactly as it stands (unless they somehow did keep the swastikas and such), and edit the dialogue in the dub to make it more appropriate. The "owahahaha" cry can be something else. The inappropriate jokes or comments can be made more palatable. The references to Nazis (if left in) can be changed to comments about soldiers.

Now, don't get me wrong, this raises a whole other debate about whether to be true to the source and whether this would be censorship . . . personally, I'm a massive fan of Hetalia and Ultimate Muscle, so I wouldn't even an object to a total script change (so long as it kept true to characters and story), but I think it's the best option to avoid overly being offensive. Let's face it, though, there's not much anime out there that's perfect with different ethnicities and nationalities, and none of them get changed for the west.

That's not to say it's right, but it's also not to say it's wrong. I don't really feel comfortable judging Japan by Western standards, and - even then - I remember things being acceptable in Spain (as one example) that would never be acceptable in Britain, so even 'the West' is an extremely vague and not too useful term.

tl;dr I think designs can be tweaked, and - keeping close to the manga, and not the original anime - a lot of the worst will be absent anyway, especially if they stick to the edited manga. If I'm going to be completely honest, I think if people get offended by Ramenman and Geronimo, they probably are better off reading/watching a different source than lamenting what could/should be in a perfect world. It's not so much a product of its time, but also its country, and I think we all get a bit too sensitive in modern day. Brocken is a whole can of worms, but the rest just . . . is. I'd personally keep it as it stands.

[queentheweeb]

Izuku X Female POC Reader (Christmas Edition)

A/N: This was a request

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It was a little dangerous for you and your friends at U.A to travel back home for the holidays which was upsetting considering it was Christmas and you always spent Christmas with your family. It was understandable though because there was a virus that affected everyone in all countries forcing countries and states into Lockdown. So, here you were on Christmas Eve spending the day in your dorm talking to your parents, brothers, and sisters, and cousins as well as trying to comfort each other that there is always next Christmas. It worked for a bit but, you were still down. Don't get you wrong, you loved your friends, especially the well-known Dekusquad but, family is different you know? You spoke to your mother a bit more finally hanging up. You lay down trying to fix your hair so it doesn't get tangled or puffed up. Maybe you should have done something to it, put in braids or a weave to keep from having to always fix your natural hair. It did what it wanted once anything touched it. It could be windy, humid, wet, or sunny it didn't matter the weather it always turned your curls into an untamable fro that went up, sideways left, and right but, never down. 

"Y/N- chan!" You jumped up at the excitable voice on the other side of the door. It was Ochako meaning Tsu was with her as well. Getting up not caring about your pajamas you opened the door and as predicted Ochako and Tsu were right there. "Can we come in?" You stepped aside to let them both inside closing and locking the door behind them.

"What y'all doing here?" You weren't being rude, you genuinely wanted to know. You stepped by your bed hoping they won't try to peak and see the presents you got for them. You got everyone in the class a card but, only a handful got presents from you. 

"What did you get for Izuku?" You quickly turned around on your bed throwing a pillow over your face not giving a shit about your hair at the moment. You had more pressing matters to worry about. "YYYYYYY/NNNNNNNN" You grumbled throwing an extra pillow at the giggling girl 

"Was it clothes? Maybe jewelry, cologne?" You let them ramble on and on about it not hinting at what you got him. You were debating whether or not you should even tell them.

"I don't think she wants us to know." At least Tsu seemed to have picked up on that from you. Ochako did too she just ignored it.

"Well, as long as you don't open your mouth to him." You sat up giving Ochako the side eye knowing she can get excitable and let out secrets by accident. You went to the closet and took out a giant gift bag that had a few wrapped gifts inside of it showing it to the girls who felt the presents and trying to figure out what they were. "I got him All Might stuff, hero notebooks, a self-care package, and something else for his hero costume." You turned around not wanting them to see how flustered you were about the whole thing.

"OH MY GOD, HE IS GOING TO LOVE IT SO MUCH!" You went up to her placing your hand on her mouth and shushing her 

"Girl we don't need the whole damn floor to know." You let go accepting the sheepish apology. The three of you talked some more before they both somehow got you out of the room and to the common room where everyone was at. You looked around and saw the giant tree with a bunch of gifts under it. The people in the class who you got a gift for were Ochako, Tsu, Tenya, Shoto, Kirishima, Shoji, Ojiro, Sato, Sero, Shinsou, Momo, and Aoyama. Everyone else got cards. You weren't Santa and, you were petty. No one else besides the ones you listed ever gave you anything so why buy them something? 

"L/N-chan! Come sit down and watch this Christmas movie with us." Tenya's choppy hands urged you to come and take a seat on the couch in between Shoto and Izuku. You did your best to appear calm, collected, and casual because you were not about to make a fool of yourself in front of your crush. No way. Also, if you weren't comfortable giving him his gifts in front of everyone you would panic and he would probably combust and faint. His heart can only take so much. You had no idea what movie was on so you decided to ask 

"What movie is this?" You glanced over to Izuku who jumped surprised you were talking to him 

"I-It's u-uh, Elf it's a c-comedy." He fidgeted some more which was odd. He was nervous normally but, he was extra today. Maybe it's because he misses his mom. This is not only his first Christmas spent with friends but, it's his first Christmas away from the only family he knew. You knew how he felt. 

"Relax sugar, I know it's rough not being able to go home but, at least you have us right?" and me but you kept that little thought to yourself. He seemed to deflate a bit at that, took a deep breath, and gave you a real smile.

"You're right." He was blushing which was normal for him so you bumped his shoulder getting a giggle out of him. The move started then and you didn't pay much mind to the fact that the two of you were sitting a little closer than before. The movie went on and it had you crying. Will Ferrell was hilarious and when he screamed Santa it killed you. You caught the gut-cramping giggles leaning all over Izuku who was chuckling himself. You didn't even notice you were almost in his lap but, he didn't seem to mind at all. You had a leg thrown over his and your head resting on his shoulder and his arm was wrapped comfortably around you. 

"Is this okay?" You glanced up at him to see he was looking at you for consent. Such a sweet boy. You nodded your head as he gave you a little squeeze. The class - minus Bakugo - was falling asleep around Midnight and that's when everyone decided to call it a night. You and Izuku were the last ones to stay behind and, with an encouraging look from Ochako she left with the rest of the Dekusquad in tow. You had a minute to think and, look at your position on him. You were cuddling him and had half your body on him and his arm was wrapped around your waist comfortably. 

"Um, I have gifts for you, I-I just didn't want to give it in front of the class." You were speaking fast and looking off to the side. You gasped a bit when you felt his hand on your chin tilting it to look at him. He had a very soft smile on his face, it was a look you'd never seen him have before. It made him look gorgeous. 

"I have yours too. Do you want to open them now? It's technically Christmas." He smirked tilting his head a bit at you. Who the hell is this? What demon possessed him? It's Christmas demons aren't welcomed here at the moment.

"S-Sure?" It came out more like a question but, he took it as it was. What you didn't expect was for him to pick you up and run with you making airplane noises. You couldn't help the giggles that escaped you as he zoomed up the stairs. You prayed no one heard you, this would be embarrassing. He went to his room first, picked up the gifts, and then the two of you went to your dorm you let in quietly so as to not arouse suspicion. 

"Here, let's open them together." As quietly as you can the two of you exchanged gifts and opened them. The two of you were going through a crisis at the gifts. He had bought you all of the beauty and skincare products you used. He bought makeup, skincare, hair care, and gift cards to your favorite clothing boutiques. You felt your soul leave your body. It made you feel better about the money you dropped on his gifts. You looked up to see the boy was comatose with the gifts splayed around him 

"Izuku?" He seemed to snap out of it and, with lightning speed he sat up and pulled you into his lap for a hug. You immediately hugged him back loving how perfect you felt against him.

"You're so perfect. I can't handle it." You were confused and happy at the same time looking at him when he pulled away. "I'm so tired of watching you get hit on by other guys, can you please be mine? I hope I didn't read your emotions wrong-" You cut off his ramblings with a kiss on his cheek. His whole face heated up as he stared at you wide eye 

"You read them perfectly fine." He blinked a few times before he let out a giggle and pulled you in for another hug. You squeezed him back equally as strong happy to finally be in his arms.

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Fluffy and sweet :)

[mc-lukanette]

Have you considered writing a "Truth" fix-it with Marinette admitting her secret to Luka? Maybe he could be a confidant like Marianne was for Fu.

Truth was having a terrible, awful, rotten, very bad day. If he could use his powers on the universe, he would've asked what he did to deserve this kind of treatment.

It started with his girlfriend keeping a secret from him concerning her ditching their dates, then escalated to Jagged Stone - who'd been his idol for years - turning out to be the father who abandoned him, and now he was fighting Ladybug and Chat Noir in Marinette's room after he’d been told by multiple people that Marinette’s supposed “secret” was that she was in love with Adrien, as if he hadn’t already known that and they just wanted to mock him.

His civilian self had never been never someone to presume, but now it's all he could do. Marinette must've ditched him because she didn't really love him, Jagged probably never even felt bad about abandoning him, and despite Adrien never even trying to win Marinette's heart, he was just better than Luka in every way, because the rich model with all the connections Marinette could ever want would always outmatch the "guitar boy" who worked a part-time job, lived on a houseboat, and had parents who either kept secrets from him or flat-out didn't want him.

Had it not been for his akumatization working to drive him towards a goal without interference, he would've cried. He wanted nothing more than to wake up and think the whole thing was just a bad nightmare, with dating Marinette just being brief highlights of it that kept getting shot down with a reminder that he wasn't good enough.

He wanted it all to be over.

Chat Noir was still trying to banter with him, but Truth wasn't having it. While going after Ladybug first wasn't ideal, as she was the smarter out of the two, it was easier to get rid of Chat Noir and deal with the heroes one at a time.

Thus, when Ladybug had run across the room to use her Lucky Charm, Truth acted. He managed to grab Chat Noir and throw him into the chest that Ladybug had been hiding in before, then locked it tight to prevent Chat from escaping. That done, he went after Ladybug, who was stunned but nevertheless prepared to fight. Chat Noir being out of the picture didn't impact her ability to fight, but Truth had Pharo on his side to knock Ladybug around when it was too hard to get a spotlight on her.

Finally, he managed to tackle her, her lying on her back and him pinning her arms down. The chest nearby rattled in protest, but Pharo shined its spotlight on it, preventing it from moving anymore.

Truth watched as Ladybug looked around for a method of escape, but she came up empty. Her eyes widened in the realization that... this was it. This was the end.

"Now," Truth said, clamping down harder on her arms as he leaned down, "tell me the truth!"

Ladybug tried to shut her lips tight, but he could see her struggling, her body shaking as she tried to free her arms to stop herself. It was only a matter of time.

Then, her mouth opened, and out came the words, "I love you, Luka!"

He froze, his fingers twitching in his confusion while he could only stare down at her in shock.

"And I'm so sorry! I'm sorry for everything! I wanted to tell you - I always wanted you to know - but I couldn't, and you deserve so much better than a hero who can't give you the time you deserve!"

A cold realization washed over him in form of a shudder. Those words could've been interpreted in so many ways, but he was the only one who registered their real meaning: that Marinette was Ladybug, her "ditching" had been her needing to fight akuma, her keeping secrets had been out of a desire to protect him, and he—

...He had only caused her more problems by getting akumatized, being no better than all those that had interrupted their dates. She loved him, and he gave into Shadow Moth to go against her.

Ladybug continued rambling, oblivious to his internal crisis, "You're incredible, and I just love you so much. I knew you were special from the day we met, when you called me—"

Truth clamped his hand over her mouth, preventing her from spilling any more secrets. He could feel Shadow Moth's influence in his mind, demanding that he remove his hand, but Truth ignored it, just as he'd been ignoring so many of his commands. The energy from akumatization that once made him feel powerful now made him feel disgusted with himself, guilt swirling in his gut and making him regret everything.

He reached up with his other hand, grabbing at his necklace and tearing it off. Ladybug's brows rose at the crunching of his akumatized object, and the last things he saw were the akuma flying free and Ladybug's expression turning to something...

thoughtful.

—————

Marinette de-transformed in a nearby alleyway and headed down towards the Seine, having not yet processed all of her feelings from that day. She had a little time left, given that Luka had quietly asked to walk back home himself, but she’d gotten no closer to clearing her mind since leaving her house. She was still a jumbled mess of "what if"s and "but maybe"s, and ultimately knew that it was going to be a matter of essentially winging it and just saying everything that she had on her mind.

As she approached the Liberty to wait for Luka, she paused as she noticed another figure already standing there. After all, Jagged Stone wasn't exactly someone you could not notice.

Before she could debate on whether to approach him, Jagged seemed to sense her and glanced over to make eye contact. She stiffened, only able to wave awkwardly and pretend like she didn't know why he'd be there.

"Hey, frockstar," Jagged greeted tiredly, his smile not quite reaching its usual lengths. "What are you doing here?"

"Um..." She walked over, standing next to him and staring in the direction where Luka was going to come from. "I need to talk to my boyfriend."

"Ah." It took a few seconds for the words to actually register with him, at which point Jagged turned to her, mouth agape as he grabbed her shoulders. "My son's your boyfriend?!"

She didn't quite have the energy to feign total surprise at the “son” comment, but she didn't have to. Jagged immediately pulled back without really looking at her, regaining his composure just as quickly as he'd lost it.

"You... wouldn't happen to be able to put in a good word for me, hm?" He grinned sheepishly, jabbing at Marinette with a hopeful elbow. "Haven't exactly figured out what I'm gonna say yet."

She was torn between being upset with him on Luka’s behalf and feigning sympathy because it was not only none of her business, but she was in a similar boat and felt like she had no right to judge.

She went with the latter, smiling weakly and jabbing him back. "That makes two of us." Then, she frowned as her nerves came back. "And... anyway, I don't know if he'll want to keep being my boyfriend after tonight."

For once, Jagged didn't pry or ask questions, the atmosphere probably felt even by him. They just stood there, waiting.

After a few minutes, Luka finally walked into view, staring at the ground and seeming defeated. Marinette felt ill at the sight, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her capris to find a sense of stability.

Should she approach him? Let Jagged go first? Or, maybe that would seem evasive, so—

She felt a pat on her shoulder, looking up at see Jagged urging her forward with his eyes. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful or consider him to be the evasive one, but Luka's akumatization was also mostly because of her and thus it only made sense for her to go first.

She ran the distance to get to him, Luka glancing up at the sound of her footsteps and stopping as she got to him. The usual light in his eyes wasn't there, and she had to force herself to even say a simple, "Um... hi."

"Hey." He hesitated, then rubbed the back of his head. "I'm really sorry, Marinette."

"Huh?"

"I got akumatized, and I was in your room when I woke up." His brows furrowed with uncharacteristic anxiety. "I didn't have to hear the song to know what the notes were. I must've gone after you."

Marinette blinked, having not even thought about him feeling guilty over the whole thing. She shook her head, reassuring, "No no! I mean—you told me to run! You didn't go after me, not really!"

She wasn't technically lying; he never sought her out to her knowledge, and even as Ladybug, she'd always had to chase him.

Luka sighed in relief, though his expression didn't change much. "I'm glad."

He met her gaze again. She yearned for the way he used to look at her like he wanted to get lost in her forever, but his eyes soon darted elsewhere as he noticed Jagged Stone standing not too far away.

Marinette tried not to get discouraged, stepping back into his vision and waving her hands to try and divert his attention. "Ah—don't worry about that! Look—" She paused, needing a moment to breathe, then lowered her hands and shifted to seriousness. "Can we talk? And walk? It's... really important."

She couldn't imagine the conclusions he must've been coming to in his head, partly because he didn't voice any of them. His eyes merely searched hers, seeking nothing in particular.

"Sure, Marinette," he agreed.

She managed a smile, happy that she made it this far at least. She reached out to take his hand, but stopped herself at the last second and simply walked past him, Luka taking one look back at Jagged before following after her.

The walk was tense and quiet, the only sounds coming from the evening ambiance and their footsteps. The uncertainty of it all gave her anxiety, but she'd been sure of that uncertainty since she first decided to talk to him about this.

Because, whatever the future of their relationship was, it would be in his hands.

—————

As they arrived at her intended destination, Marinette heard Luka briefly stop behind her, perhaps processing where she just took them. It was the Canal Saint-Martin, also known as the place where they'd first agreed to date, and now it was potentially the place where they'd break up as well. Marinette vaguely pondered if that would be for the best, like the memories would just cancel each other out and Luka could forget about it altogether if he wanted to.

Nevertheless, she walked over, glancing at the bridge for reference and sitting in roughly the same place she’d been all that time ago. She then tossed Luka a hopeful look, and he walked over to sit next to her.

Steeling herself up, Marinette took a breath, inhaling until she couldn't take in any more oxygen and then exhaling for just as long. At least a little more emotionally prepared than she was before, she finally spoke up.

"I...I'm sorry, Luka. I'm sorry that I got you akumatized—" She saw that he was about to interject and cut him off. "—and I know you don't blame me, but it doesn't matter—I mean—it does matter, but I'm still sorry anyway, okay? You had a right to be hurt and maybe if I'd explained myself better, then things would’ve been different."

He still seemed to want to argue, but was holding himself back so she could continue, which she appreciated.

"It's not that I didn't trust you. If anything, I—I trust you more than anyone else. You've never betrayed me and I know you'd never tell anyone if I told you my secret. You understand me even when I'm being the disaster that everyone laughs at - everyone but you - and..."

