#you have such directly relevant / accurate trains of thought

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hey have i brought attention to your tags yet??? not just these but Every Piece of Commentary you've left on my lights out posts??? cause damn. Dude. my guy. you're the only mf who truly understands the assignment

if you do kill wally its gonna ruin me.

the poor man has lived and survived and suffered for so long. desperate to save his friends.

and it just gets cut from under him.

especially if he doesnt die alone.

... *nervously kicks plot document under the rug*

[dindjarindiaries]

Regalis - Chapter 1: The Rose

summary: The princess wrestles with her duty as queen-to-be as she seeks distraction from the honorable knight who’s unaware of how he’s enraptured her heart.

warnings: mentions of parental death, angst, pining

rating: T

word count: 5.053k

masterlist ⟹ next

chapter 1: the rose

A long time ago, in a kingdom far, far away…

Thunk. The arrow hits the center of the target—again.

You hold your chin in the palm of your hand as you release a soft sigh. The window seat on which you’re perched isn’t usually this comfortable to you, but it provides a perfect view of the place where some of Arilia’s finest knights train.

Knights like Sir Djarin, who’s reaching over his shoulder for another arrow. He’s quick as a flash yet accurate as can be when he strings the arrow and releases it. With another thunk, he hits the center of the target.

You’re not sure how long it’s been since you first sat here. The action’s kept you glued to the window seat ever since you heard the first thunk. Your handmaiden had mentioned this morning some affair you needed to attend to today, but Omera’s words have long since left your mind. Watching Sir Djarin train—helmeted as always—seems important enough on its own. You need to be sure you’re in reliable hands under his guard, after all.

A few knocks at your bedroom doors tear you from both the view and your daydreams. You turn around as you hear the voice of another one of your guards, one who falls only one rank lower than the valiant knight training below. “Your Royal Highness, if I may enter?”

You smile at the voice. “Please, come in.”

The doors open in a gentle motion as the tall and broad knight steps through. He bows his helmeted head before he speaks again. “Lord Protector requests your presence.”

You try not to roll your eyes. Gideon. That’s the affair you had forgotten about. “Indeed, Sir Vizsla.” You nod as you say the words, standing from the window seat with one last look through the glass pane. Sir Djarin shoots one more arrow right to the center of the target, making you smile again before you fall in step with Sir Vizsla.

The two of you walk in silence from the bedroom, but as you navigate your way through the corridors of the palace, Sir Vizsla begins to speak. “Was the view nice today, Your Royal Highness?”

You try to bite back your smile as you picture the rapid motion of Sir Djarin’s accurate archery. “Extraordinary, Sir Vizsla.”

The guard is silent for a few more moments before he speaks with a heavy amount of amusement in his tone. “It’s well known that Sir Djarin is the Guard’s finest when it comes to archery.”

Your face gets warm as you lift your chin to give the illusion that you’re unaware of what he’s implying. “Is that so?”

“Indeed.” Sir Vizsla looks over at you. “We practice shooting just below your window, I believe.”

“Yes. I’ve seen you all train sometimes.”

“Sir Djarin is training there today.”

Your head snaps over at Sir Vizsla as you try to hide your smile—and fail. “Is there a relevance to this information, Sir Vizsla?”

The knight chuckles and looks straight ahead again. “No, Your Royal Highness.”

You also look ahead as you keep fighting your smile. “That’s what I thought.”

Your distant admiration of Sir Djarin has long since been noticed by those you keep close in the palace. Your two closest guards who work directly under Sir Djarin—Sir Vizsla and Sir Fett—have never been shy in bringing his name into whatever conversations they can. Omera has also been observant of the way you speak of and respond to your valiant head guard. Still, not one of them cautions you. If anything, it’s been encouraged.

If only Gideon would do the same.

Sir Vizsla leads the way into the throne room where Gideon always seems to want to sit, regardless of whether or not he’s conducting business. You keep your jaw set as you approach him. You’re well aware of his growing smirk as he looks down upon you.

“Lord Protector,” you greet, bowing before you force your eyes to look upon him. “You asked to see me?”

“Ah, yes, Princess Astra.” Gideon’s voice has never been pleasant to you, not even when he led the Guard that protected your parents—or, were supposed to protect them. “I wanted to hear how your evening with the Duke of Nevarro went.”

You can’t keep your nose from scrunching up just at the title of your latest suitor. Gideon knows you must be wed in order to inherit the Arilian throne—a rule your parents were only days from changing when they passed—and lately, he has thrown the most insufferable of suitors your way. Your heart is already swayed in one direction as it is. “It… went.”

Gideon raises an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

You lift up your chin as you cross your arms. “I will not court him.”

Gideon releases a heavy sigh as he leans forward on the throne. “Princess, has it not been long enough since you were due to take the throne? You should hardly be picky about these kinds of things.”

Your face heats up with anger as you frown at Gideon. “About who I decide to spend the rest of my life with?” You scoff and continue before Gideon can answer. “Marriage wouldn’t prohibit me from taking the throne if the rule was changed, Lord Protector.”

Gideon sits back and paints on an expression of remorse. “Then it’s a true tragedy your parents were unable to go through with the change.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath as your arms fall back to your sides. It takes every ounce of self-control within you not to ball your hands up into fists. “It is.”

With a deep breath of his own, Gideon continues. “Well, the Prince of Maldo Kreis has written requesting to see you as well.” You swallow down an instant refusal as you instead let Gideon continue. “How long should I wait to bring him in?”

“A fortnight.” Under your breath, you add: “At least.”

“Splendid.” Gideon pauses and looks at you with a concealed hostility that makes a shiver run down your spine. Sir Djarin’s absence has never felt heavier than it does in a moment like this where you seek the comfort of his protective presence. “Let’s hope this one goes better than the rest, Princess.”

You nod. “Yes, we can hope.”

With a slow nod from Gideon, you’re freed from his presence. Sir Vizsla leads the way out of the throne room as if he knows you’re feeling suffocated. The constant flow of suitors has made you feel a way your parents, your guard, your handmaidens, and your people have never made you feel: like a mere prize to be won. The thought alone angers you enough to crave practicing the same thing you watched Sir Djarin do for longer than you bothered to keep track of.

That is, until you see the aforementioned knight standing outside the doors of the throne room. He bows his head with respect as he speaks with a voice that could have you on the palace’s floor within seconds. “Your Royal Highness.”

You nod at him with a fond raise of your brow. “Sir Djarin, what a pleasant surprise.” Keeping your smile hidden is even harder than before as Sir Vizsla stays on your left side and Sir Djarin comes along your right side. He walks closer to you than Sir Vizsla does as they lead you away from the treacherous throne room.

“I apologize for my absence,” Sir Djarin insists, his roughened voice somehow still as smooth as the silk on your dress. “I had training this morning.”

“The princess is well aware of your training, Sir Djarin,” Sir Vizsla chimes in. “I believe she saw some of it for herself.”

“Or perhaps it was because you informed me of his training, Sir Vizsla,” you remark, looking at the broad guard with a gaze of warning.

“Regardless of how she was made aware,” Sir Djarin says, his voice laced with amusement as he goes on, “I hope what you saw was satisfactory, Your Royal Highness.”

You smile and nod at him. “Very much so.” You look straight ahead as you add on. “I feel as if I’m in good hands under your protection and that of your Guard, Sir Djarin.”

“That… pleases me more than you know, Princess.” You can hear the smile in Sir Djarin’s voice. His use of your simpler title only makes your own smile grow even wider.

Once you’ve reached the main wing of the palace, Sir Vizsla stops to face you and Sir Djarin. “I’m due for my own training now,” he says, looking between the two of you. “Will you two be all right on your own?”

“Sir Djarin is my head guard, Sir Vizsla,” you remind him with a chuckle. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“I figured.” Sir Vizsla bows his head before he walks off, leaving you with Sir Djarin as you face the knight with a gaze you just know is full of admiration.

“Well, Sir Djarin,” you begin, clasping your hands in front of you as you try to meet his gaze through the visor of his helmet. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would love to take a walk through the gardens. The day has already proved to be a stressful one.”

Sir Djarin nods at you. “Whatever you please, Princess.” He extends an arm towards you, inviting you to wrap yours around it before he leads you towards the back doors. The walk is made in silence, one you struggle to maintain. You prefer to speak with Sir Djarin outside of the palace while the people within are awake and wandering, not wanting your conversations to be overheard. Privacy is something you both seem to value.

As soon as the fresh air of Arilia sweeps through your lungs and a few hearty steps take you and Sir Djarin within the maze of blooming flowers and hedges, you let the knot in your throat loosen and begin to speak. “Your absence while I spoke with Lord Protector was felt heavily, Sir Djarin.”

You can feel the knight tense alongside you as he composes a response. “Did… something happen?”

You shrug as you ease yourself even closer to his side. “He asked about the Duke of Nevarro.”

Sir Djarin only slightly relaxes upon hearing that. “Did he ask you to court him?” You can tell he struggles to even speak the words.

You offer a reassuring smile as you glance over at the knight. “No.” Your gaze looks upon the bright flowers as you continue. “I refused to court him, anyway.”

With a light sigh, Sir Djarin nods. “You seemed… uncomfortable with the Duke. I’m glad you made that decision.” He glances over at you. “You must do what’s best for you.”

Your heart grows heavy for a moment as you return Sir Djarin’s look. “What’s best for me may not be attainable.” Your gaze falls to your feet as you walk ahead. “But good things are worth fighting for.”

“Indeed.” Your knight sets a protective hand over the hilt of his sword. “I—and the other guards—will always fight for you, Princess.”

You smile as you look at him again. “I know.” You resist the urge to rest your head against him as you instead take a deep breath. “I’m forever indebted to you.”

Sir Djarin shakes his head. “The honor is all mine.” He clears his throat and attempts to correct himself. “Ours.”

“It is yours, Sir Djarin.” You tease him as you continue to look at him. “You’re my head guard, after all.”

The knight nods with respect. “It’s not a title I take lightly, Princess.”

“Again, I know.” You tighten your grip on his arm for a moment. “You’ve always been very honorable.”

The two of you share a brief silence as you continue to walk through the garden. Thoughts race through your mind and you’re certain the same thing is happening to Sir Djarin. He still becomes the first one to break your silence when he speaks in a cautious tone. “Was your meeting with Lord Protector the event that made today ‘stressful?’” You know he wants to ask for more, but refuses to in the face of propriety.

You release a soft breath. “It was an event that led to many other stressful thoughts.” You look over at Sir Djarin with concern. “In order to rule, I must marry. I’ve let Gideo—or, Lord Protector—rule long enough in my place.” Your gaze finds the horizon, where you can see the villages of the kingdom thriving with life. It brings you a wistful smile. “The people of Arilia need me.”

“They’re also patient, and they care for you very much.” Your knight provides the most comforting reassurance you could ask for. “I have no doubt you will capture the heart of a man suited to rule alongside you.”

I’ve already found one. You keep the words stuck to your chest as you instead force out a different response to Sir Djarin’s words. “I’m afraid I don’t share your optimism.” Sir Djarin gives you a look that seeks an explanation, though he’s too polite to ask for one. You shrug as you go on. “The suitors I’ve had are not fit for me nor for Arilia’s throne. I need a man who’s more…” you pause, looking at a particularly bright flower as you finish, “honorable.”

You can hear the breath Sir Djarin catches in his throat as he remains silent for a long moment. You’re biting back a smile as you await his response. “That’s a wise decision, Princess.”

You share a quick glance with your knight. “We’re in agreement on that, Sir Djarin.”

Peaceful silence sits between the two of you for a while, allowing you to fade back into your daydreams from earlier. It’s even easier to do so with Sir Djarin right at your side. You’ve found yourself slipping into them more and more ever since the knight was given the honor of being your head guard—though you had noticed him long before that.

When a bench by one of the fountains comes into sight, you break your silence. “I would like to sit for a moment.” You can tell Sir Djarin’s visor is searching you for some sign of fatigue, injury, or stress. The mere idea of his care for you makes your chest warm.

“Of course, Princess.” Sir Djarin’s response comes only after he’s made his observations. “Are you feeling all right?”

You nod with a smile. “Yes. I just happen to enjoy this spot.”

It’s the deepest point in the maze-like gardens and the fountain provides a white noise that drowns out any conversation to nearby visitors. For you, it’s the perfect place to speak with Sir Djarin without the fear of being heard.

Sir Djarin keeps his hold on your arm to ease you down onto the bench, only letting go once you thank him. He makes no move to sit alongside you. “You may sit, Sir Djarin, if you please.”

The valiant knight hesitates before he speaks. “I… shouldn’t sit whilst on duty, Princess.”

“I understand.” You smooth out the wrinkles in your dress to distract yourself as you continue. “Danger could always be lurking.”

“Indeed.” Sir Djarin’s agreement is swift, his tone as protective as ever.

Your knight continues to stand along your right side, so you have to lean forward in order to further observe his right pauldron. The silver metal covering his shoulder contains the signet of a creature you’ve only heard stories about. You’ve always been curious as to why he has it and you figure now is the best time to ask. “Sir Djarin, if I may ask a question?”

“Ask away, Princess.”

You beam at his words and collect yourself before going ahead. “What is the signet on your armor for?”

“The mudhorn?” You nod to confirm Sir Djarin’s request for clarification. His armored chest rises and falls in a steady breath. “It’s… how I earned my place as a knight in the Royal Guard.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How did…” You trail off, answering your own question within your mind as your eyes double in size. “You fought a mudhorn?”

“It was plaguing the outskirts of an Arilian village,” Sir Djarin explains. “I had been training to become a knight for many years by then and no one else was willing to fight it. So, I tried my hand at it.” Sir Djarin pauses as he looks down at you. “I took heavy damage to my armor, but I finished the job. My reward was a new set of armor and earning the official title of Sir Djarin.”

You look up at Sir Djarin with amazement. You had remembered when he became a knight, but you never knew how it happened. It’s hard for you to believe the story isn’t as widespread throughout the kingdom. “Who else knows of this?”

Sir Djarin shrugs and looks back out at the gardens. “There were no witnesses in the village. I asked your father and mother to keep it a secret. Other than them and some of the other knights…” Sir Djarin pauses, tilting his helmet as if he’s running through a mental checklist, “no one else knows.”

“Well, now I do, too.” You smile at that. “Why did you keep it a secret?”

The breath Sir Djarin releases is calculated. “I… didn’t find it necessary to share.”

Your smile widens. Honorable. “I see.” You think of another question to ask Sir Djarin, but you hesitate. You’re afraid it’s too personal. Something you had heard about Sir Djarin was that he had been taken in by one of the Royal Guard many years ago, when both of you were still children. It was after one of Arilia’s villages had been attacked and ransacked. Though you’re eager to know more about Sir Djarin and ask what happened, you refuse to cross such a personal boundary.

“Is there something else on your mind, Princess?” Sir Djarin’s voice breaks through your worried thoughts.

You search for something else to say. “I…” You look up at Sir Djarin, getting an idea as soon as you see the sun reflecting off his silver helmet. “I was wondering if there’s a reason why you always keep your helmet on.” You rush to explain yourself. “Not that it’s a bad thing, I just… usually, the other knights take theirs off from time to time. I was curious to know if there was a reason.”

You notice Sir Djarin tense upon hearing your question. You curse to yourself and hope your question hasn’t upset him. “It’s like I said before.” The knight’s voice is quieter than usual. “I don’t find it necessary to share what’s underneath.”

You furrow your brow at that. You’ve always sensed that Sir Djarin likes to keep to himself, but you never realized it was to such an extreme. Your mind can’t help wondering what he looks like underneath the silver metal, but out of your fond respect and admiration for him, you don’t challenge him. “I understand.” You add something else in a low murmur. “Maybe one day, you will.”

Thinking Sir Djarin hadn’t heard you, you’re surprised when he responds after a long moment. “Maybe.”

His answer gives you hope that you haven’t upset him, but you still feel as if you’ve crossed a forbidden line. You start to stand and Sir Djarin turns to take your arm again. You thank him before speaking. “I would like to return to the palace.”

Sir Djarin bows his head. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

The formal title stings. You feel even worse than before as you listen to Sir Djarin distance himself from you in such a way. The only thing giving you hope now is the way he stills holds your arm—though your mind reminds you it may only be his propriety that keeps him from retracting it to his side.

Silence persists as you lose yourself in the mess of your mind. Sir Djarin’s voice somehow manages to break through the chaos within. “Has something upset you, Princess?”

Another glimmer of hope flickers across your chest when he uses your informal title. “It’s nothing you’ve done, Sir Djarin.”

The knight remains silent for a thoughtful moment. Only the sound of the ground crunching underneath your feet is what can be heard as you and Sir Djarin walk in perfect sync. “If it’s any reassurance, Princess, your question didn’t upset me.”

You look over at him with a worried crease to your brow. “Are you certain?”

Sir Djarin returns your look. “I’m certain.” You can hear the smile in his voice as he continues. “You were curious and I didn’t mind providing an answer. Besides…” the knight pauses and looks back to the way ahead, “one day, what’s underneath might be shared.”

You grin upon hearing that. Sir Djarin’s insinuation is enough to give you a strong sensation of butterflies, as lively as the thriving garden around you. “Well, I apologize anyway, Sir Djarin. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You weren’t ‘prying,’ Princess.” Sir Djarin eases you just a few inches closer to his side. “I will gladly provide for you in any way you should ask.”

You bite your lip as you look away from your knight, feeling your face grow hot—and not because of the Arilian sun. You’re about to think of a reply when Sir Djarin stops walking and encourages you to do the same. You look over at him with concern, watching as he bends down to pick something up off the ground. When he stands, you notice he’s holding a bright red rose.

“Danger is lurking,” Sir Djarin insists with an amused tone. “You could’ve fallen over this rose.”