She sighed, pulling out her phone and navigating to her text conversation with him. Mentally wincing, she tapped on the photo of her Adrien wall that Ziggy had sent, then presented it to him. He leaned in to make sure of what it was, then looked back at her, clearly not understanding where she was going but knowing it wasn't her being spiteful or rubbing it in.

She said as much, "You don't assume anything, like when you got sent this dumb picture. I know it was obvious that it was an accident, but you didn’t have to go with it and you did. I wouldn't have blamed you if you got mad, but you didn't. Whenever I'm stammering and being an idiot because I'm scared or nervous, you don't judge me for it or think that whatever comes out is what I actually mean. That's so important to me, Luka, you have no idea."

She settled the phone between them and kept the picture on-screen. Her gaze flickered down to it, silently encouraging him to look at it too, then glanced back up at him.

"How much do you know about fashion?"

He tilted his head, thrown off by the sudden question, but answered anyway, "Only what my sister's ever talked about."

"Do you know why fashion trends die so quickly?" When he shook his head, she explained, "Part of it is the over-exposure. When people hear about what's in at the time, suddenly everyone starts wearing whatever it is, so everywhere you look, you see it, and then people get tired of it."

There was a flicker of understanding in his eyes, Luka looking back-and-forth between her and the phone like he was piecing a puzzle together.

She confirmed it for him, "That's why I have so many. I don't feel that way about him anymore - I don't think I ever did - but I just don't know how to act around him. I hate how the whole idolizing thing took over my life and I already tried everything else, so I figured this might work." She groaned. "And of course it blew up on me and you got sent that without any context. Of course."

He gave a look of concern at the exasperation in her tone, but she tried to ignore it, not wanting his sympathy.

"My point is..." She gestured vaguely at the phone. "I stammer about him, but it's not because I'm in love with him, it's because I've never really been his friend and I don't know how to do it. I'm not dedicated to him and I'm getting better at not doing the stuff I used to."

His eyes flickered again and she wondered if he was thinking about that day on the Liberty where she was late to Kitty Section playing, where she ignored Adrien entirely. Just for emphasis, she tapped her phone and deleted the picture, adding on, "I'm only dedicated to you, Luka. I—"

She shifted in place, hitting the wall behind her feet a few times with her heels to ease off the anxiousness. It was so much easier when she’d been Ladybug, though granted that she was under the influence of Truth's spell at the time. She and Luka were dating, yet she was sure he'd ask her to end it, making putting herself out there all the scarier.

"I..." She met his gaze. "I love you." He gaped at the confession and she continued on, "I love you like I haven't loved anyone else before; definitely not Adrien. It's the kind of love that actually makes me happy, and comfortable, and my life is better with you in it."

She bit her bottom lip, hands curling into fists at the tight feeling in her chest. She turned, placing one hand on the ground as she began to push herself up, her other hand landing on Luka's shoulder to wordlessly insist that he didn't have to stand with her, so his gaze merely followed her as she moved.

"But that's the thing." She took a few steps away, back turned to him as she stared up at the sky. Her stomach twisted itself in knots at the words in her throat, but she nonetheless admitted, "I don't think it's mutual."

Luka's voice took on a sharp, offended tone. "Marinette—"

She spun to face him, cutting him off, "—and I know that you're going to say something sweet and heartfelt about how everyone has a place in your life and then something about how bad notes can still make good songs, but... Luka, you don't understand."

She turned away from him again, this time pacing as she counted off events. "Bullies and liars target me, and sometimes that means going after people I care about. I'm clumsy and a stuttering mess and you wouldn't believe the mistakes I made that I couldn't have even seen coming. It seems like I draw bad luck wherever I go; I mean, your mother is one of the most chaotic people I can think of, so you'd think she'd get akumatized a bunch, but it was only the day I showed up that she did. Even the other boys who only loved me for a little bit either got akumatized over it or became an anxious mess until they found out who they actually liked, and that last one would've at least been really useful to think about if I'd just made the connection back then, but I didn't!" She paused, then met his eyes with a pained expression. "And then there's you."

"What do you mean?"

She stopped in place, not knowing whether to be touched or not by the fact that he either hadn't noticed or was pretending not to. Throwing her arms out, she explained, "Things go bad whenever we hang out! I already mentioned your mom, but then there was the ice rink; even without me getting distracted when all you were trying to do was make me feel better, there was an akuma and you probably got frozen solid by him. When we were hanging out on the Liberty, Adrien just happened to show up on that day with Kagami to turn me into a mess, and then Desperada came to make everything worse."

Marinette couldn't remember when she'd started thinking about such things or feeling guilty for everything that ever happened. There was just a point where it felt like she was always apologizing for something, no matter how small it was, and stuff being her fault became par for the course by then.

"Then, both times you got akumatized, it was because of me—and I know you don't blame me, but I'm always involved! You were ready to leave the TV station, but because I tried to put up a fight, Bob Roth threatened me and that was your last straw. Today was the same thing; you were already upset about what happened with your dad and then it was me who sent you over the edge!" She shut her eyes tight, the memories painful to relive. "You're always putting up with me, Luka. You put up with me crying all over you and even dropped your guitar for it, and then you had to protect me from Miracle Queen's mind control! I'm supposed to protect you!"

He recoiled at the volume of her voice, then furrowed his brows, his eyes darting back and forth as he seemed to process something particular about what she said.

"I'm supposed to make you happy, and I can't. Out of all the people in Paris who should be able to keep you from getting akumatized, it should be me, and all I've done is hurt you. You're the calmest person I've ever known and then I came along and gave you feelings you didn't ask for. Sometimes—" She shook, choking briefly on the words. "Sometimes I wonder if it would've been better for you if you never met me."

Luka's gaze sharpened. He didn't reply, but turned fully to her, pushing himself up as if to approach.

However, she stepped back, his look then flashing to hurt. She took a breath, expression determined as she said with her whole chest, "I'm Ladybug, Luka."

He froze, his body going stiff and his eyes blinking rapidly at either the reveal itself or the way she’d so firmly said it.

"I'm Ladybug," she repeated quietly, this time with an ache in her voice, "and I'm telling you not because I trust you—I mean, I do trust you—but I also believe in you; that you wouldn't sell me out to Shadow Moth even with all the mind control in the world. You've always had my back and supported me even when I didn't deserve it, and I want you to know. It's dangerous and I don't know what'll happen and I'm scared but I want you to know it." She put a hand to her chest. "I'm the one who has to save Paris whenever something happens, and that's why I always had to ditch you. I'm the one who messed up and lost you your identity as Viperion. I'm the new guardian of the miraculouses, and the kwami don't even listen to me; they invaded my privacy and it was one of them that took and sent you that picture."

She realized that her vision was staring to blur and looked skywards, trying to fight back tears.

"I-I'm not a normal girl. I can't be a normal girlfriend, or give you everything you'd want out of a normal relationship. It's my fault that you got akumatized because I just—I wanted you. I wanted to be in a relationship and go on dates with you, but Ladybug isn't supposed to want things. She's supposed to be selfless and only worry about everyone else, but... you made me happy, and I wanted more of that. You were the first person I really felt like I could be myself around without being scolded or lied to and I thought it would be okay..."

She noticed him moving and quickly turned her back to him, at least able to let the tears fall now without him seeing them.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I always think I can handle things but then it goes wrong and I end up hurting people. If I'd just gone home the day of the music festival instead of complaining about Adrien not being around, then none of this would've happened." She sighed in frustration, wiping her eyes clean of tears, and she was so focused on forcing her words out that she didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind her. "I-it's okay if you want to break up, Luka. It wasn't fair that I kept you in the dark, and I understand if you're mad, or you want to date other people, o-or if you don't love me anymore—"

Her voice cut off with a gasp as a pair of arms wrapped around her midsection, pulling her against a familiar, warm chest that had an unfamiliarly pounding heartbeat. She tried to look up at him, but his hair was shadowing out his eyes and left only his trembling lips visible. In fact, his whole body was shaking, as if it were winter and no amount of layers could keep him warm.

"L-luka?" she called, confused.

"Stop," he begged quietly, the hug tightening briefly to give her a squeeze. "Please."

"But..." She trailed off, acknowledging the request. She'd never heard his voice just break like that.

"You've already sung your part of our duet, Marinette. Now it's my turn." He paused, taking an unsteady breath before continuing, "I'm glad you told me your secret. I know you're worried about me being in danger, but it makes me happy that you can rely on me now. Music boxes aren't meant to stay shut, and you deserve someone who you can open up to, even if I hate that you have to mute yourself in the first place to keep everyone safe."

She opened her mouth, wanting to say that it was okay and it was just her job, but kept quiet to respect his earlier request.

"My life isn't worse because I met you," he murmured, an unspoken plea in his tone that told her to never think that way again. "I felt things with you that I never have before. My song started out as a flatline, then we met and you made it move. Music isn't exciting if it doesn't change but you did that for me. What you might see as bad notes is my passion for you, and I won't apologize for it or make you apologize for messing up just like every person does. I'd never wanted someone before you, and even if you never wanted to date me, I'm grateful that I got to know you; to fall for you."

Marinette blinked in an attempt to stop oncoming tears, Luka pulling her closer for comfort when she whimpered.

"All that mattered to me is when we were together, just the two of us. That's when your melody plays the clearest and when I get to see you. Those two weeks when we were preparing our music video were some of the best two weeks of my life because I got to see you in your element. I've accepted every break in the tempo because I've heard you, I've heard the Marinette you've wanted to be, and I want to be there for every beat of it." Then, he exhaled, adding with a somber tone, "I can't imagine how much pressure you must be under, or how awful things are and how impossible it must be to sing when you can't even take a breath without something going wrong. I just... I want to help you be happy. I don't care what you, your kwami, or anyone else says; you're allowed to be happy, Marinette, and I'd drop a thousand of my guitars if it meant that you get to play happy notes one more time."

She let out a sob, blushing pink as her hands unconsciously raised to rest on the ones around her waist, Luka sighing in content and nestling further against her.

"So I don't want to break up with you, Marinette. Not at all. I just want to find ways to make it easier on you - on both of us - and if that means finding ways of planning our dates around akuma attacks, or not planning at all and going wherever the rhythm leads, then that's what we'll do."

She tried to keep quiet, but couldn't help voicing, "W-what if... what if it doesn't work? What if I have to bail on you every now and then? People will think—"

"I was never worried about that," he retorted immediately. "I'm a Couffaine. My clothes are ripped, I carry my guitar in the basket on my bike, and I live on a boat. I stopped caring about what people thought a long time ago."

He was unbelievable. Marinette didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both. He just held her there, his heart still beating against her back but now serving as something to calm her.

"The only opinions that matter in our duet are yours and mine," he said. His hold loosened, though hesitating like it was physically painful to release her. He let her go nonetheless and held his hands out in front of her, palms facing the sky. "So what about you, Marinette?"

She stared at his hands, then slowly raised her own to hover over them. She breathed up, then slid her fingers across his palms until their calloused fingertips met, neither making any move to pull away.

"I...I want to make it work," she whispered, leaning back against him. "I want to be with you, Luka. I'm at my best when I'm with you. I just..."

She stopped, knowing that he would have an argument for anything she said. If she apologized for the failed dates that she can never fix, he'd argue that it'd be worse to leave things off a sour note, and that not every good song starts out good. If she tried to suggest other people for him to date or imply that it'd be easier with someone else, he'd say that his guitar plays only for her and he wouldn't change that even if he could.

"...I'm sorry," she said, smiling her first genuine smile of the night. "I won't doubt myself anymore."

Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smiling too. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah. Do—do you?"

"Yeah," he replied, voice thick with emotion.

Wanting to see his face, she slowly dropped their hands and turned to face him, silently hoping that she didn't look awful from her earlier tears. However, to her surprise, she noticed that Luka's eyes were watery despite his smile, just like her. Realizing something, she raised a hand to her shoulder, where his face had been hovering over ever since he'd hugged her from behind.

It was wet.

"Oh, Luka..."

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him against her. He returned the gesture, squeezing her lovingly and giving her back a few rubs that she responded to with a happy hum. They held the position, the warmth of the hug completely negating the slight chill of the night air.

Even when they pulled away, it wasn't far nor for long. Marinette wasn't sure which of them initiated it, but one moment they were staring at each other and the next they were kissing. It had been long overdue and she idly thought that it was better than she would've imagined their kiss at the cinema to be.

She breathed in his scent, her fingers blindly reaching up to slide into his hair. She almost felt like crying again, though this time in relief that everything had actually worked out for once and they were kissing without interruption. Even though Luka was more subtle in showing his emotions, she could tell that he felt the same from the way his hand on her back shook, practically vibrating with happiness.

The kiss eventually broke with a soft click, though she kept her hands on him for the sake of stability. They were both breathing a little hard from the emotional toll of the conversation yet not necessarily in a bad way.

And the love in his eyes - the life that she missed so much - was back. She honestly thought she wouldn’t have seen it again and she was tempted to just keep kissing him in relief, part of her aware that he definitely wouldn’t have minded it.

It took her a few tries to get the words out, hesitant to break up their wordless exchanges of love. She knew what revelation was waiting for Luka back at his houseboat - maybe he'd already guessed it - and she wanted to be there for him, so she asked carefully, "Do you... want me to come back to the Liberty with you?"

Eyes half-lidded, he gave her a soft smile and gently squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Do you want to sleep over?"

She nodded. "Mm, I'd like that."

Holding hands, they began making their way back to the Liberty, the ambiance of the night finally coming through to soothe them. Marinette glanced down at their joined hands, then at the wide smile on Luka's face, the latter clearly caused by the former.

She looked ahead at where they were walking, pretending that she hadn't just been admiring him. "We could always go out for breakfast together. That might work out."

"That sounds amazing." Luka feigned a look of thoughtfulness. "Maybe Shadow Moth doesn't like mornings?"

Marinette squeaked mid-giggle. "You'd think that'd be the case from the name, huh?"

He chuckled, covering his mouth with his free hand, and the conversation remained light from there. Any bad feelings from the day had evaporated, leaving only smiles and hope for the future in its place.

Everything was going to be okay. For once, Marinette could truly believe that.

[hamliet]

Dabi’s Missing Heart

So I’ve been seeing two main responses to Dabi’s character as portrayed in BNHA 292, both of which I feel touch on a very surface understanding of his character and role in the story despite seeming like opposite takes.  

Take #1: 

Dabi is an unfeeling monster created to show the redeemability of Shigaraki and Enji in contrast with his true eeeevil villainy! He will never be redeemed! 

Take #2: 

Dabi is a sweet softy who did nothing wrong! He will never be redeemed because of this chapter which is so out-of-character! 

Note how they both have the same endpoint. I’m not actually gonna address the redemption question much because I can’t fathom what this panel foreshadows if not Touya’s salvation (alive): 

I’m not looking to debate this either; I’m just putting it here because I know it’ll come up if I don’t.

Instead, I wanna address Dabi’s character. He’s my favorite, and I’ve been asked a few different times whether I enjoy him as a villain or as an uwu poor baby, and my answer is always both. 

Dabi is a villain. This chapter’s rampage is, in my opinion, not remotely out of character for him. But neither is it the summation of his character, and he surely is not meant to make Enji look good by comparison. 

So, who is Dabi? 

Dabi is kind of a flaming jerk, and that’s why I like him. He’s an abuse victim who gets to be angry and crass and sharp. He pushes people away because he doesn’t want to open up to them and get burned (heh). He’s just like Shouto in that, except with a dose of murder. 

Believe it or not, this is a very realistic response to abuse, and very common too. It’s good to see that representation. If the writing was indeed just “he’s bad get rid of him,” well, that would of course be a terrible representation. But seeing a mean victim get redeemed? Now that’s some good sh*t I’m here for. 

If you want a sweethearted, misunderstood soft victim, there is one in MHA, and that’s Shigaraki. Dabi is not these things, but that does not mean he’s not a victim or that he’s somehow an unfeeling monster.

You see, Shigaraki is a heart character. Dabi’s the mind. (Heart and mind characters are a literary pattern that is utilized in literature across the globe; it’s not an eastern/western cultural thing. It has its roots in alchemy.) The problem is that you can’t have a heart without a mind nor a mind without a heart. If you lack one, you’re missing half the picture, and you won’t accomplish anything. 

We see this with Shigaraki in his quest to look for ideals, something to believe in, purpose to justify/enable acting on his feelings/emotions. 

Dabi, in contrast, has conviction and ideals, but eschews any kind of personal connection and care. 

So, both Shigaraki and Dabi struggle to unite heart and mind--but they need to do precisely this. 

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki expressly envisions both Dabi and Himiko when musing on what his purpose is. 

Yet Shigaraki is able to unite more easily with Himiko as opposed to Dabi because Himiko is also a heart character. She claims to be motivated by extreme empathy that warps around to become a lack thereof (wanting to be who she loves).

Shigaraki’s motivations are basically revenge for hero society not saving him--which encompasses both a deep internal and external (societal) need for empathy and a need for better ideals. Shigaraki needs Himiko and Dabi. They’re a trio, and all of them need each other to grow. But Himiko, being similarly driven expressly by emotions, is easier for Shigaraki to understand and work with. 

The irony is that Dabi is actually a very, very emotional character as well. But what he does (as is typical for a mind character) is repress them, compartmentalize, dissociate. He constantly pushes people away, yet admits privately, to himself, that he’s primarily (and paradoxically) motivated by family. This is emotional, yet Dabi claims he “overthought” and, according to other translations, “snapped” can be actually be read as “went crazy” as a result over overthinking (note: both are mind allusions). 

Dabi repressing who he is--Todoroki Touya--is symbolic of him repressing his emotional side, because again, family and emotions are tied together for his character. Now his identity is acknowledged, and Dabi claims to be losing his mind (again), claims that he can’t feel, and yet is completely consumed by emotions. Like, does anyone think he’s being methodical and calculating this chapter? 

It’s not just negative emotions (rage, hate) that drive Dabi in response to his family. His seeking belonging and emotional connection is present even in a chapter where he tries to murder two members of his family and laughs off the risk to the life of another. 

See, Dabi first asked Shouto to validate his pain:

But like, given the circumstances, of course Shouto doesn’t really respond well. How Shouto responds is this: 

Shouto’s words are triggering. And keep in mind I am not blaming Shouto: he’s in shock and he’s a kid. I’m merely trying to explain how it likely comes across to Dabi. 

You’re crazy. Your feelings don’t matter. You don’t really care about Natsuo! You’re a villain and that’s ALL you are. Not a brother or abuse survivor. Just a villain. 

So, uh, yeah, Dabi then retreats back to being unable to feel, dissociating as has always been his coping mechanism. But that’s not all: Dabi’s been repressing for so long that of course he’s gonna go a little insane in response to the dismissal of everything he’s trying to point out. Why wouldn’t he? His family dismissed his pain back then and now again, and so, without that heart, without those emotions, principle is all Dabi has. This has been present since long before Stain’s ideology came into his life: 

Now, he answers this question of existence through Stain’s ideology.  Purpose is all he has, and to him, Shouto and Best Jeanist are dismissing that too. Why are they dismissing it? Best Jeanist dismisses him for an ideal: the overall good of hero society. Shouto has a mixture of this ideal and also like, genuine shock and pain. 

Back to Dabi. Dabi’s summation of himself and his purpose is incorrect and harmful to himself and others. I’m not excusing him or justifying, just explaining. It’s a tragic reflection of what Endeavor raised both Touya and Shouto to be (and thereby ironic that BJ uses an ideal to dismiss him): 

Instead of being raised to be the symbol of hero society--as Endeavor intended--he exists to destroy it. The root is the same: Dabi assumes he exists for hero society, as a tool. He dehumanizes himself, hence why his quirk physically harms him (which also fits his almost religious zeal for Stain’s ideology). But it is not all Dabi is. He’s not a tool, he’s a person, but to acknowledge he’s a person involves acknowledging his heart/emotional desires, and that gets to my next point.

Dabi’s not a reliable narrator about himself. At all. I’ve written about Dabi and dissociation before. So let’s look at Dabi’s devotion to his ideals, the ideals he puts above people and claims he only cares about... because there are moments where Dabi goes against those ideals. 

For one example, Dabi’s gone against those ideals when he’s allowed his personal need for revenge (an emotional/heart motivation) to overcome his longterm plan. Like, he was fully about to get himself killed here, even though that would likely mean no one would know the corruption of the Todoroki family and hero society, just for the chance to prove to his father that he hurt him. 

In addition, I’ve talked before about how Dabi’s the only character in the entire damn manga to comment that maybe using child soldiers is not okay. While it’s not explicitly stated, it’s reasonable to conclude that Dabi considers the abuse of children in hero training a sin of hero society that ought to be purged (hence, part of his ideals). 

That said, I have also pointed out that Dabi has gone after children in the past when it benefits his mission (Bakugou would like a word). So let’s look at four examples of Dabi and his principles concerning kids--since, after all, he claims to be motivated by heroes who hurt kids. 

Firstly, Dabi’s “save the cat” when he spared Aoyama. 

Why did he spare Aoyama? We can only speculate, but it seems quite likely there are two reasons: 1) hurting Aoyama would not add anything to his overall goal of downing hero society, and 2) a terrified, cowering kid might just have been a teeny bit familiar to Dabi. Here, his ideals--destroying hero society--either take a backseat to a reflection of his personal pain (and)/or his ideal of not abusing kids directly contradicted his ideal of bringing down hero society. But the important part is that in this instance, Dabi chose mercy and the goal of bringing down hero society was jeopardized as a result. 

So then why did he attack Tokoyami, Nejire, and Shouto this arc? Well, Dabi does things he knows are wrong for the sake of accomplishing his overall purpose. He does things he knows hurt himself for this purpose. This isn’t new. If he can’t be acknowledged, can’t exist as a person with emotions, then he at least will ensure he still has a purpose.  

In addition, let’s look at what sets Dabi off in all of these instances. (Again, this isn’t me saying “well actually Dabi’s justified.” He’s not. I’m just pointing to what’s in the text to explain the machinations beyond “bad guy do bad.”)

Dabi tries to reason with Tokoyami, pointing out that Twice was doing essentially what Tokoyami is doing: trying to save his friend(s), but Tokoyami doesn’t listen (also again: not me saying Tokoyami should have listened--realistically, in this situation, it makes sense Tokoyami trusted his mentor!)

Only after his reasoning was rejected did Dabi go to flames mode. He could have just let Tokoyami save Hawks, but instead he really wanted to kill Hawks and that overrode his other principles. Was this just because of his furthering his goal--killing the #2 hero would help destroy hero society--or because of a sense of personal revenge for Twice? That’s open for interpretation (in my opinion, it’s likely a mixture, because again, it tends to intertwine more than Dabi likes to think it does). His principles and/or emotions are brushed aside, and Dabi Does Not Like That. 

Dabi does this again with Shouto this chapter, asking him where he stands on their family issues, and gets brushed aside, and then Shouto goes into his rage mode and Dabi responds. Again, not saying Shouto is rational here or that he should side with Dabi’s murderous plan, but like, his words really don’t come across well to Dabi. 

Dabi going after Shouto after explaining things, asking Shouto for help, and then having his pain dismissed is pretty much a repeat of Tokoyami. When Dabi’s pain is dismissed, he says fine, let’s aim for the highest principle possible: making Stain’s will a reality, and damn any emotional ties. 

Dabi’s obsession with ideals, you might say, is a smokescreen to cover his own pain. Far from feeling nothing, he feels very deeply. (I promise I’m getting to Nejire.) 

So what does this indicate? Well, that Dabi does have a heart and a conscience. But when he lets his heart act, when his heart reaches out, he gets burned. His heart jeopardizes his overall purpose, so he most often dissociates himself from it. But by pretending he doesn’t have a heart, he dehumanizes himself, and he projects that dehumanization onto others (see: seeing Shouto as an extension of Endeavor, when that’s actually the precise image Shouto is trying to shed). 

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki has been unconscious during the entire confrontation with Endeavor, nor is it a coincidence that Himiko has been MIA. But, Shigaraki wakes up a bit this chapter not only when hearing Dabi spout about how hero society needs to burn, an ideal/the thing Shigaraki lacks, and through a less important but still-ideal-driven character in Spinner asking him to accomplish his supposed ideal of destruction, but when Dabi saves Shigaraki and Spinner. 

Dabi doesn’t burn Nejire for lols (not that this makes it better because it doesn’t) or even for ideals. He burns her to save Shigaraki and Spinner, because they are his links to full humanity right now. 

(Again, this is also dissociation and projection: Endeavor did this! No, Dabi, you did. You’re perpetuating violence against kids rather than stopping it.)

But anyways, when Dabi calls upon heart, Shigaraki wakes. He lends Gigantomachia and thereby Dabi and the league power. 

Dabi can only grow and actually accomplish anything related to his ideals (fixing hero society) through accepting a heart--even though that will likely mean some painful surgery to shift his ideals to accommodate said heart, because pure ideals don’t leave much room for humanity. He needs to feel to actually change anything, because right now he’s just making things worse (hence, the need for saving and redemption).

I know the League aren’t the protagonists of the serIes, but their complaints aren’t exactly incorrect either (if anything they’re almost a little too valid). But through growing together, Dabi, Shigaraki, and Himiko might actually be able to accomplish something, and get themselves in a place where they can be reached and saved by Shouto, Deku, and Ochaco. Because to be saved, the kids will have to acknowledge the villains’ pain and complaints, and do something about it. 

[ignitification]

What the Future Holds

“It is the temptation of war to punish; it is the task of policy to construct.” (Henry Kissinger). 

There has been a lot of debate around what is going to happen after (the heroes win? AfO is defeated? The Villains are saved? - are all valid hypothesis), right at the end of BNHA. Long ago, though, someone asked - what would be the reaction of the civilians at large when this all goes down? We know for a fact that while, more or less, our protagonists are in the loop of what exactly went down with the villains (or at least that they have not had a lot of positive experiences and possibilities to grow up as good as them), the civilians know close to nothing (apart from Touya’s broadcast, which in hindsight should be at least enough to make space way for the possibility of civilians understanding the woes of the villains and trying to accept the change which this ending will brings, and yet) when it comes to this matter. Will they be able to accept ‘a hero’ saving ‘a villain’? Will the change in society, the abolishment of a Quirk Society in general and the aftermath of the war (likely the cancellation of the hero rankings, and just the demotion of the title hero as profession) be accepted eventually?

While these are question to which I would like to answer ‘It depends’, I’d say that it might be the case, but the change will be slow, gradual and likely painful. Let’s take the example of Heteromorph Quirks, which, so many years after the discovery and establishment of quirks, are still looked down upon. This highlights the struggle with which this society adapts, and that it adapts to only certain parts of the society (which are usually the pretty parts, while the ugly ones are or ignored or just thoroughly refused to look at). It is the same principle we see in not only the narrative of Lady Nagant (and the rose-colored glasses with which civilians see society and pro-heroes), and the villains themselves (as their Quirks made them unfit for the general public to be displayed or used) but also in the same narrative which Izuku carries - he struggles to accept himself as someone who is Quirkless, and takes his chances to inherit All Might’s power, a little because of his dreams and more because that way he can also be part of that same society who treated him like shoe’s dirt before he gained ‘power’ and a standing as a UA student with a Quirk fit to be a hero.

We can see and take a little bit from what is probably going to be the reaction to the ending, both by seeing the reaction we have to Dabi’s broadcast, the press conference of the Top 3 and Izuku going rogue and looking villainy, as well as the public’s reaction to him coming back to UA.

Being likely familiar with these scenario, it definitely does not hit as a positive-filled situation, but rather the outage of the small mindedness and the expectancy of a perfect world division in villains and heroes by the civilians. Yes, it is the famous panel of the dichotomy of heroes and villains and look who already did foresee this so long ago: a villain, which is hilarious in itself but also pretty logical if you think about it.

The thing is, that as told millions times before the core problem of this society is that it does not understand nuance (and so doesn’t this fandom, for that matter): everything should be white or black, good or bad, hero or villain. But in reality, this dichotomy falls short of understanding what is hidden behind the curtain: the ugly truth of the fact that sometimes there is no good or bad, and that maybe sometimes the good is not as good and bad is not as bad. And as said million times before again, this stems from the fact that a. society has been kept in the dark from the deeds that the HPSC has done all these years, therefore conditioning and manipulating society into believing that a distinction exists; and b. it is rather easier to separate the good and the bad guys by a simple principles like a working label and to stick to it, even in front of rather compelling evidence. In the end, it is clear that the public has trust issues at their finest, but it then shows what a shaky base these society has been built on: a rather fine balance, which has been topped over once the castle of cards has been knocked down. 

It is in the hands of the new generation then, to attempt and change how thing have been so far. Retributive justice, just like in the quote above, is always tempting - and it is no brainer that it will be likely very hard for the civilian to accept whatever is thrown at them in the end, which does not involve the imprisonment and therefore the punishment of the villains. But at the same time, it is also true, that slowly but steadily things are staring to look up: we have Shouto who wants to save his brother, and Izuku who instead is trying to understand the villains and why they become such, stemming from his will to understand and help Shigaraki. After all, their main power is to change things up: a change which, hilariously, can be seen concretely by Bakugou’s words in chapter 323. Bakugou, who is a byproduct of that same society, is admitting his faults and the fact that it happens at this moment is likely a foreshadow for a major scale change: after all, the entire society owes an apology to the villains, big time. It is not a case then, that the narrative is putting everything to its places and showing us the before, and the tough process of change and the consequences of it. In this scenario, Izuku, Shouto, Bakugou, Ochako and generally the UA kids play the role of policymakers: they are looking in the future, trying to get an overview of the situation which they know as true and the one the villains consider as true and then trying to do ‘the right thing’: unfortunately, there is never a right thing when it comes to these matters, and no shoe-fits-all solution. It will therefore be interesting how exactly things will play out and whether society (in a not so distant future) might accept the fact that the villains can be victims, and in search for the satisfaction of that same retributive justice they are trying to enforce on them. In my opinion, the effort made by the young generation in this matter will be crucial: some people will refuse to accept such a thing (blaming the villains for everything that went wrong since day 1), other will struggle with accepting it and likely will remain neutral (which, in hindsight, is even worse as it is somehow similar to the civilians that thoroughly ignored Tenko when we was clocharding of the streets) and the who begrudgingly might accept the fact that exactly like Dabi said, pro-heroes are not always heroes in private too and they have as much harm potential as villains, it just does not get publicly displayed. And maybe, slowly, society will come to the consensus that while not always the case, offering a hand to those who struggle, might save a life - and why not, maybe at one point they will stop classifying people as ‘heroes and villains’, and instead accept themselves as humans altogether. But such is the human struggle: lost in the will to put a label on things, and forgetting that unlike labels, humans have the infinite capacity to grow, expand and change.

[keilemlucent]

while your currently drunk you can think about what it would be like to go clubbing with keigo. His possessive nature would def jump out wanting to keep you close at all times. you’d rock against his body as he holds you close keeping a keen eye but also enjoying the way your body sways over him. if he’s also inebriated who’s to say he won’t press you against the nearest wall rubbing himself against you and whispering in your ear how he could take you right here and now 🥰🥰 just a lil something 

i am seeing this sober (and with my hangover cured lmao) BUT lemme tell u... the clubbing keigo brainrot is oh so 😩💕

(nsfw)

warnings: dubcon, a little yandere keigo, alcohol, drunk reader, drunk keigo, public sex, dacryphilia

...

Keigo is particularly possessive. Not necessarily in a way that is a cause for alarm, but more so something of note.

You've come to expect the way he hovers close to you in public. How he always wants to have his hands on you, whether that be the firm press of his palm on your lower back, or a tight grip on your waist with his chin hooked over your should. Really, any way he can, he stakes his claim.

It's a little more overt and shameless when the environment allows it to be.

Occasionally, there are small clubbing events for heroes and their company to unwind. Usually open bar. Frequently messy. But cell phones are confiscated at the door, so it's more than welcomed. Heroes really never get a chance to be, so why not be sloppy together?

Keigo loves to take you to them. He loves getting the chance to show you off and let anyone who looks your way that you are his. He curbs the urge in public, sure, but here? It doesn't matter. Here, there's hungry eyes that follow your every move, but they wouldn't dare try anything. Keigo doesn't let you out of his sight. Doesn't stop touching you, and he makes sure that anyone who looks sees how fucked you are for him.

After a few drinks, you’re bolder. Your words slur a bit, not enough to make him worry, but just enough for the sway and circling of your hips to be a little freer. You can get a bit bashful around so many pros, but with the stain of liquor on your lips you’re more than happy to dance the night away.

Keigo adores it. Loves that he gets to hold your hips almost to the point of bruising as you giggle and twirl to the club beats. He loves how unrestrained you both get to be, loves how you rock against him, back arching and neck craning to nuzzle of your nose against his jaw. He can’t tell if you’re just being sweet and gracious or quietly asking for more. 

He has subtle restraint, he always does, but with a few shots having burned his throat earlier in the evening... it’s easier to indulge. He guiltlessly drags you back into him, grinding against your ass. You roll your hips back into his, leaning into his wandering touches. He can feel your breath hitch as his hands slip lower and plays with the hem of your dress. 

Keigo wishes he had an ounce of shame (no, he really doesn’t, this is way too good) as he backs you into a darker corner, wings ruffled and raised. He gets a little rougher, pushing you up against the velour-covered wall, chest first. You flatten to it and brace yourself with sweaty palms. Sweet as can be, you flash him wobbly, wanting smile. You grind back into him, spine curved perfectly under the satin of your dress.

He knows people are watching, and honestly? Let them. Let them see how desperate you are. The strobing lights and neon obscure you enough that the details of you will be hidden, but they’ll know. Keigo’s wings ruffle at the thought debauching you in front of the impromptu, wanting crowd.

He lays his body over yours, feathers shuddering in time with his heavy breath. You’re rolling your hips back into his crotch, his cock is hard enough that he’s leaking (who knew the thought of casual ownership got him off this much?)

His lips drag over your neck, teething at the soft juncture of your shoulder. You moan his name, voice cracking with desire that makes him wild. His forearm braces next to yours, and he presses you into the wall, makes you feel the weight of all of him, wings and lean muscle. 

He pulls from your neck with a growl and can’t help but pleased with the fat bruise he left behind.

“I should bruise you a collar of these,” He drips into your ear, teeth tugging at your earlobe. “If fucking you here doesn’t show everyone whose you are, that would get the message across, don’t you think?”

Your breath hitches from under the palm he slips over your lower tummy.

“Please, Kei’.”

He doesn’t know what exact thing you’re begging for, but he’ll give you everything. Anything. He rucks up your dress, and a hand slipping down the front of your panties and teasing along your slit, debating.