You shake your head at the knight with a fond smile. “I’m inclined to believe that I would be the one who would hurt the rose, not the other way around.”

Sir Djarin nods. “Indeed.” He offers the rose to you. “Then perhaps you should hold on to it for safekeeping.”

You accept the thornless rose in your free hand with a smile that grows. “For safekeeping.”

With that, Sir Djarin continues to lead you ahead, bringing you back to the palace that’s beginning to wind down for the day. You spent most of your morning admiring Sir Djarin from afar and the afternoon doing the same from up close, causing the day to pass by quickly. You try not to think about the fact that means another suitor will soon be occupying your time as you focus on the man whose arm you’re still holding.

The rose spins in your hand as you fumble with it all the way back to your bedroom. Every time you see it, you want to smile. The flower alone provides a hope like no other that your daydreams could one day come true, if you ever become bold enough to pursue them. For now, you enjoy the elated feeling you have just at the thought of it, resolving to think about the rest another time.

When your bedroom doors come into view, Sir Djarin stops and reaches for one of the knobs. He releases your arm, though the action seems reluctant as he pulls open the door. “I’ll be out here if you need anything, Princess,” Sir Djarin informs you, his tone polite yet protective as he invites you into your bedroom.

“Thank you, Sir Djarin,” you respond, smiling at him before you walk through the door. As soon as it closes, you rest your back against both of them, closing your eyes and holding the rose close to your chest. You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

“It seems you’ve had an eventful day, Your Royal Highness,” a soft, sweet voice says with amusement, causing you to gasp with surprise as you open your eyes and see Omera standing by your dressing table. There’s a light in her eyes that you know all too well, though you choose to beat around the bush first.

“Omera, you frightened me!” you exclaim, taking another deep breath as you push your body off the doors. “Sir Djarin will be upset with himself when he realizes he forgot to check the room for others.”

“Oh, no worries,” Omera begins with a mischievous grin. “Sir Djarin saw me before he invited you in. You were just… distracted, m’lady.” You shake your head, refusing to give in to Omera’s teasing as you make your way over to her. She’s as relentless as ever when she gestures to the flower in your hand. “Did you pick that from the garden?”

“No,” you answer as you set it down upon the dressing table with delicacy. “It was a gift.”

Omera’s dark eyes flash even brighter. “Ah.” She pretends to be distracted by her actions as she helps you change into your evening dress. Though you know you could complete such a task on your own, you value Omera’s friendship too much to send her away from you. Allowing her to help means allowing her to stay at the palace. “From Sir Djarin, I presume?”

You don’t meet her eyes as you fight back a smile. “For safekeeping only.”

Omera pauses for a moment, chuckling before she continues. “‘Safekeeping.’ What a unique excuse.” She meets your eyes as she raises her brow in a way your mother always used to. “And you still have doubts that your feelings are requited?”

You’re quick to shush her as you turn to look over your shoulder. “Could you not say such a thing so loudly, Omera?” you whisper. “You know how well he listens.”

“He listens, but doesn’t eavesdrop.” Omera continues her work while she speaks in a quieter tone. “Because he’s—.”

“Honorable, yes.” You sigh and cover your face with your hands while Omera deals with the skirt of your dress. “Oh, Omera…”

“Did Lord Protector ask about the Duke of Nevarro?” Omera attempts to change the subject in the face of your grievance about the circumstances of your affections.

“He did.” Your hands fall back to your sides. “I told him I would not court him.”

Omera smiles at that. “Good for you, m’lady.”

You shake your head. “Only for a small while. He’s sending another suitor here in a fortnight, some prince from another kingdom.” You release a frustrated breath as you look beyond Omera, watching as the Arilian sun begins to set in the evening sky and paints the kingdom in its innocent blush. “I don’t want a prince, Omera. I don’t even want a king.”

“I know.” Omera’s voice is full of sympathy as she meets your gaze with comfort. “You want a knight.”

Your gaze falls as you look from the bedroom floor to the rose laying on your dressing table. “I just want a man who’s honorable.”

Omera hums with interest. “That sounds very much like someone you described earlier.”

You clear your throat as Omera finishes her work on your dress. As soon as she’s standing tall on her own, you look at the doors behind you. “Is dinner ready? I’m famished.”

Omera laughs and nods. “They’re ready whenever you are.”

You bow your head to your reliable handmaiden. “Thank you, Omera.” She repeats the gesture, still smiling as she watches you head towards the doors. You open them just to see Sir Djarin standing outside as attentive as ever, his helmet turning to look at you in a swift motion.

“Ready for dinner, Princess?” Sir Djarin asks, his voice soft as he offers his arm to you.

You try to ignore the butterflies his mere presence brings you as you take his arm and nod. “Yes, Sir Djarin.”

Your knight nods before leading you down the hall. The silence between the two of you is peaceful and comfortable as you make your way to the dining room. There are too many things on your mind for you to find words to speak and you wonder if Sir Djarin is going through the same thing.

Before either one of you can break the silence, someone else does. Sir Fett appears from around a corner and steps in front of you, causing the two of you to halt in place as he bows his head to you. “Your Royal Highness,” Sir Fett greets in his usual gravelly voice. You bow your head in return, watching with a furrowed brow as he turns to face your knight. “Sir Djarin, Lord Protector has asked to see you.” The tilt of Sir Djarin’s helmet tells you he wasn’t expecting such a request to be made. “I’ll remain with the princess until you return.”

“Thank you, Sir Fett,” your knight responds. He reluctantly drops your arm and steps away from you, turning to face you and bowing his head. “Your Royal Highness.”

You nod at him, well aware of the disappointment on your expression as you watch your knight walk away. Sir Fett takes his place at your right side, removing his helmet for a moment as he looks at you with dark eyes full of sympathy. “You seem distressed, madam.”

You offer Sir Fett a smile of gratitude, but you still shake your head. “I’m just hungry, Sir Fett.”

The knight nods as he slides his helmet back on, walking alongside you to continue leading you to the dining room. After a brief and tense silence, Sir Fett speaks. “It’s nothing bad, Your Royal Highness.” You look over at the knight to see his visor staring at you with reassurance. “Sir Djarin is as honorable as they come.”

You sigh as you hear the word spoken for what must be the hundredth time today. “So I’ve seen.” Still, the idea of your knight makes you smile—though the look you take over your shoulder in the direction of the throne room reminds you of the pit in your stomach.

You’re not sure what Gideon’s up to, but whatever it is, he better leave Sir Djarin out of it.

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[herlocksherlock]

Herlock Sholmes Has ADHD

I believe Herlock Sholmes from “The Great Ace Attorney” has undiagnosed Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, or ADHD. I know this is a pretty popular fanon theory/headcanon, but I’ve never seen anyone lay out evidence for it. Spoilers below the read more.

Forgetfulness and Losing Things

Herlock Sholmes has some established memory issues directly connected to his interest in said information. This is pretty typical for someone with ADHD, though sometimes Herlock takes it to a bit of an extreme.

[Image Description: Screenshot from The Great Ace Attorney showing Iris Wilson telling Susato Mikotoba “He forgets everything. As soon as he’s solved a case, it all but vanishes from his mind.” End Image Description.]

When I say it’s connected to his “interest” in the information, I'm referring to personal relevancy more than subjective preference. In other words, even if a case was very interesting to him on a subjective level, once he’s done, it’s no longer especially relevant to him. The longer something goes without being directly relevant to him on a day-to-day basis, the more likely he is to forget it. He pushes case details from his memory about as fast as many of us push class details out of mind following the final exam, but for Herlock it goes deeper than that. 

He’s forgotten things about people close to him too when hasn’t seen them for a while, including how many years it had been since he last saw Yuujin Mikotoba. He even seemed to forget who Ryunosuke and Susato were after not seeing them for a little over a month (though to be fair, he’d only known them a few days before that month). 

Another very common symptom of ADHD in adults is continuously losing or misplacing things and generally having poor organizational skills. 

[Image Description: Screenshot from The Great Ace Attorney showing  Herlock Sholmes saying “And it’s troubling to me that you expect me to know where it is! Somewhere thereabouts on the floor, one presumes.” End Image Description.]

This is defintely a problem with Herlock, to the point that I believe he even gave up on finding a missing book at one point and just opted to buy a new one. The fact that he thought it would be easier to invest in a new copy of the book than to try and locate it is pretty significant when you take into account the fact that he does not really have any disposable income to speak of. In fact, he sometimes seems to have trouble just paying rent.

Rapid-Fire Thinking

Herlock’s mind goes too fast for him sometimes, a trait that leads to some deductions that are very close (and yet so very far) from being accurate. I have heard the argument that these deductions were merely a farce to test Ryunosuke, and while I think there might be some truth to that, I don’t think that explains it in full. For example, why would Herlock go out of his way to test Ryunosuke when there was a time bomb in the middle of the room? Even if ADHD has a risk-taking element to it, I don’t think Herlock would go that far.

I think at least some of the faulty deductions Herlock makes in-game were genuine, and resulted from him connecting the dots a little too fast. Having your thoughts race by you at such a speed that you yourself have trouble keeping up with them is a common experience for many people with ADHD. So Herlock, brilliant though he is, was probably distracted by these avid trains of thought mid-deduction. For example, imagine he follows a person’s gaze to the wrong item, one that doesn’t really make sense in context. Instead of stopping, reflecting, and moving backwards to re-evaluate his assumption, he gets distracted by the entire story his mind is already half-way done putting together about what he initially thought the person was looking at.

This isn’t just speculation either; Herlock himself openly admits that he often feels overwhelmed by all the stimuli he’s getting at any given moment.

[Image Description: Screenshot from The Great Ace Attorney showing  Herlock Sholmes saying “I am frequently assailed by information that I neither care for, nor wish to retain.” End Image Description.]

Hyperfocus

Hyperfocusing is extremely common for those with ADHD, especially when it comes to one’s hyperfixations. You can think of a hyperfixation sort of like a “special interest”; it’s something a person with ADHD thinks about more than an average amount (sometimes to the exclusion of more pressing matters) and often gets a large amount of satisfaction from talking about. 

When he is on a case, Herlock hyperfocuses big time, so you could argume those might serve as hyperfixations for him. 

[Image Description: Screenshot from The Great Ace Attorney showing Iris Wilson saying “I do apologise. When he gets like this, he’s completely oblivious to everything.” End Image Description.]

However, one can hyperfocus on more than just hyperfixations when you have ADHD. Sometimes it’s a topic you saw on wikipedia that you ended up accidentally spending three hours following links for, sometimes it’s reading an article, sometimes it’s writing a post about why Herlock Sholmes has ADHD. Regardless of the source, hyperfocus is something that is not always voluntary; you often can’t choose what you hyperfocus on when you have ADHD, though sometimes you can direct it toward a desired task or topic with practice.

Mood Swings

Mood swings and general irritability are lesser known symptoms of ADHD, but they are defintely a part of it. These can be mood drops connected to understimulation or simply extreme responses to normal stimuli as a result of emotional dysregulation.

[Image Description: Screenshot from The Great Ace Attorney showing a very glum-looking Herlock Sholmes saying “A good morning to die perhaps...” End Image Description.]

Impulse Control

Herlock has a somewhat notable lack of impulse control, and not just because he followed through on a whim to taste soap for the sake of curiosity.  He laughs very loud at sometimes very inappropriate times (which also relates to volume control, which is another common form of impulse control with ADHD). 

[Image Description: Screenshot from The Great Ace Attorney showing Herlock Sholmes laughing very hard. End Image Description.]

The impulse control aspect of ADHD also helps explain his less-than-prefect social skills. Difficulty keeping quiet and speaking out of turn are two common symptoms of ADHD in adults. People with ADHD can also have a harder time picking up on social cues, which further hurts social skills. 

Other Evidence 

Finally, I wanted to discuss a few things that serve as weak evidence on their own, but are (in my opinion) pretty interesting when put alongside everything I’ve presented so far. 

[Image Description: Screenshot from The Great Ace Attorney showing Herlock Sholmes talking to Susato Mikotoba, saying  “...’Tomorrow for once I shall not oversleep! I rise early and be present in court to support my companions!” End Image Description.]

Herlock has issues getting out of bed, to the point that he missed the start of a court case multiple times. And the one time he did make it there promptly, it was only with considerably help from Iris. Trouble getting up and getting somewhere is very common for adults with ADHD, though the causes may very. It could be due to poor sleep quality making you tired, poor executive function making it difficult to actually get ready in a timely manner, or some combination thereof. Either way, I suspect this ongoing struggle for Herlock has a lot to do with his ADHD.

This next one is really a stretch, and is honestly pretty headcanon-based, but you remember this bit right here?

[Image Description: Screenshot from The Great Ace Attorney showing Herlock Sholmes with his back turned to the camera. He’s saying “...Whilst, as you shrewdly observed, gnawing on the only friend I have left: this seven per cent solution of caramel.” On the side is an image of a candy bar with a wrapping reading “Sholmes’ Caramel.” End Image Description.]

Now, obviously this was a reference to the seven percent solution of cocaine the original Sherlock Holmes injected himself with to keep his brain stimulated between cases. However, since he talks about eating this caramel bar multiple times in the games, I’m going to take the reference as literally as possible: a candy bar that is only partially made up of actual caramel. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to assume there is chocolate in this bar too, based on the color and how the flavor would pair with caramel. If chocolate was the other main ingredient, and perhaps the predominant one, you know what that candy bar would contain a decent amount of? Caffeine. You know what many people with ADHD self-medicate with if formal drugs aren’t available to them? Caffeine. 

Alternatively, let’s say that wrapper isn’t just for show; maybe this caramel bar is mostly caramel, but it’s Sholmes’ own special blend that truly has some cocaine in it. While it’s defintely not an advisable means of self-medication, cocaine was pretty popular in Victorian era England since they didn’t know about all the negative side effects yet. And cocaine is a stimulant.

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Hi. How are you? Hope you're doing well.

Nowadays, MGS is seen to be more willing in receiving HT's affection/attention. And being more considerate of HT.

What's your opinion on this?

P. S: thanks in advance

Hello, dear anon!

Considering all the things going on in our world right now, I’m doing pretty good, thank you! I hope you’re well and keeping safe, too. I’m sorry to have kept your ask waiting. Every time I tried to get to this, something else came up. It’s been quite hectic in both 19 Days and Given fandom lately. Thank you for your patience!

For this answer, I’m not going to link my previous posts because I will probably touch upon a lot of different Tianshan topics. But feel free to browse my Answered Asks Masterpost for relevant posts.

“Nowadays, MGS is seen to be more willing in receiving HT's affection/attention. And being more considerate of HT.”

I’m glad you were pondering this because I have actually been meaning to talk about something that I think is related to this. A year ago (to the day!), I wrote my take on the Tianshan timeline. According to my interpretation, I divided the journey of MGS and HT’s relationship into three “segments” that went about something like this:

“You’ll answer to me from now on”

HT and MGS started out as MGS almost being HT’s “underling”. MGS was very weary and distrustful of HT. HT used physical violence and threats to submit MGS. HT was very much taking control, and MGS was hostile but also scared of HT’s kind of people.

“Don’t try to shoulder everything by yourself”

HT keeps “honing down” MGS’s personality and trying to make him “an outstanding person” by giving him small tasks and chores. But the tone is different; HT becomes more playful and teasing instead of threatening and intimidating.

First hints of HT gaining romantic feelings for MGS?

MGS gets mixed up in SL’s offer to get expelled and ends up being falsely accused of assaulting a girl. HT and the gang save him, and MGS begins to realize there are people willing to fight for him. He doesn't have to shoulder things on his own. 

The infamous first Tianshan kiss.

“I’m so bothered by you…“

HT’s feelings for MGS deepen and gain more layers. HT reveals more of his possessive, clingy, and needy side with those feelings.

A big increase in physical contact in Tianshan interactions. Mainly HT casually clinging to MGS or being touchy-feely otherwise. Touching and interactions gain a more suggestive tone.

In return, MGS becomes more conscious of HT. HT still makes him nervous but in a different way than in the beginning. MGS gets flustered, blushes, and overcompensates like a tsundere.

MGS starts showing more concern towards HT. He gets worried about him and even comforts HT a couple of times.

My timeline left off approximately when HT gave MGS the earrings (ch. 305) and MGS left him the sandwich at school (ch. 309). I didn't really touch the timeline until MGS told HT about how he and SL had met. Despite trying, I couldn't find the post anymore, but I think I reblogged one of my posts about that moment and said that this could mark the fourth “phase” of Tianshan. Either way, I think that was the kind of development in their relationship that I think would be a natural continuum of my “timeline”.

Which brings me to your question, dear anon. I don’t know how far back your “nowadays” reaches or what moments exactly you mean by MGS being more willing to accept HT’s affection, but I do think there has been a shift in their relationship ever since the “SL & MGS backstory”. So, I’m going to treat this as the next “segment” in my Tianshan timeline.

What I want to stress when I’m talking about these things is that it’s all very much relative and vague. It’s difficult to pinpoint where one trait in their relationship begins or ends. In the same way, many of the things I see as a part of this phase might have already been present in the previous ones. It’s just that that trait seems more essential and emphasized now.

“I thought you were dead...”

This phase, the way I see it, is about the increasing trust in Tianshan. Not only did MGS open up about his most painful memory to HT, but HT is also becoming more direct and honest about his vulnerability. His words aren’t veiled by teasing and double-meanings anymore, but he is more “raw” about it.

Another common demeanor to me in this phase is MGS giving into his feelings regarding HT more. He’s been concerned about HT before, but now he’s panicking and even attentive. He allows himself to listen to what HT has to say and rely on the support HT wants to offer. Don’t get me wrong, MGS is still very much of a tsundere. He still curses at HT and pushes his advances away, but as I’ve said before, I think that will always be a part of their dynamics. I doubt that side in MGS is ever going anywhere, but it’s also been balanced more by him being more open to HT.