If he were at home, he’d take the time to prepare. He prefers to work you open on his fingers and tongue for a good while before fucking you. He doesn’t feel... right fucking you without you cumming once, twice, three times (as many times as you can stand), Under normal circumstances. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

His hold slips from your hip to your jaw, turning your gaze to his and goddammit, if the sight doesn’t take his breath away. Your eyes are glassy, pupils wide and inky, and your lips are parted, perfectly. Wanting and waiting. 

(He briefly debates fucking your throat but decides against it. He’d prefer to lick you clean on the limo ride home.)

Keigo presses his lips to yours, stealing your breath and licking into your mouth. It’s sloppy, he can feel the spit dripping down your chin as he massages your tongue with his. It’s fucking filthy and he loves it. The liquor is just making him ab bit more... honest.

He pulls away to unbutton his pants, untucking his breezy shirt to pull out his cock with a few lazy strokes. The little whine you give has him back on you, covering your body with his and teasing you sex with a single finger over your panties. 

“I’d make you beg,” he muses, softly against your ear again, “But I have a feeling you’re a little too impatient to do so properly.”

You sputter something, whether it’s a denial or affirmation, Keigo doesn’t care. He’s already pulling your panties to the side, and slipping two fingers between your lips, hardly prep at all things considered. 

Keigo spits down onto his dick and calls it good enough.

You rock back into him, shuddering and panting. You’re unabashed in it, ignoring the eyes in the room, all of your attention on him. The thought makes his cock twitch in his hand, and he can’t wait any longer. 

He hikes one of your legs up high and spears into you in one swift motion with a beat of his wings.

Your breath punches from your lungs and your palms smack against wall. You’re already weak in his arms, from the alcohol and Keigo’s thick cock splitting you. Despite the lack of preparation, you’re less tense than you could be. Thank god for vodka. 

All the same, Keigo starts slow. He wants you to hurt when this is over. He wants you to bear his bruises and imprints. You should be limping when he’s done with you. He’ll take care of you at home, patch you up how you both like so much, but for now--

He wants to leave an... impression.

Keigo picks up at his pace, gasping out a breath as he bottoms out, grinding against your ass and insides in a way that has you clenching and slurring out little pleas for more. And god, he’s happy to oblige.

He picks up his tempo, hand slipping tightening around your jaw, tucking your face to his and nipping at your lips. Your claw at the wall in front of you, but all of your leverage is in Keigo’s hands, and he uses it well.

The beat of the of the club music is the perfect tempo, the thump of it mostly disguises the slap of his hips against yours. But even the shadows of the rainbow lights can’t hide how he’s fucking ruining you. You’re hiccupping out cries for ‘more, please Keigo!’ loud enough that a few of his fucking colleagues have inched closer. It makes something in Keigo burn and he quickly goes for your neck again.

And sinks his teeth in hard enough for you to sob. 

It has you clenching around him, and he knows he isn’t going to last much longer. The rhythm has his insides clenching, and he wants nothing more than to fill you up--

The thought of it, of you leaking with him, has white explode around the edges of his vision. 

He spills inside of you, thick and hot and you gasp at the feeling. You fumble for his hand, and Keigo clasps yours easily, squeezing. The cant of his hips goes sloppy, just like the two of you. 

Softened, he slips out of you.  But Keigo is quick to replace his cock with two fingers, plugging you and tsking.

“You didn’t cum, did you, dove?”

You shake your head, still half-crying and needy, “N-no, I d-didn’t.”

“Can you keep yourself upright if I fuck you on my fingers?” Keigo muses, though it’s a genuine question. “Be honest.”

You swallow and rub at your wet, streaky cheeks, “I d-dunno. ‘M really shaky, Kei’.”

He already knows that, but it’s cute that you tell him like he’s not the cause of it.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got me then, isn’t it?” Keigo kisses your cheek, too kind for how filthy you are. “I’ll keep you up, sweetheart.”

You nod, give a little ‘thank you’ that gets broken as he spread his fingers in your cunt. His own cum drips down his wrist and he can't bother to care. He can’t bother to care about anything that isn’t the sweet little whines or the flush that is dusting your cheeks beneath tears and smeared makeup.

He bullies the bundle of nerves inside you without any care other than making you fall apart. Maybe it’s bad, the desire he has to force you to come undone by his hand in front of his peers. You’re his partner, and a bit illusive consider the relative secrecy of your relationship. 

What a goddamn introduction.

He slips another hand around your front and rolls your clit beneath to fingers. Keigo can’t help sucking another bruise into your neck, like the first one wasn’t enough of a statement. 

He speeds up his treatment as you breath gets more ragged, as you repeat his name to the flash of the strobes and lean back into him. You tense around him as you cum, crying out with a thump of your head against the wall. He holds you through it, not slowing or faltering as you shake and sputter.

Carefully, Keigo lets down the leg he’s had pinned. He anticipates how they falter, and already has an arm around your waist to keep you upright. 

“Thank you,” You murmur, your voice gentle and soft. Far too soft for what you’d just done. It’s sweet though, the way you’re pliant for him as he straightens you up.

You’re filthy, thighs covered in a mix of him and you. Keigo’s damp in his own boxer briefs and it’s not exactly... comfortably. And certainly not ideal for dancing.

You turn toward him. Your arms wrap around his neck and god, you’re too cute as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. Maybe you’re sobering up, or maybe you’re cock drunk, he isn’t sure. But it’s the same comfort that you need. He smooths a hand up your back, laying kisses over your temples and hair lines.

His colleagues are still watching, maybe more than before, because Hawks has a reputation for being a greedy, impulsive bastard, but what he doesn’t have is any reputation for being sweet. 

The vulnerability of it has him moving his wings to encircle the two of you. A bit of much-needed privacy. 

“How about I call us a ride home?” Flying drunk is never good idea. (He found out the hard way.)

You nod, gripping the front of his shirt, “I don’t think I can’t dance anymore.”

“I imagine you can’t, huh, dovey?” He teases with another peck to your cheek. 

You whine and beat his chest with your fist for a moment without a hint of ire. The night is still relatively young but given the drink in your veins and the cum in your cunt, perhaps it would be best to turn in for the evening.

(Or Keigo could fuck your throat on the ride home. The thought is still appealing.)

You mutter something unintelligible against his neck, and Keigo silently reminds himself to make sure you drink a bottle or two of water before bed. Maybe he can get a snack in your belly before you knock out for the night. 

(Or, maybe, Keigo could have his own ‘snack’ by cleaning your cunt with his tongue as you doze off--)

Keigo purrs with his thoughts as he tucks his wings to his back, ushering you to the exit, all the while feeling the (horny, jealous, surprised) stares of his colleagues at his back. 

[lokiprompts]

Melodies For Wellness - Chp 1

Summary: AU - Negotiations with Norway are taking longer than expected to set up New Asgard. Meanwhile, Asgardians make Stark Tower their new temporary home. This multi-chapter fic details the relationship Loki and the "Wellness Coordinator" of Stark Towers who is tasked to help the Asgardians transition to life on Midgard.

Warnings: None

Words: ~2600

Chapter 1: Orientation

It was a new day for the people of Asgard. Their home was destroyed because of Ragnarok and with Thanos defeated, they waited in their new temporary home: Stark Towers. Turns out, negotiating with Norway to house hundreds of aliens is more complicated than anyone could have imagined. This is how Loki, along with his fellow Asgardians, found themselves as refugees in the heart of New York City and dropping their bags in their new rooms.

Loki was one of the lucky ones and received his own private room; perks of being a prince and brother of an Avenger while others were rooming three to four per room or flooding the common areas. With a heavy sigh, Loki entered his room and looked around. It was a quaint one-bedroom apartment with a small living room and kitchenette. These quarters weren’t fit for a prince by any means with its sterile walls and basic furnishings, but it will do. On the kitchen counter was a plant with a card. Loki picked up the card, flipped it over to examine it and then opened it.

Your Highness, Prince Loki of Asgard,

Welcome to Stark Towers! I understand that you and your people are here under terrible and horrific circumstances. My condolences and grief cannot be expressed enough, and I truly hope we can make your temporary stay here at Stark Towers as bearable and welcoming and possible.

I am Y/N, Wellness Coordinator at Stark Towers and I am hosting an orientation meeting today at 5pm in our main conference room for all the Asgardians. The Tower is quite large and can be overwhelming, so there is a map of the Tower included in this letter. I will be reviewing the status of your soon to be home in Norway as well as initiatives to help your people transition to life on Earth.

I have heard of your heroism and vital part in saving your people and getting them here to Earth. Thor has shared many things about you and I greatly admire you! I think it would be vital to have your support for these initiatives and programs. It is my hope that your presence will encourage others to attend. If anything, I would love to talk to you about how we can best help your people.

Please consider this letter a personal invitation to attend. I sincerely hope you do, as I can’t wait to meet you! I also hope you enjoy the plant I left you as a housewarming gift! I always thought that plants make a place feel more like home. It is relatively easy to care for, but I am happy to give any tips you wish.

Sincerely,

Y/N/L/N.

Loki scoffed at the idea of anyone considering him, the Dark Prince, a “hero”, but he was intrigued. He gingerly touched the leaves of his new plant with the pads of his fingers and felt the corners of his mouth tick up at the gesture. It was foreign to him to have someone go out of their way to make him feel welcome, well anywhere. Yet, he still debated on whether he should go to this so-called “orientation” or not. He agreed that his presence could greatly affect and influence his people and he also agreed that they likely would need some sort of help transitioning to a brand-new planet. Most of his people are not as well traveled as he was when it comes to the cosmos. But would they truly want him there? Thor was the new King of Asgard and favored prince. Surely, he was the better person to invite. Maybe he was, Loki wasn’t sure, but the feelings of inequality and being the pariah of the Asgardian royal family ran deep.

Yet, he was still intrigued by this letter and being considered a hero of all things by this Y/N. He decided he would at least attend to meet this person and extend a thank you for the hospitality. It would be the polite thing to do, right?

The time for the orientation came and Loki found himself walking down to the conference room. Much to his surprise, he did invite and encouraged any of the Asgardian’s he passed by to attend. Before he knew it, he was stepping in the conference room, and someone handed him a folder. There weren’t many people there yet, but there were a few Asgardians sitting randomly amongst the sea of chairs.

Then he saw her.

At the front of the room was a petite woman, wearing a long flowing dress that held all the colors of the Bifrost. The sun shined on her hair and she glowed; she was an absolute heart stopping vision of a rainbow of colors. She was chatting with another woman, a large bright smile on her face. Her very essence, the light that exuded from her was his own personal sun and its gravitational pull unconsciously led him right in front of her. She turned her smile to him, her petite frame just bringing her under his chin, and he lost all train of thought and his legendary silver tongue turned to lead – much to his dismay.

“Oh, hello! You must be Prince Loki. Welcome, your highness! Wow, you are tall!” She laughed and offered him her hand and he took it. She clasped her other hand over his in a comforting embrace and shook it. He couldn’t deny the jolt of electricity he felt just from this minor touch.

“It truly is an honor to meet you!” She continued to beam up at him and he found himself getting lost in this little mortal’s eyes, admiring how the sun brought out golden flecks in them. A few long moments went by as she continued to look at him expectantly, clearly waiting for a response. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Get it together, Loki!

“Y-yes, hello. You must be Lady Y/N?” She dropped his hand, and he felt an unfamiliar twinge of loss.

“Yes, I am sorry! I am Y/N. I am assuming you got my letter? I am so glad that you could make it. I really appreciate it and you being here will be so helpful to the success of these initiatives!”

“Well, I appreciate your willingness to help the people of Asgard and for the warm welcome. Though, I am afraid I am no hero as your letter said.” She smiled at him and placed a hand on his bicep.

“Well, you are to me.” He was taken by surprise not only by her comment, but also by her touch. Again, he found himself entranced by her. This time it was her smile. It was so bright, so pure, that he almost believed that he was this hero she thought he was. Almost.

She requested that he sit in the front row, insisting it will be helpful and show solidarity to her program initiatives and his people. He obliged and sat down, while grappling with the fact that he just might do anything for this little mortal if she just asked.

A few minutes passed by and more and more Asgardian’s came into the conference room, each holding their own folders. The room wasn’t filled, but there was a decent number of attendants. Y/N eventually spoke up, getting everyone’s attention.

“Hello, everyone! Welcome! My name is Y/N and I am the Wellness Coordinator here at Stark Towers and I am so glad you all could make it. I want to acknowledge and appreciate the fact that we aren’t here under happy circumstances. I want to extend my most heartfelt condolences for the loss of Asgard. I can only imagine how it must feel to lose your home. Words cannot express the heartbreak we all feel for you. So, with that said, we want you all to feel as welcome and at home while you are here at Stark Towers.

While it is meant as a temporary stay, we want it to be as enjoyable and comfortable for you all as possible. Unfortunately, negotiations with Norway are taking longer than expected. Please don’t worry! We fully expect Norway to be your home soon, but it is a matter of figuring out the where and delegations of resources to set you all up for success. And to be completely honest, us Midgardians…” She shifted her gaze over to Loki and smiled, “that is the correct term, right?”

He nodded at her, with a soft smile, and she continued with a laugh, “Us Midgardians are just getting used to the notion of alien life, so this is a bit more complicated for us. We appreciate your patience and as I mentioned, we want to ensure you feel as comfortable as possible while you are here! And it is so wonderful to have the support of one of the princes’ of Asgard!”

She turned to him, her smile never leaving her face and nodded to him expectedly. He stood briefly and bowed slightly to her.

“Thank you so much for the warm welcome. Yes, Lady Y/N is correct that the negotiations with Norway continue, but we are optimistic that we will move to our New Asgard soon! I hope you all listen to Lady Y/N and what she has to offer as she is here to help us. For that, I am grateful.”

She mouthed a quick thank you to him as he sat back down. He felt his cheeks flush and prayed to the Norns no one would notice. What the Hel is wrong with him?

“So, as part of our initiative to help you all adjust to life on Midgard, we are going to offer a series of classes and programs with that goal in mind. First, when it comes to your rooms…I know many of you are sharing small spaces and we will try to accommodate any requests or needs when it comes to your housing to the best of our ability. Any requests can go to my assistant, Nicole.” She motioned to the woman she was speaking to earlier who now sat at a desk to the side of the conference room. Nicole raised her hand and waved to identify herself.

“We also have several grief counselors available to meet with individuals and families as needed. You can also set up those appointments with Nicole.” Y/N continued, “We understand that what you went through was very traumatic and trying and we are here to support you.”

Y/N chatted briefly about some of the other amenities the Tower offered including a special training room that was now being designated specifically for the Asgardians, medical personnel, and shared common spaces. She motioned to everyone’s folders and explained that all the amenities and where they are were included in their packets.

“As I mentioned earlier, I am the Wellness Coordinator here. Most of my role here is to help the employees here, and their families, lead healthy lives. We believe that happy and healthy workers create a better and more productive work environment. This included a series of classes and programs to help educate and encourage healthy habits. Now, my role extends to you all!” She shifted her gaze again over to Loki and smiled. He couldn’t help but notice how her eyes continued to catch his as she paced the front of the room.

“With that said, I wanted to share some things about myself since I am a new face and I really want you all to come to me if you need anything at all. It is easier to do that if you know the person, of course” She said, still pacing in front of the room; her colorful dress billowing behind her.

“First and foremost, my true love is music,” Her face lit up immediately and Loki caught it. If her smile was the sun, then her love of music that shone on her face were all the stars in all of the galaxies. She continued, “I am constantly listening to music and singing, though I don’t ever sing around other people.” She said with a lighthearted laugh. A smile crept on Loki’s lips. He could get used to her laugh.

“If you ever see me out and about and you call for me and I don’t respond, please don’t take offense! I listen to music with these,” She pulled her earbuds from the nearby desk and placed them near her ear, as an example, “and sometimes I get lost in what I am listening to. Just give me a little tap on my shoulder and I am happy to talk with you! And before anyone asks, no I hardly ever wear shoes – much to Tony Stark’s dismay.”

Loki peered down towards her feet and sure enough, she was barefoot. He didn’t fully understand why, but he found it endearing. She reminded him of the light elves; luminous and resplendent.

“I love to read, and I have a lot of plants,” she continued. Ah, that explains the housewarming gift, Loki thought. “And I have my own gardens on the property. If you can’t find me in the building, you can find me there.”

Loki’s mind drifted off for a moment with thoughts about his mother who had her own gardens. This Y/N reminded him of her, the woman who truly loved and cared for him the most, and his face softened at the thought. But apparently, he got too lost in those thoughts when he realized Y/N had been calling on him.

“O-Oh yes, my apologies Lady Y/N. Can you repeat that?”

“Oh, I know these things are so boring,” She teased with a glint in her eye. Loki flinched. It wasn’t his intention to ignore her and not pay attention.

“I tease”, she assured him, “I had asked if there was peanut butter on Asgard?” Loki looked at her, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I am afraid I have not heard of this. We don’t have…. Peanut butter? On Asgard.”

“Ah, I figured as much. It is just a nut spread and I happen to be deathly allergic to Peanuts. Don’t worry, I won’t be offended by any jokes about the weak Midgardian that can be taken out by some nuts.” She laughed and some of the Asgardian’s laughed with her. Loki only frowned as he was reminded of the fragility of mortals. As beautiful and intriguing this woman is, it is probably a good idea not to get too attached. A mere heartbeat, he remembered…

“But that is enough about me! On to the programs! I will be offering a series of classes to help you all adjust to life on Midgard. One, I offer all the time, but will be adjusting to your needs. The class is simply called, “Mental Wellness” and it is just as it sounds. Tools and resources to help you be mentally and emotionally well. We talk about coping with stress and anxiety, communication, and one of my favorite topics – The Five Love Languages.” She said, with a big grin.

Loki perked up at this. His heart and his mind were giving him whiplash. He had just met this little mortal, who apparently can be killed by a mere a nut, yet he found himself enamored by her and drawn to her. The idea of talking to her about love was strangely exciting in the most confusing way.

“The second class, I lovingly named Earth 101, but I guess I should change it to Midgard 101? Moving to a new planet can be a culture shock. So, this class offers a safe place to ask questions without fear of embarrassment or judgement. No question will be considered silly or stupid. We will talk about culture, history, music – my personal favorite, of course – and basic skills including cooking and technology. Much of what we will teach, I am sure, will translate to what you already know. I understand Asgardian technology is advanced, so mostly it will be a matter of demonstrating. But, for those who need a bit more help, I will be offering one on one assistance.”

Y/N then motioned to a row of tables at the side of the room that were now covered in food and drinks.

“I thank you all for coming. Please stop and chat with Nicole and me about signing up for any of the services or classes we mentioned. Help yourselves to some refreshments and I hope you stay for a while! I would love to chat with you all and get to know you on a more personal level.”

Loki did stay back, grabbing himself some of the food and drinks offered. He made small talk with some of the Asgardian’s that attended while keeping an eye on Y/N. She made good on her word and had spent a significant amount of time greeting the Asgardians in attendance and genuinely getting to know them. Her effort was not unnoticed by Loki. Eventually, they both made their way back to each other.

“Thank you again for coming and giving your support. It is so appreciated. It turns out we will have a decent group attending these classes. Your presence was a great help with that!” She beamed up at him, clutching a stack of papers and clipboards against her chest. He really could not get enough of her smile!

“Yes, of course. I am glad to hear that this meeting was a success for your initiatives. I could tell that you put a lot of thought into the needs of the people of Asgard and it is greatly appreciated.” Again, she lightly touched his arm after hearing his reply. There is that electricity again…

“So, Prince Loki…”

“Loki is fine,” He interrupted with a wave of his hand, and she smiled and continued.

“Yes, Loki…Are you planning on joining us for any of these classes? Again, your support would go a long way, but I would totally understand if you didn’t want to. I hear you are well read and well-traveled yourself. I am sure you don’t need them.”

Her question caught him off guard. It was true what she said that he already had a wealth of knowledge of the subjects at hand. However, he was intrigued by the concept of the “Five Love Languages” and further understanding of Midgardian technology. Yet, he found himself wanting to sign up for anything she asked just to be near her. It was that confusing push and pull. He knew trying to get close to her was a bad idea, but who knows how long he would have the opportunity to talk to her? To see her smile like that? His curiosity got the best of him, and he smiled down at this tiny mortal; his new sun.

“Yes, I believe I will.”

[snackleggg]

It wasn't hard, in that moment

~~~

Angsty one shot without a happy ending. Sometimes hate can blind you to the simplest things.

~~~

This couldn't be happening.

There was no way this was happening.

But the screen didn't change as Maddie and Jack Fenton stared at the news on their TV.

" -and with all this in mind the government has not only decided to revoke the Anti-ecto act but to also give ghosts and other ectoplasmic entities that fall under that category basic civil rights. The GIW and several other unethical ghost hunting organisations are being shut down as a result and the government will soon be moving onto the inspection of smaller groups and individuals that have shown excessive malice towards these beings-" The news reporter continued on but Maddie couldn't really listen to anything else they were saying.

She didn't think it would ever get this out of hand. At first it had been small things, the impressionable and naive children of Casper high supporting that menace Phantom. Then when word of ghosts being real spread to the rest of the world other groups supporting them and their rights as people started popping up.

Now the Anti-ecto laws were not only taken down but new laws protecting the scum were put up. How did this happen?

A growl escaped Maddie "Phantom".

Of course that evil menace had to be up to this. He and his ghost pals must have mind controlled government officials. Now Fenton works would undoubtedly be inspected and shut down considering the new Ectoplasmic Protection Act.

They had to work fast Maddie decided.

If they could destroy Phantom then whatever ghostly hold he had over the government would disappear and they would all come to their senses.

Maddie stood up and started stomping her way down the stairs. She didn't even notice Jack continuing to watch the news as they interviewed some ghosts on what they thought about the situation. She didn't even notice how Jazz was standing proudly at the top of the stairs or the suspicious look Jazz threw her way when she had left.

With her new urgency it wasn't hard for her to finish a project they had in the works for a while. Her and Jack had kept it top secret so that the scum couldn't somehow find out and destroy it like they did with some of their other brilliant inventions.

The Fenton Ghost Filter was about to get a test run on the local menace.

Unlike something like the Ghost Grabber or a Ghost Shield, the Ghost Filter didn't filter ghosts from an object or just force them away. It filtered them from existence. Separating all their ectoplasm down to the molecular bond, they would become nothing but air.

It wasn't hard to find the menace. He had just finished sucking another ghost into a Fenton Thermos, Maddie still couldn't figure out where he had got his hands on one. It wasn't hard to get his attention and expertly lie about her intentions, about seeing the news and understanding how wrong she had been, about how she wanted to speak to him and make a truce.

The words were bitter on her tongue and it took everything in her to keep her expression of friendliness up and not let any venom or disgust leak into her voice.

He was obviously still cautious when he approached her. He carried himself with the air of someone ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Of course Maddie would never give him that chance.

The moment he was in close enough where she knew she wouldn't miss she pulled out her newest invention. She saw the moment he realised what she was about to do, the moment he realised she had lied and the moment he realised that even with his speed he wouldn't be able to dodge in time.

Maddie saw the fear in Phantom's acid green eyes.

She smiled.

She was proud to be the cause of that fear.

She pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down after Phantom collapsed. Not in the good way either.

It wasn't the same kind of slow as when she was about to shoot him, when she was savouring that moment, that victory.

At first it was caused by confusion.

Why hadn't he been torn apart instantly? Maybe she had gotten something wrong in her rush to finish it? Maybe a calculation had been off?

Then white rings appeared around Phantom's waist and travelled up his body.

She was tense. Was this a new power? A new attack? Thanks to those damn new laws it would be seen as self defense if he attacked her now.

Then when the rings of white light disappeared her son was left there on the ground. He was screaming.

Over the years Maddie had learned to ignore the screams of ghosts, they were all just ploys to gain her sympathy of the emotionless creatures. The screams of ghosts had become white noise to her, nothing more than a passing irritation.

But infront of her right now was not a ghost but her son. Her baby boy. He was screaming. He was in pain.

The mother in her wanted to run over to her boy right then and try and make him feel better, comfort him and make his pain stop.

The ghost hunter in her, the part of her that had been driving her every action up until that point, whispered in her ear how this was a trap. Phantom was trying to trick her like always, trying to gain her sympathy by making himself look like her son.

The two sides were at war, and so Maddie was frozen.

Then time seemed to snap back into gear, moving fast now like a rushing river.

Someone ran past her, towards Danny (Phantomphantomphantom). It took her a moment to realise it was Jazz. She was quickly followed by Danny's two friends, Sam and Tucker.

They were all panicking. All calling out to Danny, asking what was wrong, asking what happened and what they should do. Reassuring him that everything was going to be okay, though it sounded like they were trying to convince themselves just as much as they were trying to convince him.

The entire time Maddie could barely hear them over the screams, over her son's (Phantom's) screams.

Then it all stopped.

The screams cut off abruptly, like the plug being pulled from a TV.

Danny (Phantom that's Phantom it's Phantom) fell limp.

Sam was crying, Maddie had never seen her cry before. She was always such a strong girl.

Tucker seemed to be franctically looking for a plus, both on Danny's wrist and neck.

Jazz was-

Maddie felt like she had been slapped when she looked at Jazz.

Jazz was staring at her- no, glaring.

There was so much in that glare.

Jazz had always expressed a lot of emotion through her eyes, she could never really hide what she was feeling if you looked her in the eyes.

There was rage, and sadness and- what Maddie didn't want to admit looked like hatred. Unshed tears sat in the corners of her eyes as she glared at Maddie like she had just taken everything from her.

Then her eyes trailed back to Danny's (Phantom's) limp form.

He wasn't breathing. He was still, too still.

His eyes closed from when they had been screwed shut in pain.

Tucker was now also crying, he had stopping looking for a pulse.

Maddie felt bile rise to the back of her throat as she replayed the events in her head.

Maddie saw the fear in Phantom's acid green eyes. (She didn't need to try hard to imagine those same eyes as blue- sky blue like the day the baby in her arms opened his eyes and she swore to always protect him)

She smiled. (That's the last thing he saw, her smiling. Smiling because she was about to kill hurt him)

She was proud to be the cause of that fear. (She caused that fear. Her own baby was afraid of her, and she had been proud of that)

She pulled the trigger. (She pulled the trigger, she shot him, she hurt him, she killed him)

"Tragedy struck today as Amity park's local ghostly hero Phantom, whose identity was revealed to be Damiel Fenton, was killed by none other than Madeline Fenton. It has been a common fact in the town of Amity for many years that the adult Fentons have harboured a, at times, unreasonable hatred to ghostly entities. While not all the details are yet known, the broader strokes of the story are that after the government's public declaration of the Ectoplasmic Protection Act yesterday Madeline Fenton decided to act out to destroy Phantom who she and her husband had claimed to be a menace multiple times. Taking a, as of yet unidentified, weapon and lulling Phantom into a false sense of security around her before she shot him and subsequently killed him. When he died his identity was revealed to be that of her own son who, we are told, after an accident involving their prized invention, the ghost portal, became part ghost and took personal responsibility for making sure that Amity park was safe from those who wished to harm it. Madeline Fenton is being charged with first degree murder and there is currently much debate on whether Jasmine Fenton should be removed from Jack Fenton's custody-" The news reporter went on.

Jack couldn't focuse on the TV anymore. His sobs having grown too loud to be able to hear what was being said.

His wife was going to be sent to prison.

His daughter hated them both.

His son was dead.

His son had died nearly two years ago and they hadn't noticed. They hadn't questioned his strange behaviour, the falling grades, the breaking curfew. They hadn't seen their son when they looked at Phantom, hadn't recognised him.

Then his son died again, by their invention again.

He was a terrible father.

He was a terrible person.

[mountain-man-cumeth]

What Went Wrong: An In-Depth Analysis of Muriel's Route

*Youtuber voice*

Below are the opinions of an uneducated individual on what could’ve left the majority of The Arcana audience dissatisfied. I will explore the plot, tropes, themes and morals of the Muriel route and try to explain what may have gone wrong. I will be treating the game as a novel since it's advertised as one.

1. Consistency. If you are unfamiliar with the chekhov's gun; it's a story writing principle that dictates each element you introduce should come into play (foreshadowing). Now let's start with a few story beats that were later abandoned or concluded in an underwhelming manner:

Muriel's blanket

Muriel's magic mark (on his back)

Forest spirit (spirits in general)

Lucio's upbringing

Circumstances of MC's death

Figurines/whittling/charms

Muriel's blanket is teased to be a tapestry, which would tie in with his later fascination with them later on, as it had been the only thing he had left from his past. MC neither sees nor comments on the blanket, we only know it exists thanks to other playthroughs and short stories.

Magic marks are an important point in the game. Every main route emphasises on how it affects the chosen LI. It's reveal is important in a way that it serves as a passage to a new act where the reader explores magic and Arcana pantheon as they are a monumental part of the overall worldbuilding. This exact point applies to the Heart of the Forest and how spirits interact with the world around them as well.

Whittling and Charm making are the only hobbies we get from Muriel's isolated life, their introduction helps the reader humanise the character by giving us a crumb of his everyday life. It's never mentioned again after the scene where MC asks him what he does. He doesn't idly whittle during their journey and charms only come to play in an offhanded reference during reversed ending.

The other two are also ignored but I will touch on Lucio later on.

Why do these matter? A few abandoned plot points don't make or break the story but on a grander level it hinders the audience investment. When we read, we like to think the details we notice will come to play eventually, we like recognizing references that were introduced earlier. I'm sure I don't need to give examples on this one, I don't think anyone will disagree.

2. Themes. Thematic influences this story utilized are all over the place, and it seems to me like it stems from the improper application of certain tropes;

The Hero's Journey

Home Sweet Home

Shell-Shocked Vet

Last of His Kind

etc.

Some of these tropes tackle themes such as;

Slavery

PTSD

Survivor's Guilt

Genocide

I'm not going to try to explain How to Write any of these topics. I'm not remotely qualified. I think it's better if I just give examples from popular media because whether you know how to write it or not, you can still understand when it's written well;

AtLA deals with genocide and survivor's guilt. It's in the name; The Last Airbender. Aang is the sole survivor of a culture he'd only had an opportunity to engage in for a handful of years. He left them with a childish tantrum and now they're gone forever. I can't think of another mainstream series that shows the gruesome reality of war and genocide better than this one.

When Muriel realizes his true heritage and loses Khamgalai is the point of the story where Luke sees his family's farm burned down, Aang goes back to the air temple, Treebeard walks in on the demolished part of the forest. (The inciting incident)

(Could also have been forest spirit’s death but it was too early in the story so I don’t consider it a missed opportunity.)

Up until this point the hero has their doubts, they're going through the motions but they are either underestimating the enemy or they're a passive protagonist. Either way, this is the point where the hero has to take the reins of the story. What purpose does this serve in Muriel's route instead? It simply validates Muriel's beliefs. He's useless, he isn't strong enough. We as the reader need a point to see where the hero takes a step to drive the story forward or whoever takes that step will steal the spotlight, it will be their story. As it is, this is the point where it ceases to be Muriel’s story.

PTSD got the worst end of the deal. Since Dragon Age fandom has a huge overlap with the Arcana I will use Fenris as an example; for those who are unfamiliar with the character, Fenris is an escaped slave. After the sex scene he vividly describes an experience that most people can easily identify as a flashback. The game never tells us that he was abused, it doesn’t show us him having a panic attack but it shows us that whatever transpired between him and the player character clearly triggered an unpleasant memory.

Arcana tries and initially succeeds to do something similar. We see that the character is untrustworthy, sensitive to touch, easily agitated, can’t sleep outside of his perceived safe environment… It introduces us the cause later on and the story has two options, each will drastically change the moral of the story:

Remember these as they will be important later on

Portray Muriel fighting as a bad thing; You can’t fight violence with violence angle or the fact that the villain’s forcing him into a situation where he’ll have to fight again makes the villain all the more intimidating.

Portray Muriel fighting as a good thing; He has the means to defeat the villain and he just needs encouragement. With great power comes great responsibility. By not fighting he willingly condemns everyone to an awful fate and that he is selfish.

I’d like to take a second to explore the 1. Option, I feel like the game may have intended to implement that idea but failed because of the implementation of Morga and choices presented for the player character: Morga is an Old-Soldier, these characters are often push the hero out of their comfort zone in an aggressive way towards complacency, they are a narrative foil to the mentor. For the first option to work the story had to show Khamgalai acting as a mentor and having the protagonists challenge Morga’s teachings(see Ozai-Iroh). As it is, Morga’s actions are never put under scrutiny (narratively) and her death feels hollow as a result. She didn’t sacrifice herself for the heroes due to her guilt, she died because she felt a moment of sympathy for her son which wasn’t explored before, she showed no intention to change nor any doubt.

It is clear the game choose 2. Option, it is a controversial choice given Muriel’s mental condition and the game is acutely aware of this, which is likely why Muriel’s PTSD will get carefully scraped from the story from here on out. (I won’t address other instances where his trauma wasn’t taken into account, I feel like this explanation should cover them as well.)

3. Morals. Every story, whether the author intends it or not, has a moral. The Villain most often acts against that moral and in turn can change the hero's perspective. Morals are not ideals; the morality of Killmonger isn’t that marginalised people should fight for their rights, it is that vengeance is just. Whether it’s right or wrong can be debated but what makes an ideal the moral of the story is in the portrayal. How the narrator depicts the events, how people around the heroes react... all are a part of portrayal.

The story choosing “Muriel fighting is a good thing” earlier puts in the foundation of a moral. The story tells us Muriel has to fight, it’s the right thing to do. He has to be brave for the people he loves.

This choice affects how his past actions will be perceived; now, him escaping the arena to save himself is cowardly, abandoning Morga is cowardly.

The story tells us it wasn’t, but shows us that it was. This is the end of the midpoint of the story, at this point we need to have a good grasp on what we should perceive as wrong or right for us to feel invested. If we zig-zag between the morals we won’t know which actions we should root for. But more than that, the conclusion will not feel cathartic as it will inevitably demonstrate the opposing ideals clashing at its climax.

Villain doesn't necessarily have to be sympathetic and Muriel's route makes no effort to make him as such, but they need to be understandable. What danger does Lucio pose to the status quo, what makes him a compelling villain? Whether he conquers Vesuvia or not doesn’t drastically affect Muriel’s way of life, he’s been in hiding for years. He doesn’t threaten to steal MC’s body, Muriel is not compelled to pick up arms to save his beloved. He wants to protect the people from going through what he’s been through, right? That is what the story wants us to think. But what has he been through? Fighting was his choice, Lucio tricked him into it. Lucio later tricked Morga, his own mother, to save his own hide. This tells us that Lucio is a manipulator, but he doesn’t manipulate his way into Vesuvia, he barges in with deus ex machina monsters. He doesn’t demonstrate his skills as a tactician by making deals with neighbouring kingdoms to get their armies. We don’t know his strengths therefore we don’t know his weaknesses. If he seems to be losing he can just conjure a giant dragon to burn everything down, we just can’t know. That is why the application of deus ex machina is highly taboo, the victories don’t feel earned and defeats feel unfair.