The development of the increasing trust that was HT learning about MGS’s history with SL had its initial push in how SL approached MGS at the train station (ch. 317):

This incident had two big things. First of all, SL is getting bolder. He’s always been unpredictable but for the most part, he’s remained in the shadows despite the trouble he’s caused. He hasn’t been very keen on direct confrontation. MGS had been under his hold without SL needing to get defensive against anyone trying to take away his “property”.

However, HT has not only been pulling MGS further and further away from SL but he’s also been posing a serious opposition to SL. SL can no longer take advantage of MGS being an outcast and not having someone as strong as HT on his side. I think all that has been increasingly irritating SL. He’s getting frustrated which makes him dangerous. He seemed to be barely holding his cool at the train station confrontation and then ended up chasing MGS through the crowd.

Overall, it was a very stressful situation for MGS, and the first person he literally thought to run to was HT. I don’t want to make it sound too dramatic because I think anyone would have run to their friends in that situation. But still, MGS relied on HT in his panic and distress. He knew he would be safe with HT if he just reached him. He very much trusted HT in that situation, not to mention out of his own volition instead of trying to handle it by himself and refusing anyone’s help.

I think being cornered by SL like that shook MGS as well, and it didn’t take that much nudging by HT to make him talk about his past with SL (ch. 318):

I like how HT was gentle about this but didn't let MGS evade and refuse to talk about it all. If HT was going to protect him, he needed to know what was going on. In addition to that, HT wants MGS to rely on him by sharing the burden with him. “Don’t try to shoulder it by yourself” is repeated again, but this time they are actually facing each other (both physically and mentally). MGS physically slumps and for the first time, he lets all the guilt, anxiety, and self-blame seep through for someone to see. He shares his deepest and darkest secret for which he has been beating himself up for years. 

And this massive leap of trust from MGS’s part was met with what I think he was both desperate for but also scared of hearing (ch. 319):

HT saying “it wasn’t your fault” was such a seemingly obvious thing for us but a huge relief for MGS. In these situations, people are often desperate for a “second opinion” but also nervous about it because what if they find us “guilty”, too. Nevertheless, we look for that absolution in other people because it helps us ease our own guilty conscience. Living with guilt is probably one of the heaviest burdens to carry in life.

MGS telling HT the story of him and SL and being relieved by HT’s words and comfort was a huge step of trust in their development. Especially for MGS. I think the relationship deepened for him at that moment. It was something he had never revealed to anyone, and that tied him to HT in ways that he wasn't really tied to anyone else. (Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say he was tied to SL in a similar but opposite way which is interesting.)

Reaching for trust has also worked in the other direction in this phase. In addition to MGS trusting HT with his most painful secrets, HT on the other hand has been initiating that he trusts MGS with his vulnerable side too (ch. 323, 343):

HT has shown his vulnerable side before a few times, but he’s been more guarded about it. Instead of directly opening up like this, he somewhat always masked those feelings. I would say HT still very much likes to control those situations when he’s vulnerable by offering to talk about them, but he doesn’t get defensive about MGS knowing about his past or feel threaten by MGS knowing about his weaknesses and painful things.

I do think HT has trusted MGS as someone around whom it’s safe to show his vulnerable moments. But these days, it’s as if HT has decided to talk about his past and fears. It even looks like he wants to talk about them to someone. And instead of asking “don’t abandon me” like he’s ashamed of asking that from MGS, he is now more confident about not wanting to be alone. (This development is probably at least partially connected to the possibility that HT has known their time is limited for a while now.)

For now, MGS seems to be somewhat putting up with this side of HT. Unless it’s something that would require MGS to react and act somehow (for example, HT getting hurt), MGS seems to be more passive. We haven’t really seen him show much interest in HT’s past/vulnerable confessions or pass comments on them. I’m interested in seeing if he will gain a more active role in this regard.

Besides the increasing trust between MGS and HT, another thing I have noticed in this phase is that MGS has more “inner push” to care about HT and believe him. I find it a bit difficult to explain what I mean by that exactly, but I hope I manage to make some sense of this.

As I said earlier, I think the leap of trust regarding the SL backstory was at least partially induced by the pressure and shock of SL attacking MGS. In a similar way, I think MGS thinking HT had died cause him perhaps be more honest to himself regarding HT (ch. 329):

Nothing quite puts things in perspective as swiftly and violently as a death scare. When facing something as final as dying (either dying yourself or losing someone in your life), it clears up our priorities and makes us realize what matters to us.

As far as MGS is concerned, HT hadn’t been in this kind of sudden and unexpected danger like getting crushed by the landslide. They were all - MGS included - virtually powerless against such force of nature. All they could do was dig with their bare hands and hope it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I’m sure having HT behind his back one moment and not the next shook MGS deeply and made him realize what it would be like to lose HT.

I would like to think that that scare made MGS think about what HT meant to him, and that ultimately “coaxed” MGS to give HT more of a chance (ch. 340, 344, 346):

I’m trying to choose my words with care because I don’t want to make it sound like MGS’s resistance and reluctance when it comes to HT has melted away. I don’t think it has and I don’t think it ever will be gone completely. As I said, I think he will always have his tsundere nature that says “no” to everything almost automatically before he even considers it through properly.

What I’m trying to say instead is that MGS seems to consider HT’s feelings more and also be more open to believing in what HT is trying to tell him because having HT in his life shouldn’t be taken for granted. Maybe MGS thought that he could be more fair towards HT and not be so quick to reject everything. Also, maybe he could lower his guard and try to internalize what HT is so persistently trying to tell him. I do think MGS trusts HT to help him if he’s in trouble, but trusting HT to support his dreams is another thing. That is not an issue of just trust anymore, but it’s also about MGS having the courage to go for what he wants.

This hesitance and self-evaluation of sorts in MGS is also paired up with HT playing the kicked puppy card more shamelessly. It seems HT has discovered what tone to take if MGS rejects him. Is milking his injuries playing a bit dirty? Eh, I guess, but I don’t honestly see much harm in that. It’s cute. What comes to acting hurt if MGS refuses to listen to him, I think it would be a nice change if HT lets his hurt show. As much as I love MGS, I think it’s good that he also has those moments when he feels like he said something hurtful.

In my previous “timeline” post, I wondered if HT’s romantic feelings towards MGS started shaping somewhere around the second “ Don’t try to shoulder everything by yourself“ phase. Now, I’m wondering if the future developments of this current phase will lead to MGS discover those same romantic feelings. Especially if HT is leaving which would make MGS think about what HT means to him even more.

That’s pretty much what I have gathered in this “phase” so far. If we get back to your original question of why it seems MGS is more willing in receiving HT's affection/attention and being more considerate of HT, I think the answer lies in the deepening trust (both ways) and MGS realizing and allowing himself to recognize that HT does actually mean quite a lot to him. Through the moments I talked about, their relationship has deepened in new ways and they’re both trying to be more open about themselves and to each other. Of course, this is only a handful of chapters and the moments I mentioned are also accompanied by a lot of the “usual” Tianshan dynamics. So, I would say that this is the “early stages” of their new phase even though the development turns have been quite big.

Thank you for your question and your patience, dear anon!

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

Posting this for @pilotkinkade​ in response to their recent post made here, regarding concerns about VLD and how it includes white savior complex or potentially smears Allura’s character with that complex. I’m not reblogging directly because this is a long response lol. Thank you pilotkinkade for chatting earlier; I hope you find this post interesting at least and would be curious of your thoughts in return!

---

I do agree with your general sentiments, that VLD takes on a disquieting savior complex throughout a good portion of the show, even more so than in previous Voltron iterations. For me, it feels most apparent in the way that Voltron as an all-powerful machine in VLD is piloted by its second generation.

To compare: In the original OG alliance (Alfor, Zarkon, Trigel, Gyrgan, and Blaytz), multiple major races were represented, functioning as one to save their own collective galaxy from threats. So even among the OG paladins, there were checks and balances (maybe Zarkon had the strongest military skills personally, but Alfor had the alchemy, etc.), with mass racial diversity. This seemed like a pretty innovative and cool addition to the Voltron franchise. The s3 finale also clarifies that, unlike VLD’s second-generation, all of these paladins were leaders of their people. This meant they had political and legal authority/experience that an average warrior or citizen wouldn’t.

By removing that whole structure and retrofitting Voltron with (mostly) a group of unprepared teenagers from a single planet entirely uninvolved in the universal conflict, it created a lot of strange hierarchies...

We see much of the known universe raise up people who had zero prior experience with war, and little to no military or diplomatic training, as well as very little awareness of the traumas or people groups involved in this war. (Shiro is possibly the exception here.) But suddenly, all of these paladins also had unfettered, largely unquestioned access to ultimate power to carry out whatever vision they felt was right in the moment. Because simply “might is right,” we see even highly experienced commanders like Kolivan become castrated in authority compared to Team Voltron. Various alien groups express upset or side-eye Team Voltron’s well-meaning actions but obvious insensitivity to/ignorance of their problems or fears. Even at the paladin-level, a princess trained to fight and lead is subordinated to a boy with zero leadership training whatsoever (which is very different from previous iterations where Keith was actually very competent, more experienced, and wanted to be a leader).

And when Voltron plays the unchecked judge, jury, and executioner across the entire universe, the new paladins as a whole also do not have the political or legal authority the OG pallies did in the boundaries of their own galaxy. The second-gen paladins are not authorities of their people or representative of the people groups affected in the war they’re now leading. The OG pallies built the actual legend of Voltron in less than 28 decaphoebs, clearly going beyond their 5 nations to help others suffering from natural disasters or unknown needs, which might raise some eyebrows perhaps because we don’t know what all that entailed. But while we see that the Voltron machine eventually got celebrated, the OG pallies are never shown personally soaking in some kind of savior celebration…

(Photo ID: Alfor says, “Why I joined up this band of scoundrels, I’ll never know.” Trigel responds, “Because we’re the only band of scoundrels that would have you.” Third screenshot is of the paladins celebrating their alliance win by themselves.)

…compared to second-gen paladins (or some anyway) who pretty clearly soak in the love and prestige they’ve received based off the historical and legendary precedence of the OG alliance’s work:

(Photo IDs: Lance taking selfies with aliens excited to be around paladins. A second screenshot of Lance daydreaming about being a universal savior, stomping on Zarkon, planting a flag to mark ownership, and having Allura stare up at him in worship.)

In fact, a lot of the pro-Voltron war propaganda relies heavily more on recreating the legend already built for them, than on the actual competency or experience of the current paladins:

(Photo ID: Pidge complains about the war propaganda scripts, “This isn’t even factually accurate.” Coran replies, “Well, this is the Legend of Voltron, not the documentary of Voltron.”)

On that note, we even see the scripts reverse who is actually the most competent or capable of performing.

(Photo ID: Coran says, “Ladies and gentle-aliens, bear witness as the Paladins of Voltron attack Zarkon’s base to save the helpless Princess Allura!”)

Coran’s script, however well-meant, pretty massively infantilizes Allura as someone who needs to be saved by an external force, rather than mentioning her as someone who is an active and critical ally of the Voltron paladins in this war.

Unlike Coran’s script, Princess Allura isn’t helpless. In terms of the second-generation paladins, she’s has the most war-time experience, and is also the one that the paladins lean on constantly to create a meaningful connection with other people groups who are otherwise hesitant about Voltron.

(Photo ID: Allura speaks to the Balmeran people, “Balmerans, this is Princess Allura. You don’t know me, but I am here to help. I know what it’s like to watch your home planet die.”)

Allura is the successor to the Altean monarchy and a direct victim of the OG galaxy wars. So unlike other second-gen paladins, she has some semblance of legal/political authority that she was actively trained for, as well as personal skin in the game. She is ultimately the only paladin who has experienced a mass omnicide of her home and people, similar to other victims of the Galra regime. She also still accepts the authority of her father, whose AI tells her in season 1 to be prepared to sacrifice everything to undo his mistakes.

We see Allura from that point onward functioning under that directive from her father and king—to sacrifice everything she has to end Zarkon’s regime. One could potentially make the argument that, within this structure, Allura might suffer from a certain subset of “white knight syndrome,” in which one feels they’re worthless if they’re not sacrificing for others. If I have my facts right, it’s a different psychological state from white savior complex (in which I define white savior complex as “when someone outside the issue at hand barges in to make a change that may or may not benefit the recipient, simply to make themselves feel better or appear useful, without regard to the recipient’s wishes or real needs”). But I feel even the comparison of “white knight syndrome” gets dicey. Because Allura is shown as acting happy without necessarily sacrificing things (in fact, she acts progressively depressed s7-s8, the more she has to give up intrinsic things about herself or her identity). But when Allura chooses to assist or sacrifice, the sacrifice she makes has a very relevant and functional impact for the people she helps.

In season 1, she chooses to sacrifice herself to save Shiro. Shiro was, at that time, the Black Paladin and leader of Voltron, so Allura saw herself as functionally the less important of the two to save since she did not pilot the universe’s only weapon against Zarkon.

With the Balmera, she similarly chooses to act because the Balmerans themselves acknowledge they are entirely out of options, and also because the Balmerans (and the Balmera itself) accept her help she offers. At this point in time, she has already established a deep personal connection with them by virtue of their shared trauma of losing their home planets.

(Photo IDs: Shay says, “We’re lost! All are trapped with no chance for escape!” Allura says, “We can’t give up.” Shay responds, “But what can be done?” The group realizes the Balmera is regenerating beneath the ship, and Shay wonders why. Allura says, “The Castle!”)

Here, Allura assumes that the Castle—which is powered by a Balmeran crystal itself—could be regenerating the Balmera. But a Balmeran elder corrects her:

(Photo ID: A Balmeran elder says, “Not just the Castle, but you, as well.”)

So Allura did not even recognize at first that she was in any way a part of the solution to the Balmera regenerating.

Regarding the Balmera act itself, I’m not sure it satisfies the conditions for a white savior complex? I’m curious about your thoughts here, because I guess I saw it happening differently, from a witchcraft perspective...

We know from both Coran and Shay that originally, Alteans were one of the historical races who sacrificed some of their own energy to replenish the Balmera when seeking a crystal:

(Photo ID: Coran saying, “In the days of old, when Alteans were given the gift of crystals from a Balmera, we would repay its sacrifice by performing a ceremony. A sacred Altean would re-infuse the Balmera with quintessence. In this way, we had a symbiotic relationship.”)

We see that Balmerans were a voluntary part of this energy exchange by virtue of their unique connective powers (which is likely why we see them kneeling and activating said powers during these ceremonies).

Shay herself seems to indicate she is highly aware of these old ceremonies:

(Photo ID: Rax says, “Everyone comes to Balmera and takes, but gives nothing in return!” Shay says, “In the past, those who took the Balmera’s crystals would replenish her with energy. It was an equal exchange.”)

Shay agrees that the ceremony itself involves a sacred exchange of life force.

So I would argue that in this case, the Balmerans are not kneeling to Allura specifically or worshiping someone—it seems to be just the imagery associated with magical spells/magical transfers (where one object in the middle is the main conduit/focal point, and the other objects surrounding help to create and sustain the spell/protective barrier, etc).

One of the basic practices in real-world witchcraft is casting a magic/ritual circle. The circle creates a space where the spell, ritual, or form of protection can be performed. Forgive the stock image, but here’s just a super basic example:

(Photo ID: A magic circle in the form of a pentagram, with a candle in the middle, compared to a screenshot of 5 Balmerans surrounding Allura in the form of a pentacle, creating a sacred space with Allura glowing in the center.)

The five points in particular mimic standard pentacle-based ritual circles designed to create a sacred space of some kind. We do see various configurations of witchcraft imagery used in other instances throughout the show, such as when the druids have to help Haggar sustain her spells:

(Photo ID: Haggar centered in a magic circle, surrounded by druids helping her complete the ritual. Haggar kneels against the glowing symbols to complete the ritual.)

I think, similar to the druids that Haggar relied upon to help her complete a spell, it can be argued that the Balmerans were an active part of the regeneration spell with Allura. We see across the entire Balmera that they magically connect to help sustain the energy transfer, because it’s a planet-wide, massive undertaking:

(Photo ID: Balmerans activating their connection to the Balmera in the middle of the sacred ceremony to regenerate the Balmera.)

To me, it felt like the Balmerans were necessary to complete this ceremony--without their agreement to this energy exchange, and without them connecting to the Balmera to assist the transfer, Allura might not have been able to connect her life force and transfer power to the whole planet.

And to complete the ceremony, Allura herself kneels as well, just as Haggar did and just as the Balmerans around her do, in connection with the Balmera:

(Photo ID: Allura kneeling alongside Balmerans to complete the ritual.)

(Which means she’s technically kneeling to at least three other Balmerans in front of her.)

So I think the kneeling imagery would not correlate to some white savior complex event as suggested.

One other thought I had is that I feel help from a “white savior” is often haphazard and pushed onto recipients regardless of their thoughts or real needs. In comparison, we know that the Balmerans were willing to try this spell with Allura and accepted her idea of attempting the ancient ceremony. The only person who expressed hesitancy is Coran, who warns Allura that this attempt could kill her.

(Photo ID: Coran warns Allura, “To heal an entire planet, it could take more energy than you possess.”)

I do think it could again be argued that Allura seriously undermines her own value and worth in an attempt to help everyone, no matter the cost, which potentially gets more into white knight syndrome born out of trauma than white savior complex born out of privilege. She snaps back at Coran for being concerned about her well-being, and then she proceeds to enact the ceremony, not knowing for sure whether she’d live or die. But Allura also knows that her life force is uniquely tied to Voltron and that she is the only one with this kind of connection to the Castle ship’s battle-class Balmera crystal—all of this makes her a very powerful capacitor in a lot of ways. Which is why she looks like this after the ceremony:

(Photo ID: Allura having collapsed in Shay’s arms after regenerating the Balmera, but her physical features are not otherwise affected.)