4. Tone. Playing with the genre is not uncommon and a game such as Arcana has many opportunities to do so. It is a romance story, everything else is the back-drop. The tone works best when its overall consistent but tonal changes act as shock for the audience to keep them engaged and keeping one tone indefinitely gets us desensitized. We can’t feel constant misery if we are not made to feel tinges of hope in between. Good examples of dramatic tonal change (that I can think of): Mulan - arriving at the decimated village, La Vita e Bella - the father’s death, M*A*S*H - death of Hawkeye’s friend. Two of these examples are mostly comedy which is why this tonal shift affects us so, it was all fun and games until we are slapped in the face with the war going on. There are no one liners in those scenes, the story takes a moment to show appropriate respect to the dead, it gives its characters time to digest and come to terms with loss. Bad examples are the majority of Marvel movies.

In Muriel’s route there’s never such a thing, Muriel has a panic attack and MC kisses him. This unintentionally tells us, the genre being romance, that the panic attack only served to further MC’s advances. It tells us that he’s never had the control of his life and it’s yet again stripped from him by the decisions of player character. This is not the only instance this happens. The story shoe-horns in multiple cuddle sessions between important plot beats. And it does the exact opposite during a moment where he is having a heart-to-heart with the person he loves by having the ghost of Morga appear to give an ominous warning/advice.

When he runs off during masquerade it’s built up to be an important plot point. Muriel will finally face his past, he’s been running away from it all along, and he will have an opportunity to be accepted back in. MC is supportive but ultimately, it’s meant to be Muriel's moment. But as I mentioned above this is not his story anymore so he’s not given any time to address his problems, instead a ghost appears to tell him what he needs to do, again. Because we need to wrap the story up, we don’t have time.

Remember how I said the 2 Options will be important later on, well here we are at the very end. Upright and reversed.

“Portray Muriel fighting as a bad thing”

This suggests that the triumph of Muriel won’t be through violence. Maybe he will outsmart Lucio in a different way, he won’t play his games anymore. This option suggests that Lucio will not be beaten by his own terms.

“Portray Muriel fighting as a good thing”

This option concludes with Muriel finally overcoming his reservations on violence and doing what's right to save the people he loves. And bringing justice to people who Lucio hurt.

If you are wondering why the upright ending feels random, this is likely why. The ending plays out as if the story was building on the 1st option while we spent chapters upon chapters playing out the 2nd one. It is unearned.

(The reversed ending, being reversed, also uses Option 1 path but in which Muriel can’t achieve his narrative conclusion)

The Coliseum is filled with people who are on their side against Lucio’s shadow goons. Because we can’t have people being on Lucio’s side without addressing the duality of human nature, even though it’s an important part of Muriel’s story. The people who watched and enjoyed Lucio’s bloodsport are no more, they are all new and enlightened offscreen. We completely skipped the part where Vesuvia comes to terms with its own complacency and Muriel simply feels at ease because the crowd is cheering on him now. This is what happens when you give the character a chance to challenge those who have been complicit in his abuse (masquerade scene) and completely skip it to move the story along.

Muriel doesn't get justice, ever. The people only love him now because he's fighting for them instead of his own survival. Morga or her clan doesn't answer for the massacre of Kokhuri, Vesuvia doesn't answer for the sick entertainment they indulged in and Lucio doesn't answer for Muriel's enslavement. It is not even acknowledged, nowhere in the story (except the very end of reversed ending, and even then it almost gets him killed so its clearly the wrong thing to do on his part) is a choice presented where Muriel has an opportunity to get any sort of compensation where he instead chooses to move on.

I don’t intend to straw man anyone but this is a sentiment I’ve seen a lot; “It’s a short story, a dating-sim, what do you expect?”

I expect nothing, I’m simply explaining why some people feel how they feel. It is a short dating-sim but it seems to me like it was aiming to be something more by borrowing elements that were clearly far above their weight range to tease something more and under deliver. It is okay to feel content with the story, and it’s okay to feel let down. If we had a unanimous decision on literature we would never be inclined to write our own stories.

[sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw]

Immortal - 1, Introduction (kinktober)

Kaminari Denki - Electricity

Warnings: 18+ (minor dni), non-consensual touching, electricity, creepy Denki, running, not edited

Word count: 3,185 (this is longer than all the other parts)

Masterlist

Part 1 | Next

October

The month that had become dedicated to stories and decorations on store shelves that ranged from spooky to creepy. But there was a strange unsettled feeling resting in the air this year. You felt it in the cool breeze and the whispers as people talked about the missing heroes from the past two years.

It was hard to believe the year was almost over. Especially when it felt like it had only just started, but here you were. You checked the clock and found your shift was done. You promptly wrapped up what you were doing and practically skipped out, with a book in hand. On your way out, your ear caught snippets of a conversation.

"It's horrible what happened."

"I wonder if it's going to happen again this year."

Right.

Two years ago, in October, the famous incident occurred when several students from U.A. went missing during a mission they had all been on. No one could ever find a single trace of them.

You pondered on it as you walked on the sidewalk with your book tucked under your arm. The sky was a deep blue and the air you breathed in was crisp and refreshing. And you were off work for the rest of the day. Which meant you could finally read more of the book that had been sitting on your counter for the past month. And it was a perfect day to read outside.

But you couldn’t stop recalling the strange, seemingly related event that happened last year. The next year after the disappearance, also October, two more heroes who had only just recently graduated from U.A. vanished the same way. It was also around that time when they realized that the villains Shigaraki and Dabi never showed their faces again, and the League of Villains seemed to be looking for them.

However horrible the disappearances, it soon faded into past news and life went on like nothing had ever happened. However, when the calendar changed to October once more, everyone was on edge. The heroes seemed more cautious, the public held their breath in anticipation.

You did your best not to care. It put a sick feeling in your stomach. Hopefully your book would manage to distract you.

Upon finding a nice bench, with a view of the nearby forest, you sat down with a content sigh and flipped the book open. Thankfully, it worked. You slipped into the story, hardly even noticing when you flipped the page or even when the clouds began to block out the sun. You only stopped when it became nearly too dark to read the page. You looked up.

Night had fallen. Shadows stretched and covered everything like a blanket. The only bit of natural light was a dim blue that was sure to fade soon enough.

Your heart beat fast. You closed your book and started in the direction of your apartment. There were always stories. Stories you knew were real. Stories that you'd hear all throughout the whole year, about people staying out too late at night and running into the wrong people. Real monsters.

This was your plan until you spotted somethin- no, someone moving. In the darkness, it took you a moment to see them more clearly. Someone in black and gray from head to toe, not a single bit of skin showing. And one in yellow, a top hat, and a theater mask. It took a moment, but you recognized these two as villains. You stumbled back. They were on the news once, and now they were there. You could see them. They could see you if they looked, they just hadn't yet. Or had they?

Your hands shook. Your limbs were frozen for a few precious seconds. Seconds that you could have used to get away. You ran to the forest. It was the first place you thought of. Maybe you could hide in the trees if they followed you. It was certainly a better option than running in the middle of the street.

The shadows swallowed you. You rushed past the tall trees that loomed over you. Twigs snapped beneath you. The sound of your own terrified breathing filled your ears. So loud, you thought everyone could hear.

The thought of actually stopping to hide finally occurred to you. You ducked behind a tree, hoping it was wide enough to completely hide you. Your eyes darted everywhere. You stopped breathing, praying that you wouldn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Nothing. Just the wind in the trees above. The leaves were so dark they looked more black than the sky above you.

Suddenly, your eye caught something that you missed. It was large. You jumped, as if some primal instinct were prepared for a giant monster. It didn’t move. You squinted and let out the breath you were holding.

It was a mansion. There were no lights on inside of it, and the wood was so dark it almost blended in. You never heard about this being here.

You wondered if anyone lived in it. Maybe they could help you. Though, it thankfully seemed like you weren’t being followed. It would be easy to just walk up and get a closer look. With a hand against the tree, you considered your options, to stay or check it out.

Your curiosity won the day.

You stayed low, prepared to dive behind a tree or bush, or duck underneath the mansion porch's railing. Almost every sound was amplified in your ear, making you jump. Which included the sounds even you were making.

The door wasn't locked. It swung open with ease, seemingly inviting you in.

You were considering whether you should enter, when you heard a distant, deep voice behind you. Your heart leaped from out of your chest. Following the voice, now another one, were footsteps. Without a second thought, you dashed inside and closed the door.

The entrance was large and open. Two staircases across from you. Two rooms to the left and right. You stepped into the left room to peer through one of the windows. You walked closer and closer to it. But no matter how close you looked, even when your nose was nearly against the cold glass, you could only see black. You stepped back in confusion.

It was the moment that you heard the door opening that you realized there was nowhere to truly hide in the left room. You quietly ran and dove under the table in the right room. Probably a dining room. The old carpet was rough against your elbows propping you up. You willed yourself to stop breathing as you watched their feet slowly tread in.

"I don't remember this mansion wasn't here last time we searched here," one said.

The other closed the door behind him.

"Yeah. This place is cool, but a little creepy. It's old and boring!"

"You don't suppose this mysterious mansion would have anything to do with Shigaraki's and Dabi's disappearance?"

"Hopefully, definitely not! Everyone's been looking for them for a long time. But I think the voice behind the screen cares more about Shigaraki."

You couldn't hold your breath anymore. You tried to be as quiet as you possibly could, but the small amount of air you allowed yourself just made you breathe faster and heart race. What were they doing here? Still looking for Shigaraki? You resisted the urge to peek up at them. If you could see them, they could see you. But somehow even looking at just their feet filled you with anxiety. Jumping every time one seemed to walk towards you. You wished the table was lower. That there was a long tablecloth that would hide you. That they wouldn’t see you.

"We should tell Kurogiri about this. Let's just leave."

"I agree." A moment passed. He tapped his foot against the floor. "I seem to not have a signal here."

A few seconds and some rustling. "Me neither. I'll go out and make the call."

His heavy steps left, leaving the other to wait behind, but only for a second.

"Um, you might need to see this. We're screwed."

"Hm?" He promptly left, leaving you alone.

You considered getting up and running away. But where would you hide? Would you be fast enough to hide somewhere else? Maybe you could open a win-

"How… did this happen?"

"I don't know! I just walked out and saw the ground wasn't there anymore! Or the trees or anything!"

You barely concealed a gasp. The door slammed shut and you saw two pairs of feet walk in once more. They debated for what felt like hours. Your nerves were shot and it felt like your elbows had rugburn. Finally, they walked up the stairs. You waited just a little longer until you heard a door closed. And even longer, until you were sure.

You slid yourself out from under the table. That couldn't be true, right? You ran to the door on your tippy toes, wincing every time you made the slightest sound. The door opened after a gentle twist.

You looked out. And sure enough. There was nothing beyond the porch but an endless black. Not the kind of black when everything's too dark to see. Even then, the shadows had depth. This.. seemed to stretch on forever.

You rushed back in and grabbed a vase on a wooden stand. Fragile white with turquoise lines that formed diamonds. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do. You lowered the vase to the dark, one hand on the floor board while the other reached down as far as you could with the vase in hand.

The vase never touched the ground. With a sigh, you let go of it. It dropped and dropped. Fell and fell, slowly spinning… until you couldn’t see it anymore. You listened for a crash, some sign that it reached the bottom, but the only sound was your own breath.

No bottom in sight.

This had… this had to just be some sort of quirk. Some sort of… defense for someone living there. It was the only explanation. That had to be it. You weren't trapped there with no way out, right?

You sat up. You cautiously glanced into the room before stepping in. You hadn’t noticed that it should be too dark to see anything. But somehow you could, like dim light coming from a moon that didn't exist.

A red carpet led to the staircase, then split to go up each set of stairs. Between the two sets of stairs was a book on a stand. One you hadn’t noticed.

You opened up a window and looked out. The void was still there. Still wrapping around the mansion. The only thing that existed now was you and this house. And the villains.

You wrestle with your pocket while dashing to a dark corner beside a table, and ripped your phone out. It nearly fell out of your hands as you turned it on and dialed the first contact you saw. Dial tone. The number was unavailable. You texted your parents. The text couldn't get through. Zero bars. You could get onto social media or make a Google search. But you could post or message anyone. Not one word, not on a single forum.

Your hands trembled. You ran one through your hair, grabbed onto the roots, and pulled. It didn’t even hurt. Nothing to distract you from your situation.

What to do. What to do. Well, hiding there was doing nothing good. Maybe you could search for a way out. Or find the owner and tell them what had happened.

There was no way you were going through the dooring up the stairs. You wanted to avoid the villains at all costs. You picked the door on ground level to the right. Book shelves were lined against the wall. There was no dust, but something gave you the feeling they hadn't been used in a long time. No lights, but strangely lit like the room before. You walked through the next door. A bedroom. The bed was sloppily made. Maybe it was the lack of people, but something unsettled you. Nothing felt quite right. But perhaps this was reasonable considering nothing else about the mansion was normal.

You reached for the knob of yet another door when you heard footsteps on the other side. That was your chance. You should have seen who it was, if they could have helped you. But there had been almost no real sign of anyone being in the mansion up until then. Even with the used bed, what if the villains had found another way downstairs? What if they were about to catch you?

You turned and made a dash. Through every door you'd been through so far. You should have just hid under the bed, but you didn't think of it at the time. You just wanted to get as far as you could.

When you got back to the entrance, your heart dropped in horror when you saw the villains emerging from the doors at the top of the stairs. They hastily ran out of it and firmly closed it behind them.

"Who is that!?" The louder of the two said.

Blood pounded in your ears. You didn’t stop. You were already opening the door in the left room and pulled the door shut behind you, still running.

How did they get there? Were they actually following you? Was it someone else you had run from? Was any of this even real?

You lost track of how many rooms you had run into. This one was hardly any different from the others. Same dark red wallpaper. There was a wardrobe, but did that really make a difference? You stopped in front of a window. Black. The moment you stopped was the moment your exhaustion hit you. Your legs and chest ached. You glanced at the door quickly then stared at the window.

Was this real? Was this all some sick dream?

You opened up the window.

If this was a dream and you fell, you would wake up.

You leaned out, placing your hands on the farm and beginning to lift a knee. The whole time you just stared into the nothingness.

"Woah, that's not a good idea," a cheerful voice behind you said, pulling you back by your waist.

Your back hit the stranger's chest. You twisted your head back to see who it was. His blond hair was long enough to reach his stubble covered jawline. He looked to be in his twenties, and was familiar for some reason. None of the villains, fortunately.

You breathed a much needed, heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness you're not them."

“Nope, I’m Kaminari. Kaminari Denki. Wow! It’s been forever since I’ve talked with someone new. Hi, I’m Denki. Oops I already said that.”

You raised an eyebrow at his behavior. He held you a little too tightly. It was then you noticed you were too close together, with his crotch against your rump. You, embarrassed, gently pushed him away and he let go.

“Nice to meet you too. Kaminari? That sounds familiar.”

“Maybe you heard of me from the U.A. Sports Festival?”

“U.A…? Wait! Chargebolt? One of the U.A. students that went missing two years ago!??”

“The one and only.” He puffed his chest out.

“But.. what? That’s not possible. You look like you’re twenty-five or something.”

“You’re right, I am! It’s been so long since I had someone else to talk to! Did I already say that?”

He held your hand and pulled it close to him. Electricity sparked, going straight into your hand and making you jump.

“Sorry.” He smiled with concern in his eyes. “I have a little bit of a hard time controlling it now. Especially when I’m this excited.” His other hand reached towards you.

You stepped back and pulled your hand away. “Don’t touch me, please.”

He tilted his head, like he didn’t understand. But he didn’t come any closer.

"By the way, who were you talking about earlier? I’m not who?"

"Villains! They came in here after I ran in to hide from them."

“Really? What did they look like?”

“Twice and Mr. Compress. Twice has a black and gray suit, and Mr. Compress has a top hat, a mask, and a yellow jacket. Did you see them?”

“Yeah, I did. Actually, I saw them coming this way.” He pointed towards the door he had just come from.

“What!? Oh no…” your head whipped around, eyes scanning everywhere for a place to hide.

“I know a place to hide! In here.” Kaminari opened the wardrobe.

He quickly stepped in and moved to make room for you. You slid the hanging coats and clothing to one side and closed the door with just a small crack to see. It was too cramped for you. It was uncomfortably warm, but you would take it.

Your heart pounded in your ears. It was hard to see anything in the room with the small slit. Even then, you prayed they wouldn’t see you through the crack. If they did, you’d be finished with nowhere to run.

His fingers were against your waist, something you hardly even noticed because of the adrenaline. But they began rubbing circles into you, small tingles of electricity tickled you. One slipped down to the dip where your legs attached to the rest of your body. He pressed against your butt, at first you assumed it was simply him adjusting and the lack of room, but he didn't move. In fact, he pushed himself flush against you. You felt something warm and hard between your cheeks through the fabric of yours and his pants. If you tried to back away, the wardrobe door would open more, and the villains might come in any time.

"Please stop," you whispered.

He didn’t stop. He rubbed his head against the back of yours. He breathed in contently.

His hand rubbing you fell to your hip, then up again, into your shirt. You felt him drag against your soft skin. Reaching up to your bra. He made a clumsy effort to slip beneath it before squeezing and massaging it with the bra still on. Tiny sparks from his fingertips only drew your attention to this. You jolted when one ran over your nipple.

"Hey," you tried to sound angry, but it came out as a whine.

Much to your dismay, you felt your core growing unbearably warm. You wanted to stop him, but you froze. Your breaths were heavy. It didn’t help when he dipped his hand into your pants. Electricity somehow teased your clit through your panties. You barely held the moan in your throat.

"We can't be doing this," you said as a final attempt, "What if they hear?"

His lips fluttered against your skin. "Who will hear?"

"What do you mean? The villains… they are…" Did he actually see them coming?

He chuckled and ran a finger against your waistband. "We're gonna have some fun."

Next

[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 5

A/N: Hello, my sunshines! Here is the re-write of the original part 5. Hopefully it’s as good as the original, and if it’s your first time reading this, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: language, period typical sexism and misogyny

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn groaned as he sat up, rubbing away the bits of sleep that were still clinging on from his tired eyes. It was before first light and his rooms were shrouded in darkness, but he knew he needed to get up in order to prepare for his journey. He needed to leave soon in order to make it out of Sunspear before day broke in order to make the long trek that would consist of several long days. 

He hadn’t slept much the evening before, his head swimming with a mixture of different thoughts, but more anything else, he had been all consumed by you. After he had kissed you, he wasn’t sure he had made the right decision, or if he had possibly ruined everything that was building between the two of you. But when you had kissed him, unsure and hesitant at first, but then melted into his touch, he realized that maybe you had wanted this too. You had looked back at him with the absolute sweetest eyes and took it everything in his power not to grab you and pull you back into his rooms then and there.

But no. This wasn’t going to be like that. This wasn’t going to be anything like that. If you wanted this, as he was beginning to think he might as well, he needed to know for sure. He wanted everything to be crystal clear, and at no point would he want to take advantage of you.

He stood up, letting his feet hit the floor with a dull thud, finding himself reluctant to leave again. Something was calling to him, encouraging him to stay, but he knew he couldn’t. There was a job to be done and he needed to do it before addressing whatever was going on within his heart and his mind. Oberyn’s gait was heavy, a sharp contrast to how light his tread normally was, as he crossed the room to his wardrobe and lazily pulled out some clothes to wear. His morning routine was simple, but today it felt overwhelming, most likely because he was unenthusiastic to leave and would rather have stayed. Stayed and spent the time with you.

But a knock came at his door and told him that everyone was waiting on him to come down so they could all leave. Grumbling his acquiescence, he grabbed the few things he planned on taking before exiting his chambers and leaving his bag in front of his door. When he stepped into the hallway, straightening his tunic with a yawn, his tired gaze fell on your door. He slowly walked over, resting his large hand on the wooden door as he debated whether or not to come in. His curiosity got the better of him and he opened the heavy door, slowly, as to not make a sound and disturb your sleep.

Once there was enough of a gap for him, he slipped inside and walked over to your bed. You were bundled up in your blankets, only your head poking out of them, a peaceful, serene expression on your face. A smile crossed his own face as he leaned down, unable to stop himself, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. A small sound escaped your lips and he worried for a moment that he had woken you, but your eyes remained closed, and you shifted slightly as your hand appeared moved to rest on top of the blankets. He looked at it closely, finding it hard to fight a smile when he saw the wedding band on your finger, the one that matched his.

“I’ll see you soon, sweet girl,” he whispered, gently touching your face, before straightening back up and slowly retreating out of the room and closing your door again. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he grew even more hesitant to leave. This pull, this strange sensation that was washing over and drawing him towards you was getting even stronger. With one last longing look at your door, he started walking down the stairs and out of the palace. He really hoped that this wouldn’t take a whole week and it would be an easy there and back job.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey to Yronwood was an interesting one; it required travel from his home through many different parts of Dorne, all varied and different in cultures and customs. One thing that seemed to be ever present however was the warm, welcoming feeling that was ever present wherever he went. People stopped what they were doing, coming out of their homes and shops to see their prince and greet him. Oberyn was beloved by his people and he loved them in turn. 

Many stopped for even a mere glimpse of the handsome prince, waving and shouting well wishes at him. Wishes of good fortune, health, and a long and happy marriage. He had no doubt many had been eager to see a glimpse of his new bride, but that would all come in time. For now, he was happy to keep you safe and at home, while he handled whatever troubles were brewing in Yronwood. 

The various states of Dorne were something to behold; each boasted a different look and atmosphere and yet it was all harmonic and came together beautifully. Despite having traveled the world, this would always be his favorite place to be - his home. He hoped one that day you would consider it yours too. But that was another thought for another day, when he had time to show you more. Now he needed to focus on weeding out the problem, although he was sure he had an inkling of what was going on.

As soon as Yronwood came into view, an odd sensation settled in his stomach. It was still beautiful, in its own way, but a sharp contrast to the rest of the region. Instead of the vibrancy and openness of many Dornish holds and cities, Yronwood more closely resembled the Northern parts of Westeros. A slight shudder ran down his spine at the thought. While people, namely women, retained the same liberties here as they did throughout Dorne, the reality was vastly different. No one said anything, but it was...a known fact. And as it turned out, every once in a while Doran or Oberyn had to remind them of that little detail. 

“Uncle!” Oberyn was pulled back into attention from the sound of the young man’s voice. He turned and saw his nephew, Quentyn running towards him, flanking by a few others from the castle. He was grinning from ear to ear as he stopped in front of Oberyn’s horse and took the reins while Oberyn slid off.

“My boy,” he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around his nephew, clutching him tightly to his chest. The young boy was almost the spitting image of Oberyn at his; tan and lithe, with a mop of dark curls and soft eyes, and a smile that matched his own. He’d always had a soft spot for his nephew, the only boy that was ever-present in his life; in some ways regarded him as a son rather than a nephew. He pressed a kiss to the top of head, “I’ve missed you. Look at you, you’re practically a man grown.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Quentyn grinned at him; he looked up this father, naturally, but there was no denying that Oberyn was his hero. They’d always shared a special bond, “I am glad to see you again. And what of your new wife? Are you hiding her away?”

“You will meet her soon enough,” Oberyn promised, “she’s remaining in Sunspear for the time being until I can show her more of Dorne. I figured that would be best for now, and that her first introduction to Dorne should not be with Yronwood. She’ll quite like you - and you’ll like her. She’s very kind.”

“I should be glad to meet her as well,” he grinned as the men started heading towards the castle, “perhaps I can come back home soon for a visit - or better yet, for good. I know Papa thinks I should remain here but I’d like to be home with everyone else…”

“I know,” Oberyn offered his shoulder a firm squeeze, “but for now you must remain here. It’s only for a few more years; I know it seems harsh, but your fostering is almost complete. Besides - you are a Martell. You must not bow to them, you must keep them in line too. What are your words, Quentyn?”

“Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.”

“Exactly,” Oberyn grinned, “never let them take that from you. Have they been treating you well?”

“Yes,” he said as they headed into the dreary keep, “the arms master and maester are kind and knowledgeable. It’s mainly the Yronwoods themselves, Uncle. They’re…”

“Oberyn Martell!” the booming voice was commanding and Oberyn turned on his heel to find its owner.

“Anders Yronwood,” he acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. Anders Yronwood was a tall, portly man with a scarred visage and a receding hairline. He’d seen many battles throughout his lifetime, which left him hardened in looks and personality. Oberyn had always felt there was something off about him, but he never had quite even evidence of anything to prove his claims. Instead he made sure his visits were not too infrequent. The man extended his hand and Oberyn shook it, refusing to be the first to break eye contact, “a pleasure as always. I hope things have been well.”

“Well enough to cause me to wonder why you’ve made your presence known,” he laughed, a loud boisterous thing that caused Oberyn’s skin to crawl, “shouldn’t you be enjoying the company of your new bride?”

“My nephew here informed me that there were some rumors going around,” Oberyn’s hands went to his hips as he made sure to display his trusty dagger, “merchants not getting paid enough and taxes being raised and levied against the poor. All rumors of course, but I just decided to come and make sure everything is in order. There won’t be a problem, will there?”

“Of course not, your highness,” the man’s face pulled into a worried expression for a moment before he laughed and clapped Oberyn on the back, “I’ll have chambers readied for you and your men at once but for now, we’ll get a drink and celebrate the famed Dornish Prince. Now, tell me more about this Northern whore of yours. I know they’re not good for much-”

“I would choose your next words wisely, my lord,” Oberyn’s expression shifted to one of calculated anger as he raised his eyebrows, “I will not hear you refer to my wife as such again.”

“It’s a joke!” Oberyn knew it was anything but a joke, “you know how warm and giving our women are here. The ones from the North just lie there and expect you to do all the work. But I guess it doesn’t matter, does it, as long as you can find release and they can produce a few heirs.”

“I would cease to speak if I were you,” Oberyn stopped dead in tracks as he was almost trembling with anger. Such foul, vile words from a man who called himself fair and just. He was anything but, “I’m not sure if you’re aware that women are people as well? Equal, if not better, no matter where they’re from. They do not exist solely for our pleasure or for the purpose of bearing heirs. Have you forgotten that?”

“I’m just saying,” he held his hands up in mock surrender as Oberyn glared daggers at him, “my second wife was Northern - wasn’t good for much, but managed to give me some sons. Other than that it was-”

“Listen here and listen well,” Oberyn grabbed the lapels of his robe and pulled him close. For once, Anders Yronwood appeared nervous, “you will learn to treat women, and everyone else with some decency and respect, regardless of their station. My nephew will be watching you closely - everything he sees and hears, so do I. Don’t forget where your loyalties lie - House Martell. One word and you will find yourself without a name, a title, or anything you deem so important. I am your Prince, as Quentyn. Remember that.”

His mouth pulled into a thin, tight line as he nodded in silence. He knew better than to tread on the Red Viper; even he wasn’t that foolish. Oberyn let him go before shoving him out of the way; he could feel the eyes of everyone in the hall on him, “of course, your highness.”

“Good,” he stated simply, motioning for Quentyn and a few of his men to follow, “I’ll see you around.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next few days were spent with Oberyn traveling throughout the region, along with some of his most trusted advisors and Quentyn. He'd always tried to instill in him the importance of being there for his people, and taking care of them. Much to his relief, Quentyn had no arguments following in his Uncle's footsteps. 

As it turned out, rumors that the Yronwoods were participating in salacious activities turned out to just be rumors. It didn't mean however, that the people were happy with their rule. Oberyn would make it a point to bring up the peoples' apprehensions; he knew he had to deal with what was going on within the castle walls first and foremost. He noticed more and more that things were off as the days had passed and they had left him with an uneasy feeling. 

More than anything, he'd gotten to the conclusion that he was missing you. It had started off as a slow, underlying feeling, but with more and more time passing, he understood what it was. He still had so much to learn about you, and vice versa, but gods, he already missed your smile and that kind hearted spirit you openly displayed. He couldn't wait to be back in Sunspear.

On this particular evening, the prince had retired to his temporary chambers early, leaving the grand hall before the sun had even set. He was feeling restless and growing listless the longer his stay in Yronwood grew. He'd gone for a walk earlier that day, and spoken with some townspeople, but that had only taken up so much of his time. 

A heavy sigh passed his lips as he stoked the fire in the corner to provide some light and warmth. It was almost laughable; this was the only part of his kingdom that wasn't light and airy.  This was cold and dreary and the lack of light and life made his heart heavy. But it was no matter, he reminded himself, he would be home soon enough.

He settled into the small, uncomfortable and uninviting bed and grabbed his book. If nothing else he'd have something to occupy his mind. 

And for a while, it worked. At first his thoughts had kept drifting back to you and Sunspear. He wondered what you were up to, if you'd had full, happy days. He couldn't imagine you shut away and hidden like he currently was. Maybe you liked to read too - maybe at night he could read to you or you to him. Still so many mysteries that would need answers. He hoped one day that he would get them all.

As he allowed himself to concentrate on his book, a quiet, almost timid knock came at his door. Raising a brow, he decided against answering it, thinking that perhaps it wasn't intended for him after all. But then it came again, but less timid this time, followed by a quiet, "y-your highness?"

A look of confusion crossed his features as he got up from the bed and made his way to the door. He opened it with slight hesitation as he spied a young girl on the other side. She wore a thick, dark robe and a nervous expression as she met his eyes. He stepped to the side as he let her in and cast a glance down the hall.

"What is your name?" he asked, shutting the door as she looked at him with wide doe eyes, "how can I help you?"

"I don't have a name," she answered softly, "and it doesn't matter. I am a gift...from Lord Anders for your pleasure. Whatever you like, My Prince, I will do to you or for you."

"Why would he send you?" Oberyn ran a hand over tired face as he internally groaned. He knew exactly what Yronwood was up to. He shook his head to himself, "did he force you? Threaten you if you didn't come?"

"O-of course not, my prince," her face faltered for a moment as she reached up and ran her hands over his broad chest. She looked young, so young, and despite her assertion that she wanted to be there. He had a feeling that while she might not have been averse to him, she was nervous, "it is an honor and privilege to pleasure the famous Prince of Dorne." 

He sucked in a breath as she pushed his robe off of his shoulders. He couldn't  feel the inner turmoil within him start to rear up. While he wasn’t normally one to pass up such an offer, he couldn’t in good conscience have the young woman. She clearly wasn’t up to this on her own merits and he would never take advantage of another; Oberyn would be in his grave before he did that. He took a step back and shook his head. He wasn’t going to do this anymore; he was, in some odd sense, already committed to you. You’d never even told him that you wanted more than a friendly relationship, but he couldn’t help his mind from wandering back to you. 

“Please do not feel obligated to do anything of the sort,” he insisted, swallowing the lump in his throat. She pushed the woolen robe from her shoulders and let it fall into a small heap on the cold stone. Oberyn couldn’t help but look her over, immediately surprised by the fact that she was bare underneath. He knew it didn’t matter what he did with her, technically, since you’d both agreed that either of you could do whatever you wanted with whomever. She took a step closed and put a delicate hand on his cheek. 

“Please,” she insisted with an odd glint in her eyes. Part of him was conflicted but before knew what was happening, something came over him and his hands found her hips as he pushed her towards the bed. She easily complied and laid on her back as Oberyn loomed over. His hands were on her sides as he bent down and kissed with a deep hunger. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close to her, nervously kissing him back.

Before it could go too far, to the point of no return, Oberyn caught himself and looked down at her. That’s when it hit him - she wasn't you. He stopped immediately and moved off the bed, shaking his head furiously. The young girl was so startled by his sudden actions that a flush of warmth crossed her features as she worried she had committed some wrong.

"My Prince," she stammered nervously, grabbing the blanket and covered herself up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I-I…"

"No," he held up his hand and picked up the discarded robe, gently handing it back to her, "you've done nothing wrong. I'm afraid the fault is on me."

“Is everything alright?” she made quick work of dressing herself before offering him a timid smile, “I can...send someone else, if I did not please you…”

“No,” he insisted as he gently brushed back her hair, helping her tie the robe, “I won’t take advantage of this situation...besides that, it appears my heart seems to lie with my wife at this time.”

“Your wife,” she smiled slightly at the thought, “she must be very lucky to call you her husband. You’re a good man, my Prince. Much better than the pigs around here-”

As soon as her last words left her lips, a look of surprise crossed her features. Clearly, she hadn’t meant to voice her thoughts out loud. 

“I believe I am the lucky one,” did you feel the same? He hoped you did, “tell me one thing. Did Anders Yronwood threaten you if you did not come here? What did he say?”

“He…” she looked at him, searching his eyes to make sure it was safe to confide in him. He answered with a small nod and encouraged her to go on, “he has several women he favors...women that are not his wife. He considers it a gift to share them with visitors. If we do not...if we do not do as we are told...we can be punished.”

“Punished?” his brows shot straight up.

“I’ve seen it a few times,” she whispered, “they’ll get beaten until they are left a mess. I-I can’t go back, please, don’t let me go back. Not tonight. He’ll hurt me too if he thinks I've displeased you or we haven't done anything."

"Its alright," Oberyn promised her, his blood already boiling with anger. He was glad he came - apparently his little message to Yronwood hadn't quite gotten through to him. Oberyn would make sure that he received it. He must have been extremely stupid or brash in order to think he could get away with sending his gift in such a manner, "go to your chambers, and remain there. I'll make sure you're safe - now and always. If anything ever happens again you or anyone in this castle, you are to let my nephew Quentyn know. He'll get word to me and I'll be here to help however I can. You mustn't be afraid, you've got me as a friend now."

"I don't know how I could ever thank you," her eyes were closed with tears as she couldn't help but her arms around him. He hugged her tightly and offered her a few more well wishes before opening the door to her, "you really are as they say. A good, kind, and just Prince. And handsome at that. Thank you again. I hope our paths again, and that I can meet your wife, preferably under better circumstances."

"As do I," he agreed, "until our paths cross again."

He watched her go, making sure she was safe and out of sight before closing the door and locking it behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed and let out a long, wary sigh. He couldn't help himself from wondering what it would be like to kiss you in such a manner. Would you be receptive? Would you be eager and happy? Or perhaps you wanted to keep him at bay. Whatever life decided to throw at you both, he supposed he would discover your true desires soon enough.

For now, he had more pressing matters to attend. He was going to make sure Anders Yronwood knew exactly who he was dealing with. He grabbed the book he had been reading and tossed it onto the table before sliding back into bed and pulling the covers up and bundling up.