And not like this:

(Photo ID: A screenshot of an Altean named Petrulius from season 6, whose features are distorted after having had the life/quintessence sucked out of him.)

So to me, it seemed that Allura was enacting an ages-old, magical ceremony approved by and wanted by the Balmerans—simply on a scale that no one had ever before attempted. And it’s likely that no one else would or could attempt it, because Allura is the single character in the entire universe whose personal life force is tied to Voltron’s regenerative energy (by virtue of Alfor’s alchemy on her as mentioned in episode 1). It’s an even deeper tie to the whole machine than the transient bond between paladin and lion. No other Balmeran or Galran or Altean had that kind of tie in their life force. Likely, even Alfor would have died if he’d attempted this act himself without being connected to an infinite power source.

And after Allura saves the Balmera with assistance from Balmerans, we also do not see her like this with the Balmeran people:

(Photo ID: Lance soaking up a savior fantasy as previously mentioned in this meta.)

Instead, post-Balmera resurrection, we see it’s actually not even the Balmerans themselves who thank Allura. The Balmerans simply convey the will of the Balmera, which Allura cannot hear:

(Photo ID: A Balmeran says to Allura, “Yes. The Balmera lives. It thanks you.”)

So backing up for a second, I do think there are much larger issues happening in the narrative with Voltron itself, with the unequal power dynamics of having young, inexperienced people from a single planet make and enact all the big universal decisions. But in the instance with the Balmera, it seemed like Allura was openly welcomed to help save the planet, using magical ceremonies as approved by the Balmerans themselves for millennia, and that the Balmerans were not passive in those ceremonies but a necessary part of their success.  

In general, Allura doesn’t seem to embody the “white savior complex” vibe at all to me, unlike some others in the show. Even in season 8, when Allura planned to make The Really Big Sacrifice, she asked her team to keep her actions a secret. She literally didn’t care for any respect or acknowledgment or prestige in exchange for sacrificing her life. She was doing what needed to be done because she was, once again, one of the few who could even perform at that level:

(Photo ID: Shiro says to Allura, “Most of them won’t know the sacrifice you made so they could live.” Allura replies, “And they’ll never need to.”)

(As an aside, I would argue that it was entirely unnecessary that the narrative would demand Allura sacrifice herself at all when she was literally standing in the universe’s seat of power alongside other powerful beings like her own father or the billions of other magic-wielding dead people, because apparently the lines between life and death blur in that space.)

(I also think there are some questionable “master race” vibes in the VLD universe in general, given that it forcefully pushes, even against the wishes of Alteans themselves, that Alteans are the only ones who can wield the big power to do big things. It’s clear that other groups and beings can wield magical abilities, but the larger narrative very oddly pins the “purest quintessence/bluest blood” back on Alteans time and time again in later seasons, leaving Allura in basically a no-win, no-help-available situation until other Alteans come along.) 

So yeah, I hope something in this meta might help settle some concerns about Allura as a representation of white savior complex? Or at least that this would open conversation for further discussion about what could be done in future iterations to avoid that messaging. Because yeah, I agree with you that the unquestioned savior complexes in this show are a topic that can and should be discussed! And also that, despite early world-building to suggest otherwise, the narrative especially in s6-s8 pushes that Alteans have a “purer/more alive” life force compared to any other race or form. Which is just…hm. Like, the master race vibes of all that are weird and definitely not even inherent to the Voltron franchise. (In previous iterations, humans, Galrans/Drule, and Alteans could all perform incredible levels of magic. For example, in Dynamite Voltron, Keith, Lotor, and Lotor’s siblings had all been taught magic.)

There’s definitely some weird images and unnatural power dynamics in VLD at times. It seems like more often than not, the narrative does strive to make Allura sacrificing something the only viable resort for anyone ever. In those circumstances, I’m just not convinced that she herself functions as an embodiment of white savior complex, by virtue of her behavior in those instances. But it’s definitely weird that the narrative places so much weight on her when the larger Team Voltron narrative is supposed to be about found family and strength in unity.

(If you read this far, thank you! Sorry I’m not succinct.) 

[meyerlansky]

since I watched u play thru marble nest and you had all those withheld Thoughts and Opinions can I ask ur thoughts on one aspect of the story: the way everyone in town seems to disagree on what kind of person dankovsky is, what he wants to do, etc.? it feels to me like it's meaningful on a story and meta level that he's so built up by others to be whatever they want to see?

admittedly most of those went unsaid because i’m inarticulate as shit when i can’t write my thoughts out and i lost my train of thought talking to npcs, and also all of them basically just end in "godDAMN i love him"

BUT YES oh man i definitely agree, daniil is on the receiving end of a TON of projection and assumptions, and i think the thing is, he sort of... cultivates it? like artemy gets people's assumptions projected on him too, but he's MUCH more vocal about correcting it when someone's expectations of him don't match up with how he sees himself. daniil, on the other hand, tends to wear people's perceptions of him like a second skin, and doesn't push back nearly as hard or as often when those perceptions don't sync up. i will be nice to my dash and put my rambly bullshit under a cut, but tl;dr i think daniil finds value in finding out how people see him and utilizing that perception to get what he really wants, and he's willing to play the villain in particular because a. negative perception is as useful as positive perception if you're clever enough to use it to your advantage, and b. based on some stuff in artemy's route but especially based on the particular circumstances of marble nest, he thinks that, to some degree, he deserves to be thought badly of.

so i realized halfway through writing this you probably meant marble nest's story specifically, but i think it's relevant to his characterization in artemy's route too, because... marble nest daniil is not that different from artemy route daniil, as far as i'm concerned—he's just more desperate and more beaten down. as for the actual question, overall i get the vibe that daniil's used to leveraging how he's perceived to get what he needs out of a situation, and he's waaay more comfortable playing the villain than, say, artemy is, if that's what people are putting on him from jump. it's less work, right? correcting people's assumptions is a waste of valuable time and energy, and people are hard to convince once they've set their mind to something. why bother when you can just play along and, if you're clever enough about it, get what you need out of the interaction anyway? he gets built up into so many different versions of himself by different characters because he's willing to be different things to different people without it eroding his goals or his sense of self. he has a flair for the dramatic, obviously, but i don't know how much of it is innate and how much of it is cultivated in service of that kind of perception leveraging. like, prime example, the day 1 conversation with artemy reads as EXTREMELY performative—from his word choice to his demeanor to the exclamation points in the dialogue to the fucking LIGHTING, he comes off like he's playing a role, and not a new one. and when the conversation's over, he's learned some things about what kind of person artemy is, what kinds of things get a rise out of him, all without really revealing too much of his own hand. but the front sloughs off the closer he gets to artemy, and it sloughs off QUICK, to the point that A DAY AND A HALF LATER he's gone from saying "you owe me" in the most facetious way possible to "i need your help" and "if this goes badly, i'll take the consequences" completely unselfconsciously, and subsequent conversations with artemy are complete turnarounds from how he approaches artemy and their relationship on day 1. on the whole, i think he cares way less about his reputation than he does about Getting Shit Done, and he's surprisingly willing to be the scapegoat for other people's fears and other negative emotions, as long as the end result doesn't hamper his goals. which makes some sense considering his corpus of research involves spitting directly in the face of natural law and the people who consider themselves responsible for enforcing it. you don't do that kind of shit if you care about being well-liked. so i think 99% of the time, daniil gets read multiple ways—often incorrectly—because he finds more value in utilizing those perceptions than he finds in correcting them and Being Known. as far as characters we see in the game go, artemy's the exception, which might change once daniil's route is out, but every comment everyone else makes to artemy about daniil leans on their assumptions about him, which means he's not going around showing anyone else what he really thinks.

i also think daniil has sort of... internalized that he's Unlikable, on a personal level. he doesn't walk into a single situation in p2 expecting to be liked, or willingly helped, or for his presence to be wanted beyond the utility he can provide. he relies almost entirely on his ability to deliver solutions [with, uh, declining success as the game goes on], the respect his reputation and his status as the kains' guest confers, and on the rumor that he's willing to get violent if things don't go his way. i think he's utterly convinced his ultimate goals will benefit humanity as a whole and therefore are fundamentally good, but i don't think he thinks HE'S good. there's a couple of moments in marble nest where he can pretty explicitly shoot down people saying nice things about him, and the "i guess i had to prove them right" and "do you condemn me?" lines in the shelter convo do not read to me like the words of a man who thinks he's 100% in the right in the way he's gone about achieving his goals. so like as much as i think he does have a very solid sense of Who He Is, i don't think it's a very generous self-image, and i don't think it's entirely accurate either, because i do think he's fundamentally a good person, despite people [in the game and out of it] not really bothering to push past whatever front he's put on. artemy pushes through it, and the kids in marble nest push through it, and i think it's somewhat telling that the kids in marble nest are... the only real people IN marble nest. georgiy undermining his authority as soon as he's indisposed is part of the fever dream; the soldiers and orderlies believing he's the one giving the okay to kill kids and civilians are part of the fever dream; the clerk assuming daniil will agree with his racist bullshit is part of the fever dream. all these negative images of himself are in his head—based on previous conversations with the real people, but at the time of marble nest, in his head. they're all things he, somewhere in his mind, expects people to think of him or expect of him, and to me, that's not the kind of stuff someone as arrogant and convinced of his own awesomeness as people seem to think daniil is would think about himself. but the kids worrying about his health and taking care of him while he's infected are real, and for whatever reason they think he's worth trying to save. THAT'S the reality, THAT'S who he really is, even if he can't see it himself, and i don't think he can.

so ANYWAY i think the multiplicity of daniils in marble nest in particular is to some degree a manifestation of the fact that he IS willing to be different things to different people, that he knows this about himself, and that he has SOME level of anxiety over the thought of the various masks becoming the reality, and him losing control over who he ACTUALLY is, not just how he's perceived. i think this bothers him in artemy's route as well—the last thing he says to artemy translates to "the greatest power is to have power over oneself" and i do not think he's talking about himself. i think he's talking about artemy, and the fact that, ESPECIALLY from daniil's perspective in artemy's route, artemy very much controls not only his own narrative, but at the very least strongly influences daniil's and everyone else's too. [there are also layers and layers with that line and the doll narrative but i am too tired to get into it right now and also the doll narrative fucks my feelings up in so many ways.] i have no idea if any of this makes any sense, but here it is /gestures weakly at All This

[likelightningafterthethunder]

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter One: Damned Smile

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

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--

Even years later, that damn smile haunted his dreams.

There was absolutely no reason for him to still think about the event. Everything had been taken care of when it had happened― injuries were treated, authorities alerted, information secured, and a press conference to tie it all up in a big red bow. There were no loose ends, no surprise second coming, no physical reminders of what happened lingering in his daily life. Katsuki would have labeled it as done, dealt with, and no longer relevant, shoving it aside in his memory so he could focus on actual important shit.

Except his mind had different plans.

When he was lucky, he could completely forget about the event for months. Other times, his dreams would be filled with nothing but that damn smile, taunting him with its silence. He could usually predict when the dreams would come― the anniversary of the event for example― but other times, it seemed like anything could trigger the memory. He once saw a bright yellow balloon and for the rest of the day, every time he closed his eyes he saw that damned smile, never wavering despite the curses and insults Katsuki spewed.

He wanted to forget it. He wanted so desperately to forget it. For the image to erase itself from his mind, for it to take the feelings away with it. He could deal with the anger, he could always deal with the anger, but when his memory reminded him of the wave of hurt and betrayal that nearly blinded him…

When his alarm jolted him from his sleep and freed him from the smile, he couldn’t get out of bed fast enough. He woke up drenched in a cold sweat, sheets singed and smoking lightly as he unclenched his hands, and Katsuki was, for once, very relieved that not all of his sweat was explosive. He slapped the singes a few times to ensure that all of the embers were put out before heading for the bathroom, cursing under his breath as he flinched at his own reflection in the mirror.

There was nothing particularly wrong with his appearance, if you didn’t count the dark circles under his eyes from a fitful night’s sleep or his clammy skin, but after being plagued by the smile, Katsuki could barely look at himself. His reaction to the smile made him feel weak, like he couldn’t handle himself and that there was something wrong with him. It was just a smile after all. There was no reason for him to react to it like a nightmare, no reason for him to lose sleep over it or to feel overwhelmed by emotions at the thought of it.

Yet when he saw the smile and saw how the corners of his mouth were tugged a bit too tight, how his eyes were open a bit too wide, how the only shine in his eyes were the reflections of light on tears that refused to fall…

Katsuki cursed.

The icy cold shower did little to help distract him from the memory, nor did his morning run nor the steaming shower he took after. He wasn’t supposed to head into the agency today, so he didn’t have any planned beatdowns for today, and yes he probably shouldn’t be hoping for it, but part of him hoped for a sudden emergency villain so he could distract himself by focusing on beating some villain’s ass into next week.

A few hours later when his phone refused to stop buzzing, Katsuki wondered if throwing his phone across the room until it stopped would be close enough to beating villain ass to work. He reluctantly decided that talking to people so they’d leave him alone was probably less hassle to deal with than having to replace his phone and distribute his new number (even if it would give him an excuse to ghost some of these damn extras).

A few individual texts and a group text were the cause of the buzzing. As the group text’s new message count continued to rise, he figured it would be easier to respond to the individual texts first. Just in case he changed his mind about destroying the phone.

Four Eyes (Rocket Legs): Hello Bakugou, this is a reminder about the upcoming Class A reunion. As the head of the reunion committee, it is my duty to ensure an accurate headcount for the event, and I have yet to receive your response about your attendance. Please ensure to respond via the following link by this Friday at 11:59PM. [Class A 10 Year Reunion RSVP]

Four Eyes (Rocket Legs): In case you missed the previous messages regarding the reunion, the event is March 28th starting at 7PM at the Shinjuku Hotel in Musutafu. If you need to rent a room for the night or the weekend, please alert the Shinjuku Hotel staff that you are part of the Class A reunion party by next Wednesday for an event discount.

Katsuki frowned. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the possibility of being surrounded by all of his former classmates and even less at the idea of being socially obligated to spend the entire evening with them. At least when he met up with his friends elsewhere, he could always claim needing to leave early so he could make the last train or that work needed him to come in early the next day.

He closed out of the conversation, figuring he still had a few more days to decide if he really wanted to deal with his classmates for an entire evening.

Midoriya: Hey Katsugou! I was wondering if you’re going to go to the reunion? Tenya said the deadline to RSVP is coming soon and we haven’t heard from you, so I just thought I’d check in!

Katsuki: The fuck is Katsugou?

Midoriya: Oh sorry!! Typo!!

Midoriya: Anyway, are you coming?

Katsuki closed out of the conversation and moved on to the next one.

Shitty Hair: Katsuki! Are you coming to the reunion or not dude????

Katsuki: Fuck off.

Shitty Hair: Aww dude that’s no way to talk to your best friend, you know you love me!!

Katsuki: I’m blocking you.

He did not, in fact, block him. But he did close out of Eijirou’s texts.

Save for the newest text sent directly from Eijirou, all that was left was the backlog of texts in the group text. It had kept going off while he was reading the other conversations, so Katsuki figured it meant that everyone was either off for the day or on their lunch break.

Raccoon Eyes: guys!!!!! the reunion is COMING UPPPPPP!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: i cant wait to s

Raccoon Eyes: ee all of u guys again!!

Tape Face: lmao you saw us last week

Raccoon Eyes: yes

Raccoon Eyes: an eteRNITY ago

Raccoon Eyes: and like

Raccoon Eyes: kats left early so we didnt have everyone

Raccoon Eyes: so it doesnt count

Shitty Hair: Yeah Katsuki don’t leave early next time!!

Raccoon Eyes: we just have to hold him hostage next time

Raccoon Eyes: or like

Raccoon Eyes: AMBUSH him

Tape Face: i can always tape him up

Raccoon Eyes: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES

Raccoon Eyes: tape him to the wall

Raccoon Eyes: and then like

Raccoon Eyes: steal his wallet

Raccoon Eyes: cant get on transit w no moneys

Raccoon Eyes: ei and han hold him down

Raccoon Eyes: i run to hide his wallet where he cant fi

Raccoon Eyes: nd it

Raccoon Eyes: probs keeps kats tapped to the wall all night

Raccoon Eyes: free up his arms so he can have a drink????

Tape Face: explosion palms dude

Raccoon Eyes: oh u right

Raccoon Eyes: he can just have a cup w like

Raccoon Eyes: a REALLY REALLY long straw

Raccoon Eyes: make sure u tape him up w his hands behind his back

Tape Face: you got it

Shitty Hair: He’s in this chat guys he’s going to see the plan

Raccoon Eyes: whatevs we can still totally blindside him

Raccoon Eyes: ANYWAYS

Raccoon Eyes: ure all going right?????

Tape Face: ya I rsvpd a while back

Shitty Hair: Yep!! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!

Raccoon Eyes: what about u kats

Raccoon Eyes: kats???

Raccoon Eyes: KAAAAAAAAAAAAATS

Raccoon Eyes: k

Raccoon Eyes: a

Shitty Hair: I’ll text him separately

Raccoon Eyes: t

Tape Face: he probably has this muted lmao

Raccoon Eyes: s

Raccoon Eyes: !!!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: how dare u ignore us

Raccoon Eyes: after everything weve done for u!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: thought we were ur ride or die hoes

Raccoon Eyes: dont tell me ur not going!!!!!

Raccoon Eyes: im so offended

Raccoon Eyes: how could u do this to us kats

Shitty Hair: Maybe he’s at work today?

Raccoon Eyes: boo

Raccoon Eyes: how dare he prioritize wo

Raccoon Eyes: rk over us

Raccoon Eyes: his best friends

Raccoon Eyes: the suns of his life

Raccoon Eyes: the bit of happiness in the cold

Raccoon Eyes: cold

Raccoon Eyes: cold

Tape Face: coooooooooold

Raccoon Eyes: COOOOOOOOLD

Raccoon Eyes: thing he calls a heart

Shitty Hair: Lmao

Tape Face: its got a bit of warmth

Tape Face: most of it is his temper

Raccoon Eyes: boom boom POW

Raccoon Eyes: well while we wait for kats

Raccoon Eyes: help me pick some photos for the slideshow!!

Tape Face: are you doing only UA pics or some stuff since then

Tape Face: somehow iida managed to not specify lmao

Shitty Hair: The info email was like ten pages, how did he miss it

Tape Face: idk

Raccoon Eyes: ive got plenty for both!!

Raccoon Eyes: momo said pref UA pics but some new stuff is good too

Raccoon Eyes: show how far weve come n all that

Tape Face: oh cool let me get some opinions then too

Shitty Hair: Anyone have any pics of the camping trip from second year?

Raccoon Eyes: before or after todoroki and kats’ fight turned it into a icy hot springs

Shitty Hair: Both lmao but probably before it went to hell

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: ofc ive got us chillin in the springs

Raccoon Eyes: well most of us

Raccoon Eyes: kats u never get in the water w us :C

Raccoon Eyes: lets go to the beach next time!!

Tape Face: hed prob boil the water w you in it if you dragged him in lmao

Tape Face: spicy acid time

Raccoon Eyes: id like to see him TRY

Shitty Hair: Don’t tempt him lmao

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: i got like a shit ton more

Raccoon Eyes: should i send some of THE FIGHT

Shitty Hair: Maybe not

Tape Face: yes

Tape Face: well

Tape Face: depends on how many pissed off katsuki pics youre putting in lmao

Raccoon Eyes: OH

Raccoon Eyes: OHHHH

Raccoon Eyes: OHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Tape Face: ?

Raccoon Eyes: dude

Raccoon Eyes: do u have the POMERANIAN pic

Tape Face: o shit

Tape Face: image.png

Shitty Hair: I still think Katsuki should’ve taken that pup home

Shitty Hair: They’re matching!

Tape Face: image.png

Tape Face: i also have this one

Tape Face: when she tried to bite his nose off lmao

Raccoon Eyes: kats couldve named her king explosion murder

Raccoon Eyes: or just murder

Raccoon Eyes: p sure she wouldve tried to murder kats at least o

Raccoon Eyes: nce

Tape Face: lmao she basically tried when he found her

Shitty Hair: Maybe it’s for the best that he didn’t keep the pup

Tape Face: look what i found

Tape Face: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: AWWWW YES

Raccoon Eyes: LOOK AT USSSSS

Raccoon Eyes: we look FABBBB

Shitty Hair: Is that from the dance?

Tape Face: ye

Raccoon Eyes: guys what if we recreate that pic at the reunion

Raccoon Eyes: the fits?

Raccoon Eyes: immaculate

Raccoon Eyes: the pose?

Raccoon Eyes: perfection

Tape Face: hotel?

Tape Face: trivago

Shitty Hair: I’m down for recreating some pics!

Raccoon Eyes: yessssss

Raccoon Eyes: u have no choice either kats u gotta do it

Raccoon Eyes: wherever u are

Shitty Hair: Oh he replied!!

Raccoon Eyes: SWEET

Raccoon Eyes: what he say

Shitty Hair: He said fuck off

Tape Face: as expected

Shitty Hair: Lmao he threatened to block me again

Tape Face: thought he said he was blocking you last week

Shitty Hair: Yea exactly

Raccoon Eyes: HOW RUDE

Raccoon Eyes: as punishment for not paying attention to us

Raccoon Eyes: im gonna send this

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Tape Face: LMAO whend you make that

Shitty Hair: Is that Katsuki with a cat face and ears

Shitty Hair: Dude I don’t know if he’s going to kill you for that or for the pink hair first lmao

Raccoon Eyes: lmao made it just now

Raccoon Eyes: well MAYBE if he ANSWERED us

Katsuki: Delete it.

Tape Face: O SHIT

Tape Face: you summoned him

Raccoon Eyes: NO I WILL NOT

Katsuki: Delete it Raccoon Eyes or else I’m coming for you.

Tape Face: are you coming for the left shoes and shittin in them

Raccoon Eyes: NOOOOOOO not my shoes!!!!!!!!

Tape Face: its just the left shoes tho

Raccoon Eyes: BUT THATS MY FAVE SIDE

Katsuki: What the fuck are you two going on about?

Raccoon Eyes: DONT COME FOR M

Raccoon Eyes: Y LEFT SHOES KATS IM SORRY

Katsuki: I’m not coming for your fucking left shoes. Or any of your shoes.

Katsuki: I will be coming for you if you don’t delete that picture, though.

Raccoon Eyes: FORGIVENESS

Raccoon Eyes: I BEG

Raccoon Eyes: PLSSSSS

Katsuki: Delete the picture.

Raccoon Eyes: ugh fiiiiiiiiiine

Raccoon Eyes: its deleted

Raccoon Eyes: i wont send it to momo for the slide show

Katsuki: Good.

Raccoon Eyes: IF U COME TO THE REUNION

Katsuki: Fuck off.

Shitty Hair: C’mon Katsuki!! It’ll be fun!!

Tape Face: ya it wouldnt do if we didnt have our exploding star

Raccoon Eyes: ill send momo WORSE if u dont come

Raccoon Eyes: nd u wont know WHAT til AFTER

Raccoon Eyes: so PLSSSSSSSSSS

Raccoon Eyes: PRETTY PLSSSSSSS

Raccoon Eyes: PLS COME TO THE REUNION

Raccoon Eyes: ill spam u a lot worse if u dont show us proof of rsvp

Raccoon Eyes: pls kaaaaaaaaats

Raccoon Eyes: kaaaaaaaaats

Raccoon Eyes: k

Raccoon Eyes: a

Katsuki: Ugh fucking fine, I’ll do the RSVP now then.

Raccoon Eyes: t

Raccoon Eyes: YAY

Four Eyes (Rocket Legs): Good afternoon, Bakugou! I just wanted to confirm with you that I have received your RSVP for the Class A reunion. As a reminder, if you need to rent a room for the night or the weekend, please alert the Shinjuku Hotel staff that you are part of the Class A reunion party by next Wednesday for an event discount.

Katsuki: image.png

Katsuki: image.png

Katsuki: Four Eyes is watching the RSVP form like a fucking hawk apparently.

Raccoon Eyes: YAAAAAY URE RSVPD!!!

Shitty Hair: You know him, always dedicated to his work

Tape Face: sweet

Raccoon Eyes: are u guys getting rooms

Tape Face: yea musutafus too far for a round trip

Tape Face: esp since itll prob end late

Shitty Hair: I got one for the weekend!

Tape Face: wbu mina

Raccoon Eyes: booked a room already!!

Raccoon Eyes: kaaaaats wbu

Raccoon Eyes: u should

Raccoon Eyes: we could have a brunch or lunch or s/t thats just us

Raccoon Eyes: plsssssss kats

Katsuki: I’ll think about it.

Tape Face: better than a no lmao

Shitty Hair: If they run out of space or if you decide last second, you can room with me dude

Raccoon Eyes: awww why not a yes

Katsuki: I haven’t asked the other Four Eyes for the time off yet.

Tape Face: is this four eyes no4 or no15

Raccoon Eyes: four eyes no69

Raccoon Eyes: no wait

Raccoon Eyes: no420

Tape Face: haha blaze it

Raccoon Eyes: BLAZE IT

Shitty Hair: It’s number 7

Katsuki: Fuck you, I don’t have that many Four Eyes saved in my phone.

Shitty Hair: I’d be surprised if you had 420 contacts period dude

Raccoon Eyes: would b hilarious tho

Katsuki: Yes, it’s Four Eyes number 7.

Shitty Hair: I was right!!

Katsuki: Why would I ask any of the other Four Eyes for time off? They’re not my fucking bosses.

Tape Face: dunno

Raccoon Eyes: idk maybe ure secretly dating one a

Raccoon Eyes: nd have to confirm that its ok

Raccoon Eyes: ARE U SECRETLY DATING A FOUR EYES

Raccoon Eyes: U HAVE TO TELL US IF U ARE

Raccoon Eyes: URE LEGALLY OBLIGATED

Tape Face: o shit

Tape Face: scandalous

Katsuki: Shut the fuck up, I’m not dating anyone, secret or not.

Raccoon Eyes: thats what they all say

Katsuki: Whatever. I’m not dating anyone.

Raccoon Eyes: kats n four eyes no420 sittin in a tree

Raccoon Eyes: k

Raccoon Eyes: i

Raccoon Eyes: s

Raccoon Eyes: s

Raccoon Eyes: i

Katsuki: I’ll blow up all of your left shoes when you’re not home.

Raccoon Eyes: n

Raccoon Eyes: NO

Raccoon Eyes: IM STOPPING DONT DO IT

Shitty Hair: Hey what do you guys think of this photo

Shitty Hair: image.png

Tape Face: dude yes

Raccoon Eyes: AWWWW OUR FIRST BILLBOARDS AS PROS

Katsuki: Do we really need to send them pictures? It’s not like we fucking forgot this stuff already.

Tape Face: you can be a killjoy if you want lmao

Tape Face: im sure mina will send more than enough to cover for you

Raccoon Eyes: U BETCHA

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Raccoon Eyes: image.png

Tape Face: lmao why do you have a pic of katsuki throwing ei

Shitty Hair: I still can’t believe you did that bro

Shitty Hair: WITHOUT WARNING TOO

Katsuki: I gave you plenty of fucking warning.

Shitty Hair: Saying “I’m throwing you” AS YOU’RE THROWING ME is NOT PLENTY OF WARNING DUDE

Raccoon Eyes: im always ready to document golden moments

Katsuki: Shut the fuck up. We won the training exercise so what’s it fucking matter?

Shitty Hair: YOU THREW ME!!

Katsuki: Tape Face caught you before you could get hurt.

Shitty Hair: YOU /THREW/ ME!!!!!!

Tape Face: barely caught

Katsuki: Whatever.

Raccoon Eyes: im still impressed by how eASY u made that look

Katsuki: What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?

Raccoon Eyes: o look conveniently timed distraction photo spam

Katsuki sighed as he continued the conversation, commenting here and there on the photos his friends sent for judgement. In retrospect, he probably should have tried to talk to Shion first, since there was a chance she would have denied the time off for the reunion. Although, knowing her, she would have accepted just to force Katsuki into socializing. He opened up a new text message, figuring that if Shion did decide to deny the time off, he would at least have a screenshot to send to his friends explaining the sudden change in plans.

Katsuki: I need March 28th and 29th off.

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Do my eyes deceive me? The great Katsuki Bakugou, asking for time off?

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): I’m amazed! Usually I have to ask you to take the day off!

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Nay, not ask, but force!

Katsuki: Are you going to give it to me or not?

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Depends! What do you need the time off for?

Katsuki: Class reunion.

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Oh those are fun!

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Fill out the proper time off paperwork and have it on my desk by Monday. I’ll approve the time off.

Four Eyes (Shitty Shion): Just keep your phone on you in case we need you to come in for an emergency, but I’ll try not to ruin your reunion with work.

Katsuki: Thanks.

Well, so much for an easy way out.

Katsuki pinched the bridge of his nose when he noticed that his phone had already accumulated another thirty texts in the past few minutes, no doubt primarily from Mina. He scrolled through the backlog, sending a few mostly empty threats when he saw photos he did not want projected for the entire class to see, freezing when his gaze met a pair of familiar amber eyes.

Shit.

In his scramble to close out of the photo, to escape the genuine smile that somehow was more haunting than the one in his dreams, he left the group text completely. He briefly thanked his past self; he’d impulse or rage quit the group text plenty of times before that this wasn’t unusual behavior. If he was lucky, his friends wouldn’t have noticed the timing of his departure and would assume he was just fed up with the notifications or the conversation.

Shitty Hair: You okay, Katsuki?

A weak laugh escaped Katsuki’s lips as he read the newest notification. Of course Eijirou noticed.

Katsuki: I’m fine.

Shitty Hair: Okay

Shitty Hair: We don’t have to talk about it

Shitty Hair: But if you want to, I’m here dude

Shitty Hair: I’ll tell the others that you left so your phone would shut up and not to add you back yet

Katsuki: Thanks. Really.

Shitty Hair: No problem dude

Katsuki put his phone down, silently praying for the smile to leave him alone.

When he finally laid down for bed that night, he repeated the short prayer, for a peaceful night’s rest free of the smile, of the hurt, of the pain, of the guilt.

But as always, the smile came.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

In Chains (Chapter Six) Mapped Emotions (Trafalgar Law)

Anxious barely described how she felt at the moment, waiting in the galley for word from Law. Samira wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there, but her thoughts were eating her alive. She was certain Law was going to demand that she leave his company once he heard what Arsenio had to say about her. The fact he brought the portly man aboard his sub was another reason she was sweating bullets; he was unpredictable and violent. Law was insane.

Samira buried her face into her quaking arms and took a breath. The tension was already extreme; her own was not needed. Law mentioned that her power roused emotions in a person that were often hectic. If what he said was accurate, then her power spreading at this time was not ideal.

She honestly wanted to cry, but to save herself the embarrassment, she focused on her breathing until the door opened. Samira brought up her head and forced a smile. It was Bepo and not Law who had entered.

He was taken back, but approached her regardless.

“How is Shachi? And you; and Penguin. I never wanted to––

Bepo lifted his paw to stop her. “Don’t worry about us. We know too well the risks.”

He watched her smile fade. It wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear – Bepo knew – but Law had instructed him to keep the condition of the party a secret. Samira was a guest, and once Law spoke to her; she may not be a guest for long.

Incidentally, Law also instructed him to bring Samira to him. Bepo mentioned this to her and saw her eyes widen in fear. He felt sorry for her, but orders were orders.

Samira hesitantly stood and followed Bepo through the galley and down a level to the crew bunks. No one was around, but she wondered if the sub was at rest on the water; her breath was steady and as she waited in the galley, she heard no sound otherwise suggesting that the Polar Tang had submerged. It felt like a bad omen to her; an end to beautiful days.

At the hatch door near the end of the hall Bepo left her. Samira watched his large figure as it departed up the stairs and sighed in despair. She assumed that she’d better knock. Doing so gently Law allowed her in seconds later.

He was turned – back towards her – searching through a thick tome from his bookstand. Samira took a reluctant seat in the open chair in front of his desk and sat quietly as he flipped through the pages in a rush. She occupied this brief moment of peace by searching his workspace; it was cluttered with interesting things.

She grew suspicious over the amass of bounty posters scattered around, but decided to ignore them. A pocket-sized chest of coins interested her more. And they were all unalike; shapes and colors that Samira had never seen before.

“You have an amazing collection of coins, Mester (mister) Trafalgar. How long have you been amassing them?”

Law hummed and turned to face her. “Since I became a captain. It’s an unnecessary interest I’ve yet to kick.”

“Why stop? It seems exciting to me.”

He snorted; she was easy to rouse. Law brought the tome over to the desk and laid it open. His money chest and the posters he relocated to make room – much to her disappointment.

“The Isle of Red Sands; it’s where you escaped from according to Frog-ya.”

Samira frowned. She hoped that he wouldn’t learn much from Arsenio, but whatever Law did to him apparently was enough to scare him into telling him the truth.

“That’s right,” she confirmed.

Law turned the book towards her. She recognized it as a map; a small and dated map of the Grand Line. The section she could see had a series of misshaped lumps that reminded her of islands; each one eventually connected to an island right before the Red Line.

“Where’s it located? I asked Frog-ya but he wasn’t too sure.”

She raised a brow. Too sure? Lifting a finger, she pointed to a place on the map with no name. There wasn’t even an island; it was directly at the base of the Red Line.

Law was shocked. “Your island is near the Red Line?”

Samira shook her head. “It’s inside the Red Line; a cave island. The reason no one knows where it’s located is because it’s never been found by sailors or the Marines. Foreigners seldom come to the Isle; storms and poor navigational skills bring them to our shore line.”

His eyes widened in realization. It never occurred to Law before that Samira was so unusual; her island was a relic to the past. It was located beneath the nose of the World Government – how ironic.

“Have you heard of the Void Century before?”

Unfortunately, no. Samira again shook her head. Law grinned; he assumed this was the case.

“It’s a century long gap in recorded and archaeological history so important and relevant that by learning them, one is said to become aware of the true history of the world,” he explained. “The World Government forbids the study of the Void Century, but many people choose to be ignorant about it; fear of being wiped out. Our language and currency are mostly the same wherever you go in this world, but there are ones like you who don’t fit.”

Samira frowned. “I had no idea. My country is isolated and I doubt anyone knows about the Void Century. Honestly, I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry, Samira-ya. It goes to show just how incompetent the World Government is.” Law shut the book and stood up to place it back in the case where he took it from.

Now to the matter at hand.

“Frog-ya confirmed that you have Devil Fruit powers.”

She assumed so.

“When you ate it; either it was a fruit of some kind with swirls on the peel or chunks of similar design, you would have learned its name. For some reason you don’t seem to remember, or know what a Devil Fruit is for that matter, but Frog-ya told me; in case you wanted to know,” he explained.

Law turned and waited for her to decide. Samira seemed to be in a heated debate with herself. She eventually sighed and nodded.

“The Kaosu-Kaosu no Mi is its given name. You spread and amass chaos and misfortune.”