He quickly fell into a deep, restless slumber. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, all of his thoughts drifting back to you. He wondered if you could feel it, all his warm and tender thoughts all the way back home in Sunspear. It was a comforting thought to know that you were both looking at the same moon and falling asleep under the same stars. It made the world seem that much smaller. It almost felt like you were there with him, at his side where he wished you were.

The thought alone of seeing you again, that sweet smile and lovely face, was enough to finally get him off to sleep. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

If Anders Yronwood was a gruesome and horrible overlord, his son Cletus was his mirror in every worse and still worse. It was a small solace that Cletus was not the heir to Yronwood, but rather that fell to his sister, Gwyneth. Oberyn had only met her on a few occasions, but he knew she was miles above the rest of her family. It was fortunate that Dorne did not follow the traditional customs of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and only allowed male heirs. 

The Great Hall was bustling and loaded with rowdy people, causing an uneasy feeling to well up in Oberyn's stomach. It might have seemed lively, but once he looked closer, he could see that the only people having any semblance of a good time were the men of the keep. 

He rolled his eyes to himself as he grabbed a quiet seat at the end of the hall, attempting to keep hidden in the shadows. But it was no use - it continually proved to be a challenge when tried to pretend he was not the Prince when he was so easily recognizable. 

"Oberyn Martell," he was starting to hate the sound of his own name as Cletus took a seat next to him. He grimaced slightly as he turned to face the sudden interruption, "a pleasure as always."

"Cletus," he acknowledged, attempting to cut off the situation as quickly as he could. Cletus looked around and quickly flagged down one of the servants, waving her over obnoxiously as a nervous, vacant expression crossed her gestures.

"Go and get the biggest and best plates of food for myself and the Prince," he commanded as she refused to meet his eyes and nodded in understanding, "now."

"Are you always like this with people, Cletus?" 

"Only with people that deserve it," he leaned back in his chair and shrugged, clearly disinterested, "she's a kitchen wench. There's really not much to it."

"She's a person," a frown graced his features as he shook his head internally, "all people deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. What if she'd spoken to you in such a manner?"

"She wouldn't dare. I am her Lord-

"And yet still just a person," Oberyn snapped, "one who can be made to bend the knee with a single word from me."

Cletus remained silent as he stared anywhere but Oberyn's face. The silence was awkward and tense, easily cut with the dullest of knives. The Princes' fingers danced around the hilt of his dagger but he managed to stay his hand. One wrong move and it would cause an uproar. If it wouldn't have been such a risky move, he was half tempted to eradicate the problem then and there.

"Here you are my Lord, my Prince," the young woman had made a nervous return as she put two full plates of food in front of the men. They were overflowing with food that looked dry and sad and bland. There was so much flavor and spice available, yet this looked anything but. Oberyn thanked her gently while Cletus remained silent, "if there's nothing else, I'll attend to my other duties."

Before she could make her escape, Cletus grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to his level. She yelped in surprise as she tried to pull out of his clutches on instinct, "I'll see you in my chambers this evening. Don't be late like the last time or I'll have to punish you again. You don't want that, do you?"

"N-no, my Lord," she stammered nervously as he let go of her and she stumbled backwards from his tight grip. Oberyn's rage flared up when he spotted what appeared to be fading bruises along her shoulders and neck, "I will be there and on time.”

“Good,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand while Oberyn pushed his plate away. His already meager appetite had all but diminished. Cletus took a large bite, ignorantly unaware of the wrath that he had just brought upon himself, “you have to teach them...they’re not good for much else.”

“You’ve laid your hands on her,” it wasn’t so much a question as it was a direct statement. Cletus nodded lightly but kept shoving his mouth full of food, “you require her to warm your bed as well? How many others are there?”

“Maybe a dozen or so,” he shrugged, “we like to rotate through them. The one you were sent last night was one of the newest. A special treat.”

Unable to control himself any longer, Oberyn quickly pulled his dagger out and stabbed into the table between the two men, right near Cletus’ left hand. His mouth hung open at the action as he nervously looked at his Prince. 

“If I ever hear again of you touching any man, woman, or child in this castle, or anywhere, it will be the last time you do anything. You will not harm them, or require them to sleep with you,” he spat out as he grabbed his collar and pulled him close, “you will treat everybody, regardless of their position or station in life with respect. This is the Dornish way - the only way. I will have eyes on you and your family and your entire family. Do you understand me, boy?”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“Oh,” Oberyn’s lips curled up in a devilish smile, “I would. Do you really want to find out what I will do? They call me the Red Viper for a reason - but I’m not afraid to resort to calling in the Boltons to flay you alive. My word is law around here and it’s time you and your filthy father learned to respect it.”

“You have no power,” he hissed nervously, casting a glance at the dagger that could have easily ended his life. The Great Hall had grown silent as all eyes were trained on the two men, “your brother rules.”

“Aye,” Oberyn nodded, “but it just so happens I rule too. I am the Prince of Dorne, boy, and Doran’s most trusted advisor. But again, if you want to take your chances…”

“Let me go,” he insisted in panic. 

“Remember where your loyalties lie,” Oberyn’s voice was quiet and dangerously low as he leaned in so only Cletus could hear him, “House Martell. We are your power - you will do as well say or your entire family can go off to the North...maybe even the wall. This is Dorne, and you will respect our way of life. A name and a title doesn’t keep you safe; not here. I will personally come and dole out justice if I need to. My nephew will be watching closely - one wrong move and I will hear it. You even think about touching as much as a hair on his head, you will have not just my wrath to fear, but all of Dorne’s. If I ever hear of anything like this again, you will rue the day. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

"Yes," he whispered quietly as Oberyn grabbed his dagger and held it to the man's throat. Be pressed just enough to make an ident into his skin but not hard enough to draw blood, "crystal clear, your highness."

"Good," he insisted before pulling away and shoving Cletus away. Oberyn sighed  heavily as he got up and started to storm away. Before he left the Hall, he turned around and held up his arms. Every eye in the house was still on him, "and let this be a lesson and warning to everyone here. If I so much hear a whisper or breath of anything happening that goes against the laws set forth by House Martell, you will face our justice. Here in Dorne everyone is equal and will be treated with respect and dignity. If you have a problem with that, feel free to leave or you will personally face my blade."

There was small murmuring of acknowledgement as Oberyn left the hall, standing tall and proud. As much as he hated flaunting rule or power over anyone, sometimes he knew it needed to be done; equality for all was something he was extremely passionate about. They were lucky in some ways, to have him as their Prince. While he could be firm and violent, he was tame compared to some of the other Lords and rulers throughout the Kingdoms. He might have been the Red Viper, deadly and dangerous, but he was also fair and just as long as no one tread on him.

As soon as he reached an empty spot in the hall, he leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh, hiding his tired face in his hands. He’d seen more than enough and was ready to be gone from this foul place. All he could think about was making it back home to Sunspear, back home to you. 

“Uncle!” Quentyn ran up to him, barely able to contain the little smirk on his face, “is everything okay? I heard the last bit of your little speech.”

“This place is dreadful,” he sighed as Quentyn nodded in agreement, “of all the places your father had to choose to sequester you, it had to be here. I understand his reasoning, and yet the idea still makes me ill. We’ll have you home soon, I promise. For now, I want you to be our eyes and ears here. I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you can handle it?”

“Of course,” he grinned and nodded eagerly, “I’m always excited to help however I can.”

“Good boy,” he pulled him into a tight hug before kissing the top of his head, “you make us all very proud.”

“My Prince,” one of Oberyn’s men found him, a concerned look on his face, “Anders Yronwood has heard of your little outburst and he’s not happy…”

“I don’t care,” Oberyn insisted, “if he has a problem with our rules, he can leave. My word is law. Now, let us pack up and be rid of this horrid place. I want to get home and back to my wife."

"I can have everyone ready to leave within a few hours," Oberyn gave him a thankful squeeze on his shoulder, "and we'll get you back home to Sunspear as quickly as possible, your highness."

"I am forever in your debt," the idea of you waiting at home for him was enough to cast a warm feeling all over his body. He was more than ready to see you again - to kiss you again - everything. If nothing else, his time in Yronwood had been enough to give him a sense of clarity and peace. He really did want to try with you, he wanted to see you. The revelation was enough to send him in a tale spin.

"Aye," he grinned at his Prince, "we'll get you back to her post haste. Besides, the Lady made us swear to bring you back home safely. She's eager to have you back, no doubt."

"I am eager to be back with her as well," Oberyn's grin threatened to break his face in half, "and back with some decent company. Until later then."

"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken."

"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken." 

[thefirstknife]

saying that osiris letting saint die is homophobic, thoughts on whether bungie just confirming o14 on twitter never in game, then having that POC character of the relationship be the villain is ALSO homophobic? Like possessed/clone or not, its still the season where the Arabic man and Indian women are the human villians

O14 has been confirmed in game, people just can't read gay subtext. Source: the entire Season of Dawn, Festival of the Lost 2020 lore, Immolant, every lore piece about Saint and Osiris that exists in the game.

Multiple LGBT+ relationships and characters have been directly confirmed in the game. O14 had to be reiterated on Twitter because people were shittalking Bungie writers about "queerbaiting" and a mlm lore writer had to step in to clear things up.

Osiris is not a villain because it's not him. That also wouldn't be homophobic, it would be racist.

I agree that it can be seen problematic to put Lakshmi as a villain of the season. I would be very suspicious and probably highly upset about this if Lakshmi was Destiny's only character of colour and they decided to make her a villain. Fortunately, she isn't.

That's the thing with diversity: if we want diversity, then people of colour and gay people will also be villains. They have to because it's a diverse world. Destiny is one of the most diverse settings I've seen so far in gaming so naturally some villains will be people of colour. As a matter of fact, all three faction leaders are people of colour: Lakshmi being Indian, Hideo Japanese and Jalaal Middle Eastern (I know he's Awoken, but his name is of Arabic origin and is primarily a Muslim name). I think the only prominent white character for the past 3 seasons has been... Amanda? Crow is debatable because in Marasenna, Mara asserts that her family is "of no single race or ancestry." Take that as you will (considering they're blue). More or less nobody else is white, villain or hero.

I will note that the way the community treated Lakshmi this season has been very disgusting in a lot of cases. People describing how they would prefer murdering her in graphic detail was really not something I want from the Destiny community, especially considering she is coded as a woman of colour and voiced by one, as well as given her backstory as a survivor of a vicious Eliksni attack on London. Any white character, and especially white male character, would be excused until the end of times because of a tragic backstory. Lakshmi was not given the same treatment and her not being white (or male) definitely contributed to that. I wouldn't fault Bungie for it though, because the other solution is to never have a diverse setting due to the fact that the fandom is racist.

Of course, I don't think that being xenophobic, inciting a political coup and inter-species violence warrants an excuse. She should not be given one just because she's a survivor of an attack from hundreds of years ago. Lakshmi was a bad person, corrupted by her own inability to get over fear of others and lust for political power by any means necessary. Her motives are very human and understandable, despite being wrong. Being a person of colour is not a huge aspect of her character, considering she's not the only one and that Destiny as a setting features plenty of diverse characters in all roles. I am not sure what would be the alternative for Bungie in this scenario.

[lastsonlost]

Woke' warriors on San Fran school board deny gay white dad with bi-racial daughter place on volunteer parent committee because he's not diverse ENOUGH!

Seth Brenzel, a gay white father of a bi-racial child, was denied a spot on the San Francisco Board of Education's volunteer parent committee

The issue of whether to allow Brenzel to volunteer for the 15-person parent advisory council was debated for almost two hours on Tuesday night 

His candidacy faced opposition from some board members and members of the public who argued that there wasn't enough diversity on the council 

Those who opposed his candidacy were concerned with the fact that he is white 

The 15-person council currently only has 10 members: Two black mothers, one Asian-American, three Latinx, one Pacific Islander and three white 

Brenzel, who is the executive director of a music program for children, is openly gay. He lives in San Francisco with his husband and their young daughter

If approved, Brenzel would have been the only father on the council 

The issue of whether to allow Seth Brenzel to volunteer for the 15-person parent advisory council was debated for almost two hours on Tuesday night during a board meeting. 

The parent advisory council, who had unanimously supported Brenzel to join their all-female committee, had submitted his name to be approved by the school board. 

His candidacy, however, faced opposition from some board members and members of the public who argued that there wasn't enough diversity on the council - even though there are five seats currently empty.

Those who opposed his candidacy were concerned with the fact that he is white. 

The 15-person council currently only has 10 members: Two black mothers, one Asian-American, three Latinx, one Pacific Islander and three white. 

Brenzel, who is the executive director of a music program for children, is openly gay. He lives in San Francisco with his husband and their young daughter. 

If approved, Brenzel would have been the only father on the council. 

After the lengthy debate, the school board eventually decided against voting on his appointment at all and asked the council to find alternate candidates for them to consider. 

Brenzel's appointment to the council was just one of the agenda items for the meeting that ended up going for seven hours. 

Another item on the agenda was about reopening San Francisco schools amid the COVID-19 pandemic. 

It is the same school board that last month voted 6-1 to strike the names of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln from the district's institutions.

As a result, 44 schools had to change their names after board members deemed the historical figures to have ties to racism or have 'dishonorable legacies' despite basing the decision on incorrect Wikipedia articles. 

The issue of diversity was a main argument in deciding whether to appoint Brenzel to the council. 

One person, only identified as Tara, said during the meeting: 'They are not a diverse group of parents as far as I have seen, I have noticed and have observed.' 

Others who opposed Brenzel's appointment argued that the council 'does not even mirror Joe Biden's cabinet' and that other 'voices need to be heard first before white queer voices'. 

Commissioner Matt Alexander - who described himself as the lone white board member - had said that it seemed 'like the white members are over-represented on the P.A.C.' and that there was an under-representation of 'Arab, Vietnamese, Native American folks'.

'I'm probably going to get complaints now I'm telling white parents not to be involved or something. I want to be clear, that's not what I'm saying,' he said, before later adding that 'white parents also in the city tend to have a lot of privilege and power and access the board of ed in various ways.' 

Several others, however, defended Brenzel's candidacy, pointing out that he would bring diversity because he is gay and a father.

'I see no reason why Seth should not be confirmed. I think this is just honestly just a political show so you can say that you stopped a white person from getting on,' one speaker said. 

Another member of the public said: 'I'm very upset we are focusing solely on race. Seth would be the only male on the pact. He would be the only LGBTQ member. He has a bi-racial child.

'I mean, this notion of oh, he's just a white person therefore we can't have him, it's absolute nonsense. There's diversity beyond the color of our skin and I think it is important to consider diversity beyond just race and the intersectionalty of parents.

'We are all diverse in our own way and Seth brings a lot of diversity to a pact that has no men and no LGBTQ parents.' 

It comes as the school board president Gabriela López, 30, defended last month's decision to rename the 44 schools honoring historical leaders who have since been branded by activists as racist.  

San Francisco Unified School District had been criticized for voting by 6-1 last month to change the name of one-third of the city's schools.

Parents and residents became concerned when it emerged that historians had not been consulted by the renaming committee.

Instead, committee members allegedly used references from Wikipedia and other non-scholarly sources to determine which personalities were racist and problematic. 

Several of those citations have now been proven to be factually incorrect, including a false claim that American poet James Russell Lowell did not want black people to vote and that Paul Revere's military activities were tied to 'the conquest of the Penobscot Indians'. 

Gabriela López, the head of the San Francisco Board of Education, continues to defend the decision claiming in a tense interview with the New Yorker that she doesn't want to 'discredit the work that this group has done' despite their use of inaccurate information.

She claimed that she did not believe the names had been selected in a haphazard way, even after being read a list of the misinformation that was used in some of the decisions. 

'No, because I've already shared with you that the people who have contributed to this process are also part of a community that is taking it as seriously as we would want them to,' Lopez argued about the errors made in the research process. 

'And they're contributing through diverse perspectives and experiences that are often not included, and that we need to acknowledge. 

'What I keep hearing is you're trying to undermine the work that has been done through this process. And I'm moving away from the idea that it was haphazard,' she said in the strained Q&A. 

Lopez also pushed back on the complaints that historians were not consulted as part of the process. 

Among the names included on the list that had provoked pushback from residents and historians was President Abraham Lincoln.  

Lopez said that she did not believe Lincoln was a person she would 'admire or see as a hero'.

'I think that the killing of indigenous peoples and that record is something that is not acknowledged,' she said.

'It's something that people are now learning about, and due to this process. And so, we just have to do the work of that extra learning when we're having these discussions.'

Lopez also claimed that the renaming was only facing criticism because 'people will always have a problem with the discussion of racism', not because of the inaccurate information.

'That is what I know. That is why I'm getting death threats. That is why people aren't open to other possibilities. Because when we have this discussion, that's the outcomes no matter how good it's set up, no matter how open we are,' she said. 

'No matter what, people are going to have an issue with that. That is what I know, given my experience. Of course, I'm hearing what you're saying, but I don't think it's going to change the outcome. People are still going to be up in arms when we're doing this.'

Among the other criticism received by the city's board of education was that it had voted on the renaming when there appeared to be no plan in place to bring students back to in-person learning.

'What I cannot understand is why the school board is advancing a plan of all these schools renamed by April when there isn't a plan to have our kids back in the classroom by then,' San Francisco Mayor London Breed had said.

The city of San Francisco has also since sued the board of education and school district claiming they have violated a state law that required districts to adopt a clear plan during the pandemic as it relates to in-person education.

Lopez claimed that it is 'completely false' to say they don't have a plan and accused to the mayor of jumping at 'any opportunity to cause further division'.