Her eyes stung with tears. Shouldn’t she be ecstatic? All this resulted in was more dread. Her arms tightened around her waist. “I never wanted this; I thought by eating it I could avoid unnecessary casualties, but it mattered not to them. Arsenio and the others used me to ruin so many lives. I just … wanted to protect my people … but I––

“It doesn’t matter what you did in the past,” Law interrupted. He clutched the bridge of his nose in annoyance; so many tears for such a tiny woman. “You have no control over your power because no one ever allowed you a chance to learn. Who’s to stop you now?”

Samira widened her eyes. He was right. Arsenio and the others couldn’t stop her from learning. She rose up and without reasoning draped her arms around Law; her tearstained cheek rested against his collarbone.

He was at a loss on what to do. The rational response would be to embrace her back or ease her away, but Law was powerless. He allowed her to continue for now; his face was warm with embarrassment.

“Please teach me. I haven’t a clue where to start,” Samira begged.

Law grunted. He really had no time for this? The crew had an agenda of its own; training her wasn’t in the plan. However, it had occurred to him upon learning the extent of her power from Arsenio that she might come in handy when collecting the hearts he needed to sway the Marines. Samira was trained to fight; Shachi even said this. He could ask for her help for a little while until he learned what to do with her.

“You owe me so much already, Amunet-ya. Do you honestly want to add to it?”

She agreed with a nod. “If it means I can learn from you, then I don’t mind forever being in your debt.”

“You’ll regret that,” he assured her.

Samira snorted; she felt him shiver. Heat spread to her face. No doubt this was awkward for Law. She released him and stepped back. “Thank you … I don’t know much else to say.”

“You could start with an apology,” he mentioned.

What for? Samira was confused. She lifted a brow in uncertainty.

“Shachi is resting in his room.”

Her eyes grew in understanding. He got hurt because of her. She bobbed her head to agree. “May I be excused? I’d like to apologize to him and the others.”

Law nodded and sat back at his desk. “We have much to discuss, Amunet-ya. Don’t assume that I am done, and don’t get too comfortable with our guest; he’ll be departing our crew on the next island.”

“Yes sir.”

It may have been in good fun, but Samira felt a sudden ease wash over her. Yes sir; she saw herself as one of the crew for a moment. Before Law could scold her, Samira rushed from his room. She had a new found resolve burning in her chest.

Law and the crew were something precious she wanted to protect with her power. With time, she hoped to achieve this.

--

“Have you located them yet?”

She certainly had. Her dark wings beat relentlessly to keep up pace with the yellow sub. She was lucky that it hadn’t submerged yet, having found it before it disappeared again.

“I’m following them right now, master. How should I proceed?”

The voice on the line hummed. “Keep with them for now. Once you locate Arsenio and are capable of speaking to him, give him the message and return back. The pirates my asset is with is much too strong to deal with alone.”

“And about Daiane sir? If I see her should I do the same?”

Hissing, the voice slammed down the receiver and ended the call. Her Transponder Snail tied to her foot went silent. The woman laughed. Daiane and Arsenio were in trouble when they returned to the Isle. It brought her great pleasure to see them punished for their failures; Mariposa got a warning, but she too would soon be punished, once she returned to the Country of Love.

Yes. She couldn’t wait. A chirp of excitement left her beak; she began to whistle a happy tune.

Master loves when I whistle.    

[dammit-stark]

i am OBSESSED with royalty aus

fun fact: red, white & royal blue by Casey mcquiston is actually my favorite book (tied with Emma by Jane Austen, obviously) but anyway this was heavily inspired by the plot of that book so I hope you like it! - p.s this turned out to be like 1.8k words soooooo here it exists now okay

DROP YOUR FAV AU IN MY ASK BOX (OR JUST ANY IDEA IDC) AND ILL WRITE IT FOR YOU :)

...

“We’re supposed to hate each other,” Tony insists, head hanging off the side of his bed, his feet cushioned in the onslaught of pillows by the head board. Nat sits criss-cross applesauce in his peripheral vision, flipping through a magazine, “It’s not my fault he’s a pompous ass and we’re star-crossed nemeses.”

Nat stops flipping to look at him under an arched eyebrow, “Star-crossed, Tony? Really?”

“Oh, shush, you know what I am. We’re total opposites. My dad got elected by the people into the greatest country in the world, and he was born into the crappy inbred monarchy whose ass we beat centuries ago.”

Nat doesn’t look up from her magazine this time, “Didn’t your dad fund his campaign with the millions of dollars he got from his inheritance?”

Tony pauses. In the silence, he can hear the blood rushing to his head. He chooses to ignore Nat’s logic, “I really don’t think that’s relevant here.”

Nat gets to the last page and the flimsy pages clap noisily together. She points an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t care if you think he’s the Loch Ness monster, it’s a royal wedding and you’re the first son of the United States. You’re gonna have to suck it up and be on your best behavior.”

“Oh, no, Nat,” Tony coos sardonically, still hanging upside down, “Are you afraid I’m gonna embarrass you?”

With a complete straight face, she throws her magazine at him, and stands so she’s towering above him. He has to stretch his neck to look at her.

“Yes, she says. I absolutely am. Now, what do you want on your pizza? I’m hungry.”

As it turns out, Tony isn’t humanly capable of staying on his best behavior at the royal wedding. He definitely embarrasses Nat, and maybe, sorta, totally causes an international incident in the process.

“It’s not my fault,” He tells Nat on the jet back to the States, still hanging somewhere in the precarious limbo between disastrously drunk and world-endings hungover, “He started it.”

Nat just glares at him, “I was standing right there, Tony. I watched you push him first.”

“I-“ There’s not much point in arguing, “Yeah. Dad’s gonna be pissed, isn’t he?”

Nat sighs, a long, never-ending sigh that makes her sound decades older than she actually is. Tony has that effect on people.

“Don’t worry about your dad, Tony,” She tells him. This time, she’s flipping through a classified file folder instead of a dime-a-dozen tabloid edition, “We’re gonna fix your mess, as per usual.”

Tony can feel the hangover rearing it’s head over the drunkenness, and he sinks into his chair, eyes closing, “You’re the best, Nat. Thanks.”

Nat rolls her eyes as Tony falls asleep, “Yeah,” She murmurs under her breath to herself, “Damn right I am. Dumbass.”

It turns out that Nat’s solution to Tony’s antagonistic little international incident is to make it seem like the whole The-First-Son-Just-Pushed-A-Beloved-Prince-Into-His-Brother’s-Wedding-Cake thing seem more like a frat boy-esque ribbing gone bad. Tony hates the plan, and he tells Nat as such.

“This is a horrible plan. It’s not gonna work, and it means I have to spend an entire weekend with Prince Pissy Pants.”

They’re on the private plane again, flying back to England to fix Tony’s mess.

Nat rolls her eyes, and punches him in the shoulder, “Get over yourself, Stark. If you don’t want to hang out with your so-called nemesis, then stop getting drunk and pushing people into wedding cakes. This is your own fault. We’re fixing your problem for you. Get over it.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but otherwise consents, “Whatever.”

Nat passes him a file folder.

“What’s this?”

“The Prince’s interests. Study it. Learn it like it’s the back of your hand, and then study it even more. If you get caught in a lie, Stark, you’re beyond dead.”

He gets two lines in before he tears narrowed eyes away from the paper to suspiciously meet Nat’s expression, “Did he get one of these about me?”

“Yep.”

“What was in it?”

“Your interests, Stark.”

Tony does not envy whoever got assigned that task. He wonders how accurate it’ll be. He obediently reads through the Prince’s interests among an uncharacteristic silence. Nat almost thinks he’s grown up until he breaks said silence with a snort.

“His favorite book is Great Expectations? Nerd.”

When they land, Tony remembers why he pushed the prince in the first place. Yeah, the alcohol did half the work for him, but- something about the Prince’s stupidly perfect, absurdly handsome face just makes Tony want to start shoving people into cakes. Surely other people have the same urge.

“Mr Stark,” The Prince says as greeting. He doesn’t even offer a hand for Tony to shake, just smiles with his hands folded together, “It’s a shame these are the circumstances that you-“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re very polite, I get it. Prince Steve here to save the day with his antiquated, impeccable manners. Yippee-kiy-yai.”

Tony counts it as a win that he sees a flicker in that smile, but it crests back to sparkly perfection with a blink of the eye. There are cameras. Tony sees Nat out of the corner of his eye, glaring beside a distinct row of security, somehow looking the most intimidating of all of them. He smiles back, pasted and ridiculous and spiteful, his whole body tensed and relaxed at the same time.

He smiles winningly for the cameras.

Later, at the hospital, Tony wonders how Mr Prince Perfect can put on such a facade, even with sick kids. Because that’s obviously what this is. He watches from across the room as Prince Steven kneels beside a sick kid’s bedside, smiling kindly, and talking to the little girl with her baby yoda doll tucked into the crook of her arm.

It’s not until Tony has completely committed to his eavesdropping that he realizes there aren’t any cameras around to capture Steve’s amiability. That’s the first moment Tony thinks oh, maybe this guy isn’t as fake as I thought he was.

“You totally wouldn’t be Han Solo,” Tony interrupts because he’s totally an asshole and he knows it (that’s the different between Tony and Prince Stick-Up-Butt, he at least owns his assholery), “You’re a textbook Luke Skywalker if I ever met one, Prince.”

Steve’s responding grin is surprisingly left-leaning, and the kid in the hospital bed is giggling.

“Are you gonna try to tell me that you’re a Han Solo then?”

“Actually, I-“

“Because you’re not,” Steve’s totally serious except a slight twinkle in his eye, one forefinger tapping against his own knee as the little girl sits enraptured by the ridiculous conversation occurring just above her, “You’re Anakin through and through. Not in a bad way, just-“

Tony doesn’t mean to come off as truly surprised as he really does, but the way he shuts his mouth immediately gives him away, “No,” He says, “You’re right.”

Steve’s lips punch off at the corners in an amused, vaguely self-satisfied way that makes Tony want to soberly push him into another cake so expensive you need to take out a mortgage to eat a slice. Before Tony can needle him back, the prince is smiling back at the kid, a gentle hand on her arm. Huh.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Wendy. Thanks for talking about Star Wars with us.”

And like the smug bastard he is, Steve gracefully stands from her bedside and leaves the room. Oh no he won’t. Tony follows, angrily.

That’s how they end up in a near-empty hospital hallway together. And subsequently, it’s also how they’re pushed into the closest nearby maintenance closet by the nearest secret service operative, tripping over themselves and invisible equipment alike as they’re safely hidden away. It’s also how they end up on the floor, joints every which way, elbows menacing and in all the wrong places as they cajole violently among the brooms and buckets.

“Your elbow-“ Tony grunts, “Is in my side, Steve.”

“Yes, well, my elbow wouldn’t be in your side if your elbow wasn't in my shoulder.”

“Get your shoulder out of my elbow!”

“Why do you hate me?” Steve cuts him off, a hiss in his voice. Ooh, Mr Perfect Prince can actually get angry. Exciting.

Tony takes a deep breath. Or- as deep of a breath as he can take without drawing attention to their tight little maintenance closet/hideout.

“You’re not real. You’re fake. Everything you do has been trained into you, it’s annoying.”

“I feel pretty real to me, Stark.”

“You just- it’s a persona. You’re a persona. And the whole world blindly loves you for it.”

In the dark, Tony chews on his bottom lip- a chronic bad habit of his.

When Steve responds, his voice is low, even lower than it necessarily needs to be to keep attention away from their location. He can’t tell in the dark, but Tony thinks his head might be bowed. He can practically hear the thoughts in the prince’s head. But then again, they’re physically close enough, practically spooning ridiculously on the ground, he might as well tap directly into Steve’s mind they’re so close together.

“Do you think I want to be a persona, Tony? Do you think I did this to myself? I’m still me, I’m just- guarded. It’s not up to me. There’s a lot more to the world than my place in it.”

Tony’s quiet. It’s a much more real answer than he’d expected. He’d half expected the prince to spit on him or something, dig his elbow extra far into Tony’s side or something. Instead he gets this vulnerable little morsels of honesty, and Tony has nothing to say.

“I-“

Tony’s cut off by blinding light. Nat whips the door open.

“Ew, what are you guys doing on the ground? Why are you spooning?”

Steve hurried to his feet, cheeks visibly red, “The threat?” He demands, and Tony’s surprised Nat doesn’t demand a full sentence like she usually does, the cocky bastard. She nods succinctly.

“A false alarm. However, we’ve deemed it safest to move onto the next event.”

“Great, thanks,” The Prince says, and moves off down the hall, disappearing behind twin EXIT doors.

Tony’s still on the ground when Nat swivels back to look at him, a smug smile on her face.

“You hate each other, huh? Is that what you’re calling it nowadays?”

Tony rolls his eyes, “Oh, shut up, asshole, and help me.”

But he hadn’t had to tell himself deflect, deflect, deflect, and he’s pretty sure something about being stuck in a children’s hospital maintenance closet changed his feelings on the guy. Something about it.

As Tony walks to his next event, he has to push to keep the prince out of his idle mind.

When he departs for the United States hours later, Tony leaves the prince with his phone numbers.

“To corroborate our stories or whatever,” He tells Prince Steven, though he’s sure Nat isn’t convinced, “So we don’t have to keep going between these losers.”

Prince Steven accepts the offering with a smile, and Tony gets on the plane, leaving Britain behind him one last time. 

[psianabel]

Dark Road and the Book of Prophecies and its Final Passage

Ever since the very first story content from Dark Road, I can’t stop thinking about this.

The fact that the Book of Prophecies is common knowledge, or at least, something that keyblade wielders get taught about, is really something that took me out. 

In Dark Road we encounter Emblem Heartless, even though they technically wouldn’t exist for at least about 65 years in the future, making us believe that the Book of Prophecies projects them into these not-yet-recompleted worlds until they are recompleted.  (The worlds in Birth by Sleep are recompleted. They inhabit no Heartless anymore, somewhere between Dark Road and Birth by Sleep the projection ended and all worlds were recompleted. Pureblood Heartless only appear in the Realm of Darkness / Dark Corridors.)

That means the Book is still around in Dark Road, yes? Where is it and what actually got passed down from it? And where is it now? What does that Final Passage even mean? First things first. (Read More! it’s going to be long.)

I shouldn’t have been that surprised that the Book of Prophecies is apparently something Eraqus and Xehanort know about. Xehanort directly quotes it in KH3.

Which is actually more phrasing than anything else, because if Xehanort means the Final Passage from it, then it would be:

That it is not a direct quote from it might actually be important.

Emblem Heartless, as we know from KH2′s Secret Ansem Report 5, were made by Xehanort. Now we don’t know how much in detail the Book of Prophecies mentions events, because we ... really don’t get to know any quotes from it except the Final Passage. But if we assume the Book mentions at least the broader details of things, it makes me wonder if the Book namedrops Xehanort in combination with the Emblem Heartless?

Where am I going with this?

The Book of Prophecies was only for the eyes of the person who got it. Foretellers and Brain. The Foretellers are long gone and so are their Books, the only remaining Book would be Brain’s. We know Brain immediately took the Book and never let anyone else on it, keeping it to himself only. (Heck, in the scene where Brain reveals that Ventus isn’t on the Union Leader list, Skuld is astonished that Brain even has the Book, after all these years they were together.) Brain was secretive about his Book. Well, Ava told him he should keep it to himself (even though she could have only meant the List, but here it reads to me she means the Book and the List.), which makes sense if she wants to push Brain into the direction of changing fate. 

So, if Brain ended up in Scala after Daybreak Town fell and took his Book with him, then he may have continued to be so secretive about it, never telling anyone about its contents. However, what he does mention is its abilities. He didn’t shy away from that.

But. 

The Keyblade War was supposed to be “forgotten”, the Dandelions weren’t supposed to remember that, yet somehow that knowledge about it got passed down. Vague, and some details aren’t quite correct if we compare it to what we’ve seen in KHUx. Which, I guess, makes sense that parts of it get lost through history. 

(Either Brain ended up talking about the keyblade war to others just to meddle with stuff, because he wasn’t supposed to and was set on the path to change fate, or someone did get a hold of the Book and passed that knowledge down, (Or Luxu did, who knows, he must be around somewhere in Scala) as well as mentioned what the No Name keyblade does. But that’s another story there.)

What I’m saying is that the actual contents of the Book never really surfaced and only its abilities were truly important knowledge worthy of teaching. 

Just like the keyblade wielders in Scala got taught apparently. They know about the Book, what it can do. However, no one else has read it, no one else knows the future except for the last sentences. 

So, where is it now? Scala fell, worlds got recompleted and thus the projection of the Book ended. Is it gone, lost forever?

It can’t really be. We know Maleficent is searching for it as she mentions it in the Re:Coded movie (as well as the Box, but that’s beside the point here.) I don’t think they will drop this plot point just like that, especially now that the whole Black Box - Foretellers - Luxu - Return of the Master of Masters plot point will be relevant in the future soon. 

The Book can still be around. As of right now, the only “survivors” of Scala we know are Eraqus and Xehanort. If someone took it, then it could be them. 

We know Xehanort gets No Name eventually and gets it somewhere after his time travel shenanigans (because he mentions in the Re:Coded movie secret ending how it has yet to become a reality for him), and those time travel shenanigans happen some time after he met the Master of Masters.  In the Re:Coded Secret Ending, Xehanort quite obviously states he follows his destined path accurately. He does not want to meddle outside of it. He does what he feels like he is supposed to do.  Would be benefit from the Book of Prophecies here? No, not really. He follows it and there is that. Besides, if he had the Book of Prophecies, wouldn’t he know what “happens beyond the keyblade war”? He would get all the answers he wanted. But he didn’t had these answers and thus did his thing.

The person who doesn’t want to follow “destiny” is Eraqus. And he even mentions that in KH3.

We know that Eraqus eventually becomes quite light obsessed. And if we look at Dark Road, we slowly might see why. 

The whole plot point of the missing upperclassmen, how they (probably) vanished because of some darkness force - (probably) his classmates dying also because of some darkness. Eraqus becomes wary about the outside worlds, tries to hinder Xehanort from leaving for another journey

We know from Dark Road that it was a common practise that keyblade wielders who were about to take their Mark of Mastery soon, to leave for the outside worlds to broaden their horizon etc. (1, 2) and while Eraqus says their Mark of Mastery isn’t so soonish, Xehanort leaves anyways. And we also know that Eraqus asks to leave as well eventually (according to the KH3 Secret Report from Xehanort in his Mark of Mastery Journal), but that happens after Xehanort did his world tour.

However, I do believe something must have happened that Eraqus becomes so ... against visiting the outside worlds. 

I do believe it has something to do with the darkness in Xehanort, or that Eraqus also saw the darkness which Xehanort saw as well. Except Eraqus’s response was to close himself off and never interact with it again, while Xehanort got interested in the darkness. 

Eraqus, as we know him from Birth by Sleep, does not follow these customs from Scala anymore. He does not let Aqua and Terra to the outside worlds in preparation for their Mark of Mastery (and let’s not even mention Ventus here). Seeing the darkness in the outside worlds, losing his friends and upperclassmen made him fully invest in the light instead - while he always preached about balance, his only focus was light. The same as Xehanort, except he as well didn’t find the balance and ended up using darkness instead. 

So, what does this have to do with the Book of Prophecies? 

Eraqus knows of the Final Passage. He is scared of the darkness, what it can do. His teachings of light express that very well. Darkness cannot prevail if there isn’t any, so he only focused on the light, trying to block out that darkness can and is a natural occurence. After all, running away from his problems is what he does best ... 

While Xehanort followed his destiny, Eraqus tried to do the opposite. Again: “Who is to say I can’t change it? And maybe light will prevail.” 

... Which really is some neat parallel to Brain here.

So I believe Eraqus ended up with the Book of Prophecies, took it with him to the Land of Departure and hid it there in hopes to change what was written on that Final Passage. 

If he used it, or read it, is something I question. If he did read it, then he had too much fear to talk about it, because I don’t think he mentioned anything to the Wayfinder trio at all. 

However, just for the train of thought:  What if Xehanort ended up with the Book of Prophecies anyways? 

Xehanort could potentially have profited from it as well, even if he didn’t end up reading it at all. As mentioned earlier, the abilities of the Book were known, were taught. It can project things from the future, be it enemies or worlds. 

Interestingly enough, we know in KH3, Young Xehanort was able to create a copy of the Toy Box world. 

... Which, I guess, could be possible with the Book of Prophecies? For that he didn’t even have to read it, but to use its abilities.

Another instance where this happened was DDD and Traverse Town. There are two copies of it as well. If there is a connection between that and Toy Box, I don’t know. 

But maybe that is something to think about as well. 

--------------------------

One Final Thing: What does the Final Passage even mean? Why does the Book end there?

“On that fated land, a great war shall transpire. Darkness will prevail and the light expire.”

A keyblade war, obviously. The ongoing battle between light and dark finds its conclusion. There is a winner this time, one side - darkness - won, and light lost. 

You know, just like in the first round of KH3. It even gets directly mentioned.

And just like that, it ends. 

We know it didn’t, Eraqus pulled the chess piece back, Sora went through the tear in the fabric and activly changed destiny, and called upon the Light of the Past. 

... So, what about the Book of Prophecies? 

Did it change its text? Does it continue further from here on now? 

We know changing destiny is a thing, even back in Union Cross, as Ava decided to give Brain the Book and not the one the Master of Masters circled in red. Ava and Brain question even back then what happens to the Book if a person does not follow their destiny. (1 , 2 , 3 , 4)

... We just don’t know, yet, what happens to the Book, the most sense would be that it does indeed change its text the second something gets altered. Though, wouldn’t that mean that the Master of Masters would know this beforehand, if ... he can see the future?

It’s a paradox I can’t explain in Kingdom Hearts terms. At this point I would say ... altering futures are a big thing coming to KH in future games, but who knows, really. 

--------------------------------------

Regardless what is true what I mentioned in this post, I am very excited to see what future KH plot will bring. There is so much on it, so much to think about ... 

There are a few more things in my head that don’t really have something to do with all that, but I think that’s enough for now, thank you for reading :D

[fantaspasia]

Fairy Tail Timeline

Please note that most of this is estimated, based on what dates are given and what works best for my story (Carpe Diem, found on my profile on ff.net here: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/997490/). This isn’t, at all, definitive, so far as canon goes, though I did try to keep it as close to accurate as possible. I had to guess at a lot of the in-between stuff, and I’m perfectly alright with you guys using this timeline for your own stories, if you’d like. Just reference me as the creator, and you should be fine.

On another note, you will see below that a few of the OAV’s and at least one of the movies made it into this timeline, though I didn’t add the OAVs that were too far off from canon to make sense, since this timeline was built for fanfic purposes. I’ve got everything measured out in weeks, and as you can see below, nothing less than ½ a week is listed anywhere on this timeline, unless it really just happens over the course of a single day. Most of it is self explanatory, so you shouldn’t need a key to read this, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask. 

And I’ve gotta say it just once, even if it’s not actually super relevant: Fairy Tail is so much easier to timeline than Naruto was. I’m honestly relieved I didn’t have more trouble with this than I actually did when I first sat down to work everything out, and it genuinely surprised me. I seriously thought it was going to be a total nightmare because that’s what all my previous timelining experience pointed to, but Fairy Tail has clear story arcs, a legitimate year system, and several dated events spaced throughout the series. With all of that lined up, it was so easy to go through and determine how much time took place during a given arc and estimate the time between them for the events that didn’t happen back to back. Like, I am just so freaking happy with this, you guys.

Timeline

X784

Intro Arc: July 2- meet Natsu, July 4- join Fairy Tail; 14 ½ weeks until Battle of Fairy Tail

Daybreak Arc: Occurs 3 ½ weeks after intro (Lucy’s rent is almost due again)

Lullaby Arc: Directly after Daybreak Arc (Give ½ week allowance for both events)

Galuna Island Arc: 1 week after Lullaby (½ week allowance for event itself; technically, this begins almost directly after Natsu and Erza return from Era, since Mystogan shows up the same day, but the week given should account for all the little things and the extra stuff at the end of Lullaby)

Phantom Lord Arc: Directly after Galuna (Give half a week allowance for event itself)

Loke Arc: 3 weeks after Phantom Lord

Tower of Heaven Arc: Occurs half a week after Loke Arc and events begin the next night after check-in at resort (spent a whole day at the beach, first; check-in is always later in day), spend 2 weeks total at Akane

Battle of Fairy Tail Arc: October 15; 8 ½ weeks until Tenrou; About 3 weeks after return from Akane

Oracion Seis Arc: Maybe a week and a half after Welcome to Fairy Hills: Occurs a day or so after events with Nirvana, use this to lead up to next event.

Daphne Arc: A day or so after Fairy Hills, this and previous event even out at about half a week

Edolas Arc: Begins half a week after Daphne Arc, in Edolas for about half a week, so about 5 ½ weeks left until Tenrou island

Memory Days: Occurs half a week after return from Edolas

Tenrou Island Arc: December 15- Grimoire Heart, December 16- Acnologia; solo mission season begins right after Memory Days (next day, sooner than anime implies; headcanon is just about a full month)

X791

X791 Arc: Wiki says April, but at least 3 months before games (and July doesn’t count), so must be March

Key of the Starry Sky Arc: Begins about half a week after return and lasts about a week (smallest amount of time possible; mix with bits of arcs before and after to make transition more believable)

Grand Magic Games Arc: July 1-7 X791 (return from spirit world on the 25th/26th, depending on if return day is counted in days left)

The Exciting Ryuzetsu Land: Takes place the night right after Wendy and Chelia’s fight. (Note: Canon-compliance is not certain, yet.)

Eclipse Stellar Spirits Arc: Perhaps, a week or so after GMG; Stellar Spirits’ behavior is unlikely to be a delayed reaction. Fairy Penalty Game: Takes place at some point between these arcs, probably sooner rather than later.

Sun Village Arc: Maybe a couple of weeks after Eclipse Stellar Spirits Arc?

Natsu vs Mavis: Takes place at some point between these arcs because Warrod makes an appearance

Tartaros Arc: Natsu mentions in Alvarez Arc that he went through 10 months of training, which puts this at roughly 2 months after games.

X792

Avatar Arc: July 7- Natsu returns at the GMG, July 8- Natsu and Lucy search for guildmates

Dragon Cry: Apparently takes place at some point between these two arcs

Alvarez Empire Arc: Sometime in September (month was mentioned at some point during this arc in the anime; Note: Lori is with Natsu, Lucy, and Brandish when Dimaria shows up, which has her taken as well.)

100 Year Quest Arc: A year later, apparently?

[pabloattfield]

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[aelysalthea]

The Secret Lives of Neil Josten

Chapter 10: Andrew In Transit

Smoking was forbidden on the court. Supposedly.

As Andrew plucked the shortening stub from his lips, he could almost hear Wymack's long-suffering reprimand and see Dan's disappointment that so often involved a scowl and a sharp word. He could almost feel Kevin's radiating fury that bubbled and boiled until it spilled over the edge into a grumbling, "Have a little respect, would you?"

"For?" Andrew would always ask.

"For the court." At Andrew's usual lack of agreement and compliance, the muttered, "then at least for your lungs. You'll walk yourself into an early grave that way," always followed.

Andrew didn't know about that. He couldn't say that he cared all that much, although 'much' was slightly more than it had been in years gone by. Maybe. Possibly. Not much, and certainly not enough to inspire action, but yes. More. Regarding the burning cigarette between his fingers, the pale wisps coiling in artful tendrils before dissipating into nothingness, Andrew supposed he could admit that the suggestion was just a little more convincing than it had once been.

Stubbing the glowing end onto the goal post, Andrew tucked the remaining half of the cigarette into his pocket and released a final breath of smoke. Tipping his head back, he raised his gaze to the open ceiling, to the blackness stretching beyond the glowing radiance of the court. Barely more than a handful of the court's lights were on, but it was enough to swallow any hint of the stars that struggled to escape the night sky.

It was quiet. Resoundingly quiet in the stadium that was only ever thick with clamouring fans and wailing bodies or drained of any but the handful of a team that made up the Foxes, all intent and focused, training beneath the heavy gaze of their coach and captain. Or vice captain these days as Dan had begun to take a step back more and more deliberately. The season hadn't yet concluded, the Fox's games still a recurrent, manic smear upon a cluttered week, and Dan maintained her grounded stance at their head on each and every game night, but otherwise? Where it counted a little less?

Closing his eyes briefly, Andrew almost snorted aloud at the direction his thoughts had drifted. Not only to Neil – such a thing happened so often these days that he didn't even pretend to deny it to himself – but to exy. To the game. What had been and often still was a burden and leech upon his time and energy had dug in its roots and pervaded his system. Whether against his will or otherwise, Andrew hadn't a hope of stopping the progression anymore. To kill it and extract it would be to take out too much of his own flesh.

Andrew was stuck with it. For better or worse, he was infected. The symptoms of that infection were the only reason he could conjure as to what could possibly have urged him to seek the court that night.

For once, Kevin was preoccupied. It was a blue moon rarity that had him distracted on a week night, consumed with whatever else chewed through his time and forbade him from racing with obsessed footsteps from Fox Tower. Without Kevin the rest of the Foxes that attended in sporadic bursts of commitment took their leave. It was as though his temporary laxness afforded permission.

So why had Andrew come?

He didn't practice. If anyone asked, he'd blame his immobility on hatred of the sport, or his supposedly failing lungs, or the lack of Kevin's obsession cracking a whip in the air with such frustrating regularity that it was simply easier to abide his wishes half of the time. But it wasn't any of that. Not really. If anyone asked, Andrew wouldn't be able to tell them, just as he couldn't explain what had brought him there in the first place. It was why he spent hours – had it been hours? – seated in the square boundaries of the goalpost lost in thought and only shaken from those thoughts when the ash of his cigarette dropped a searing sprinkle of onto his skin.

Lowering his gaze from the empty sky, Andrew rubbed absently at lingering prickle of the burn. It barely hurt, and the sting had long since faded. What remained instead was the dust of ash scattered around him in a coating thin enough that none but another goalie would notice the mess. With a half-hearted swipe of his hand, Andrew scattered the specks, smearing them across the floor into thinner streaks, before hauling himself to his feet.

He should probably return. There was no obligation to, but yes, he should return – to the Tower, to his family, to his bed. No obligation from anyone but himself, and it was that which had Andrew turning towards the court door and starting a slow, wandering exit. He idly pulled his phone from his pocket and was faintly surprised when the glowing screen indicated the time inching towards pre-dawn.

Not that it really mattered. Andrew's hours lost in thought had been as restful as sleep was most nights. What was of greater relevance was that Neil had accompanied him and, being the person he was, Neil wouldn't have left had it killed him to tay.

It didn't surprise Andrew when he saw him in the stands. It didn't surprise him that he would decide to stay, that he would even if had Andrew only denied the necessity of his presence. Andrew had become almost used to it, and that acceptance was more curious than any other consideration on the matter. Or it was until, pausing in the doorway and raising his gaze to scan the rows of orange, Andrew caught sight of where Neil sat.

Or lay, as was more accurate. Wedged. Curled, even, because there was no way that a fully-grown man could do anything otherwise in the stadium seats. At the front row, the coach and players row positioned directly behind the court door, Neil was folded upon himself in a position that couldn't have been comfortable even had he been packed in with bubble wrap. A leg was hooked over the metal arm of the seat, the other thrust underneath it and twisted to dangle off the edge at an angle uncomfortable to even look at. His arms were just as contorted, woven into a nest around his head and neck where he's pillowed himself on one arm, his back hunched and tucked in upon himself. It took Andrew a moment to realise that his own jacket had been appropriated as feeble padding for Neil's head, but even that slight allowance wouldn't have made him comfortable. Not in the least.

Yet he was asleep. Fast asleep and bearing the kind of smooth abandon in his expression that bespoke a long-term commitment to his state of unconsciousness.

Easing the heavy door closed behind him, Andrew paused at the end of Neil's row. He regarded him, contemplated, and raised a foot to nudge Neil awake. Only to pause again with his shoe barely an inch or two off the ground. Considering, he eyed Neil in his twisted sleep and slowly lowered his foot once more.

Neil could sleep anywhere; that much Andrew had discovered on multiple occasions. The library, sprawled across a table. The poor excuse for a couch that the girls kept despite it feeling as rock hard as a church pew. The locker room bench for a brief cat nap, the back of a classroom despite the chatter, an aeroplane with the engine blaring and the threat of hundreds of miles beneath them. Andrew's bed too, as Andrew found himself sharing more often than not to only rare a complaint. Any and all would find Neil taking the opportunity should it present itself, and each instance would be a quick descent into sleep and an equally fast return with the snap of a pair of fingers.

Andrew understood that. The jerk of wakefulness, the ability – no, the need to be aware even during sleep and to alert himself to anything and everything of threat or importance in an instant. The ability to override weariness and the blessing of mindless oblivion was a lifesaver. Whether it was the muffled tread of an unshod foot outside his door or the murmured askance of a cousin, a brother, from a hand's breadth away, Andrew would and could awaken when he needed to. Nothing, not even desperate exhaustion, would override such instinctive necessity.

Neil was the same. He would take any opportunity to sleep, and at the whisper of his name would wake him. Too aware, Andrew would call him, if he didn't relate so completely. Too aware by half.

As such, it was always something of a fascination to Andrew when he caught him in the brief moments of uninterrupted stasis. It was in those few moments, seconds or minutes of even hours where it wasn't a deliberate choice but happenstance, that Neil lowered the guards placed upon his expression. That the reigning in of his tongue, kept on a leash only with reluctance, was loose and unresisting and his jaw slackened. Fascinating… and enough that Andrew's disgruntlement at lingering even later at the court than they already were was effectively vanquished.

Reaching a hand towards Neil, he couldn't catch himself before his fingers caught in the curl on Neil's forehead, flicking it aside. His clasp lingered for a moment, just a moment coiled in hair as a flicker of a frown crossed Neil's brow, before he let it go. As he did, Neil twitched slightly, his chin tucking slightly as he hunched further upon himself.

Andrew shoved his wayward hand into his pocket before it could undermine him again, but he didn't depart the scene. He didn't turn on his heel and stalk towards the locker room, cursing himself for taking an opportunity that presented itself. Stepping silently up the stairs, he dropped into the row above Neil's and into a slouch. For a moment, shifting and adjusting to get comfortable, Andrew gazed upon Neil in his awkward recline, the curl of his eyelashes and the faint downturn of his lips, before his eyes drifted briefly back to the court.

The wide, empty court. The goals that were his. There was Renee too of course, but they were his. And for the moment, no one else would touch them. Not even with their eyes.

Gaze shifting back to Neil as he shifted, rolling slightly in Andrew's direction as though he felt his presence, Andrew snorted. He wasn't sure if his self-deprecation was for his attention to Neil, to the court, or because of the faint yet noticeable twinge in his chest that he couldn't quite pinpoint the nature of. Maybe it was for all three.

With a shake of his head, Andrew closed his eyes. It was uncomfortable in the seat, so uncomfortable that he doubted he'd be able to sleep himself, but it wasn't worth moving. Not worth waking Neil or leaving the court. For the moment, Andrew would be content.

***

When Neil woke, it was to the protestation of a twinge in his neck and an accompanying grumble of his back as he rolled over. Further aches followed, and as Neil retrieved his legs from where they were stretched, shuffling upright and propping his arms behind him, he scratched his memories for the where and the why. Somewhere uncomfortable, certainly. Uncomfortable, and definitely not a bed. Neil had slept on too many not-beds to be unable to recognise the rude awakening in an instant.

Blinking, squinting, he peered up at the sky overhead. The unfiltered sky, with a grey dawn shining feeble luminescence upon him. Raising a hand to his neck, he glanced around himself and felt a moment of surprise when he took in the courts.

The empty courts. The stretch of alternating orange and white seats. The plexiglass, dull in the grey morning light, the court matte rather than shiny, and the door firmly shut just as Wymack had left it the previous evening when they'd finished practice. Just as Andrew had left it when he'd descended to the court alone, tugging it closed behind him to slouch towards the goals as though he weren't stepping along the well-worn path of his own volition for the first time.

A part of Neil still couldn't believe Andrew had done it. He'd known he would eventually because even Andrew couldn't resist the inevitable, but a part of him had been sceptical. A larger part than he'd anticipated, evidently. Hands dropping into his lap, Neil glanced around himself in search. He wouldn't have been surprised had Andrew left him behind when he'd finished whatever he'd been doing, just as he wouldn't have been surprised to be kicked awake by a silent, tired foot attached to a silent, tired body that complained of a need to leave the court behind them.

A glance behind him found neither of those eventualities.

Andrew was seated in the row directly above Neil's. Seated upright only, that was, and slouched with discomfort in every line of his body. Even his face bore a disgruntled frown; not angry but clearly dissatisfied, as if even his unconscious body wanted the world to know just how disappointed it was in its lack of accommodation for his sleeping arrangement. His arms were folded across his chest, his chin tucked, and his legs kicked before his and crossed at the heels, stretched towards but not quite touching the back of Neil's chair.

It was enough to almost make Neil smile. Not because of Andrew's obvious discomfort but because he was there at all. Sometimes Neil still didn't expect it.

Slinging an arm across the back of his chair, his chin resting on top of it, Neil folded his knees on the hard plastic seat beneath him. Regarding up at Andrew, he allowed himself to simply stare for a time. Stare for a long time, even. With morning light filtering through the open ceiling, grey dawn fading to be replaced by a warm glow, Andrew's hair was cast into a faintly glowing crown atop his head. The shadows were accentuated in the lines of his face, the finer hairs of his eyebrows made nearly invisible, and the incessant downturned tug of his lips softened just slightly.

Morning was infamous for being unforgiving of the previous night's secrets, but sometimes Neil didn't mind it all that much.

How long he sat in still, silent watch Neil didn't know. How long he would have continued to sit was just as unknown; there was nowhere Neil needed to be, nothing that would necessitate Andrew's awakening, and he had no particular desire to leave the stadium. His seat wasn't the most comfortable he'd ever sat in but it was far from being the worst. He'd slept on little more than cement floor and a jacket folded into a pillow before, had spent nights so uncomfortable that he couldn't sleep at all. A plastic chair and cold metal arms inhibiting any attempts at properly stretching out were nothing.

Neil could have remained as he was but others clearly had different plans for the morning.

His phone buzzed, a low hum from his bag three seats down. Nicky, Neil would guess, or possibly even Kevin wondering at their absence. It was barely audible, but Neil glanced sidelong immediately and wasn't surprised when Andrew shifted in his sleep. He could endure Wymack's rousing speeches or an hours-long bus ride, but in the silence of the stands and empty stadium any sound was an alarm.

Neil understood that too. There were certain circumstances, certain triggers, that he would always be aware of.

Andrew's stirring wasn't a snap to attention. Not that morning and not when it wasn't necessary. As Neil watched, Andrew's eyes opened a fraction and, like a ripple effect, his usual wakeful alertness settled with a hint of tension upon his shoulders. Not an angry or agitated or aggressive tension, but sharp and unwavering nonetheless. He eased into awareness with slow blinks, gaze shifting towards Neil.

Neil blinked a silent greeting in return. For a moment, Andrew didn't reply. Then he straightened in his seat.

"You're awake."

Neil nodded slightly.

"I didn't notice."

Neil hitched a shoulder. It was slightly uncomfortable in his position, but he wasn't yet inclined to break the quiet that was empty of all but Andrew's low murmur.

"You do that," Andrew said slowly. "Sometimes."

There was a question beneath his words. A question that it didn't take Neil long to unravel. Oh. That. "I didn't expect it to be a surprise at this point that I can, in fact, be quiet."

Andrew grunted. He shifted slightly, and for a moment Neil thought he might rise, might make for the exit in a belated attempt to clear the scene following what was already imprinted in Neil's memory with unerring permanency. But he didn't. Instead, after a moment of straightening, the effort seemed to be too much for him and he flopped sideways, all but draping himself over the arm of his chair.

"Tired?" Neil guessed.

"What happened to your capacity for silence?"

"Just because I can be quiet doesn't mean I have to be."

Andrew frowned but there was no heat to the expression. From his awkward recline, he reached a single hand towards Neil and poised it just before his lips. Neil waited. He didn't move as Andrew's finger pressed gently, rested for a moment, then trailed down to his chin. Not as his hand rose slightly up his cheek, trailing across and feather light across his skin, and pausing at the corner of his eye. Neil didn't move but to close his eyes as Andrew's raised hand hung, unmoving, fingers resting almost gently.

It wasn't much. Wasn't anything special. But it felt… nice.

Neil could have remained suspended in stillness for the rest of the morning – for longer, even – and would have beyond Andrew finally lowering his hand to rest atop Neil's propped arm. His fingers were so close Neil could feel the warmth of them on the side of his face.

"You're tired," Andrew said at length. His voice was a low murmur.

"Not really," Neil replied.

"You're lying."

With only a single eye cracked open, Andrew regarded Neil sidelong. If anything, he looked to be the more tired of the two of them. Even bathed in increasingly bright morning light, awash with golden warmth, shadows hung beneath his eyes. Neil had long ago suspected they were permanent.

"Minimal sleep isn't impossible to work with," Neil said.

"I know," Andrew said, because he did. Of course he did.

"I'd almost be willing to bet that I got more than you did last night."

"That wouldn't be hard."

Neil tipped his head into Andrew's hand where it curled along his face. "Hm?"

Andrew gestured with his other in a vague wave at the seats. "Your choice of sleeping quarters is dismal."

"You didn't have to sleep here."

"Neither did you."

"You could have woken me up."

Andrew flicked Neil's cheek, a reprimand that felt like a kindness for the words it left unsaid. The ensuing touches, gentle prods so light they were barely felt, only added to the impression.

"I've slept on worse," Neil said.

"I know," Andrew replied.

"I'm sure you have too."

"The difference is that I have no interest in pursuing the least comfortable bed possible." A pause and then, "what was the worst?"

Neil almost smiled again. It was a rare moment that Andrew asked a question with so little prompting. With such careless curiosity. Once, Neil knew he wouldn't have understood such carelessness for the interest that it was. "The worst?"

"Mm."

Neil considered, resting his head a little more against Andrew's hand as he let his gaze drift. "The worst," he said slowly. "Probably a bathroom cabinet."

Andrew's fingers stilled where they had been prodding. "When?"

"A long time ago."

"Baltimore?"

Neil nodded. "Not my fondest memory."

"Did you actually sleep?"

"Maybe. I think I got a few minutes here and there. The water pipe next to me was too hot to be comfortable though. Fall asleep against it and you'd end up burning yourself."

Andrew's hand shifted, fingers pressing lightly on said elbow. The memory had long ago faded but it never left Neil completely. "Mom put me in there," he said. "My father was on a rampage. A mole, I think it was, but I can't be sure. He tended to do that."

Andrew didn't speak.

"You get used to it after a while. Making do with wherever you can close your eyes."

Nothing.

"You're the same."

Andrew blinked slowly, his gaze meeting Neil's. There was silent acknowledgement in his stare, the kind that Neil had seen countless times and recognised for what it was. That their pasts weren't the same but that they were reflective. That they didn't have identical experiences, but they could understand at least in part because pain was relative.

Neil wasn't glad for that fact. He saw red when he thought of both of their pasts, though less commonly his own. But there was that much at least, and even begrudging, he accepted their common ground. He let the past lay untouched because it was simpler and easier that way. That, and –

"You came to the court."

Neil had known he was playing with fire by verbalising it, but he still could have laughed as Andrew's eyes narrowed. He didn't, because Andrew's hand remained where it was rested against his cheek. It still remained as Neil turned his head and, just briefly, just lightly, pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"It wasn't for you," Andrew said.

"I know."

"Don't expect anything to come of it."

"I won't."

"And if you fall to sleep here again, I'll leave you."

Neil didn't point out the juxtaposition of Andrew's words. He wouldn't tempt fate in this instance. Not when it was something that truly mattered and could risk overstepping the distance that Andrew had come. Instead, he tucked his knees a little more comfortably beneath him and held his tongue.

And he smiled. He knew Andrew didn't need words to know what his actions meant. Lying as he was, staring as he was, even if he didn't smile in return, he didn't call Neil out on his unspoken delight. He didn't withdraw his hand or roll away from him, and it spoke more words than he would ever utter aloud. More than Neil could or would say too.

There were certain things, certain moments, and certain gestures that meant far more than words. Andrew had his own language, and it was one that Neil found himself understanding perfectly.

***

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story, or even just this particular chapter if that’s all you’ve read. But yeah, this is the final chapter. I could have written about my headcanons forever but we’ve got to stop somewhere, right? I’d love to hear your thoughts and your ow headcanons. Feel free to pop over to my AO3 if you’ve got a second! I’m a sucker for fandom exchange XD

[valkyrieofthehighfae]

Chapter 8

Word Count: 3.6k Join my taglist here :) 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, & 7

By the time I got to Teller-Morrow, I was a little calmer, but my hands still shook a bit and I’d made sure to keep an eye out just in case she had me tailed. Juice met up with me in the parking lot, hurrying me back to the clubhouse so we could sit down and talk.

“What happened?”

“She dropped in and started asking me about my personal life, brought up my scars, mentioned how it was interesting that she couldn’t find any info on me at all, then asked if I knew about any illegal activities you or the rest of the club were up to.”

“What’d you tell her?” He was staring intensely at me, lips pressed into a thin line while his brow furrowed a little.

“The truth: as far as I knew, you and the others are just mechanics and motorcycle enthusiasts.” It was true; Juice hadn’t mentioned anything he did for the club and didn’t mention anything beyond anything relevant like helping Gemma with fundraisers or stuff like that. If they were doing illegal shit, I didn’t know and I didn’t want to know. “We keep that shit separated from home. Unless it somehow involves me directly, like my life is in danger or your life is in danger or something, I don’t want to know. I’m perfectly fine being kept in the dark.” I rubbed my face with my hands, tired as all hell.

“You should get a room at Ivy’s hotel. I want you somewhere protected from Stahl. If that bitch harrasses you again, she’s not gonna like what’s gonna happen to her.” Juice growled, his fierceness endearing if not a touch scary.

“I’ll be fine at home, I’m not going into hiding.” I protested, getting up to follow him over to the bar, resting a hand on his shoulder. “She thinks she can intimidate me into talking about shit that I don’t know about. She’s bluffing and I’m not scared of her.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his back with a soft sigh.

“Humor me, please? Just for now, it’s not forever. I just want to make sure that you’re safe and protected. It’s bad enough that that Ares fuck was trying to get Rusalka to turn on you, I don’t need Stahl hauling you in for something stupid.”

“Fine, but only because I don’t want you to worry. I’ll go home and get my stuff packed up.” I relented. I didn’t want to stay at the hotel, but if it gave him peace of mind, then I’d suck it up and do it. “I’m doing this on one condition though: you come with me. We can treat it like a vacation or something.” If I had to hide out, then he was coming with me.

“Yeah, alright, that’s fair. Let me let Clay know what’s goin’ on and then we’ll go pack our shit up and head over to Ivy’s.”

“I have to get over there now, we’re supposed to be having a meeting on what to do about Ares lurking around and what to do about Helena trying to take control of the Faelands. We’ll pack later after I deal with all of this mess,” I popped up to my feet, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Now? C’mon babe, wait just a minute, you just got here.” Juice caught my hand in his, pulling me down into his lap with a playful grin.

“Juan Carlos Ortiz, I have to go! I’m going to be late and I am never late for anything!” I giggled as he pressed soft kisses along my jaw and neck, squirming in his grasp when he reached a sensitive spot on my neck. “Stop it, that tickles!” I was full on laughing now, trying to move so he couldn’t access my ticklish spot, wiggling in his grasp to try and get free.

“I dunno babe, it’s kinda cute seeing you like this,” He teased me, but quit trying to tickle me all the same. “Go on, I’ll meet you over at Ivy’s later.”

“See you in a while love.” I was breathless from laughing so hard, tendrils of silvery hair that had come free of my braid falling into my face when I leaned in to kiss him. I could feel his hand come up to cup my face, rough fingers stroking over my cheekbone tenderly as he returned the kiss, resting his forehead against mine when we came up for air.

“Be safe, okay? Don’t let Stahl get a rise out of you.”

~*~*~

I could tell someone was tailing me towards Ivy’s, the creepy black van not exactly blending in well with the rest of the cars going by as I walked to the hotel. I wasn’t willing to risk exposing our people so I found myself ducking into an alleyway when a large truck blocked the van’s view, taking a back way to the hotel to avoid any problems. This bitch was absolutely relentless in trying to get information, and while I found her tenacity somewhat admirable, I was getting highly agitated that she was focusing that tenacity on us. Whatever her hard on for Juice and the others was, it was quickly becoming a thorn in my side. I already had enough on my plate without this being added to it.

I don’t know what the hell Juice is involved in, but damn if it isn’t a lot of trouble. I peered out around a corner, looking both ways to make sure I’d lost my tail, and went into the hotel quickly, breathing a silent sigh of relief as I leaned back against the doors.

“Hey, you must be Danica. The boss is out at the pool with Ashlyn, they’re waiting on the other two to get here.” A young gargoyle greeted me from the front desk, a grin lighting up his face as he jerked a clawed thumb back towards the twin frosted glass doors to the left of the desk.

“Awesome, thanks!” I raised a hand in a slight wave, striding towards the doors and heading out to the really fancy looking pool where Ivy and Ashlyn were talking quietly. “We have a problem. A big one.” I kicked my shoes off, setting them off to the side so I could dip my feet into the pool, pleased by the comfortable temperature of the water.

“What’s going on? Is it Keres? Did she betray us already?” Ashlyn was frowning, worried at the thought of having to potentially deal with Keres turning us into her mother.

“No, no I don’t think so. This is about that ATF agent, June Stahl. Y’know how she’s been poking around trying to find some sort of dirt on the guys and the rest of the club? Well now she’s looking into us. Er… okay, maybe not you Ashlyn since I don’t think anyone’s seen you and your soulmate together out in public before. It’s Happy right?” I glanced her way, trying to recall her soulmate’s name. I’d only ever heard his name a couple of times from Juice, but hadn’t met him yet.

“We haven’t really known each other long. It’s only been a couple weeks. And even then, we’re not together in public. I don’t think they’d have any proof of me even existing.” Ashlyn nodded, biting her lip. She was clearly thinking about this fairly hard, her brow creasing slightly and a frown was tugging at her lips.

“She came by Juice’s place this morning asking a bunch of questions. And she’s been actively trying to dig into who we are, like doing actual background checks.” I glanced over to Ivy since she had been seen with Kip, the prospect. “Of course now she’s even more suspicious because we don’t have anything: no ID, no birth certificates, not one thing. I’m worried we’re going to have our world exposed to the human world.” And now we reached the crux of the situation: our potential exposure to the human world beyond what we’ve already dealt with. It was one thing to show our true selves to our mates, it was an entirely different matter for our world to be exposed to all of humanity.

“Fuck. No wonder Kip’s been asking me to stay here. He’s been acting strange lately and I couldn’t figure it out, but this explains so much.” Ivy’s eyes went wide with the realization of why Kip had been so overprotective lately. It had explained why Juice had been so much more protective lately than usual, too.

“What do we do? How do we handle this? We can’t risk our world being brought into light, the humans would panic. We got lucky that our soulmates didn’t freak out about us.” Ashlyn was wringing her hands together as she spoke, the same anxiousness she displayed welling up in the pit of my stomach. Humans didn’t even like different humans, if they knew about us? It would be chaos waiting to happen. Oh sure, some would be into the idea of Fae existing, but others would call us monsters, want us wiped off the planet, and it would be a war they wouldn’t win.

“Oh, no, Chibs totally freaked out. He waited until he was out of earshot of Rusalka, but he definitely freaked. He’s from Scotland and lived in Ireland, the stories they have about us? I mean, okay, not totally wrong, but definitely not one hundred percent accurate either.” I grinned, hoping to ease some tension by joking around with Chibs’ reaction according to Juice. “But you’re right, Ashlyn. I’m not sure we’d receive a warm welcome by the people here, especially if they knew about the Blood Court and the Court of Bones.” We traded knowing looks, Ivy agreeing softly with me about those two abominations. Despite what Nyx had said, I still didn’t like or trust Keres. Something just seemed off about this whole thing with her and I didn’t trust it one bit.

“Ivy, I’m gonna need to get a room. Juice wants me hidden away here just in case Stahl tries to pull some shady shit. We need to lay low until all of this blows over.” I continued on, thanking her when she nodded in agreeance.

“Shit. Here we go.” Ashlyn murmured, her gaze trained on something over my shoulder. Turning, I saw Keres and Rusalka walking our way, the two of them looking less than thrilled. They were talking quietly amongst themselves, but I could tell whatever they were talking about had them as agitated, if not more, than I was.

“Have you guys been questioned by this ATF agent yet?” Keres growled, her crimson eyes blazing with rage. Oh she’d definitely had a run in with Stahl then and it clearly went about as well as my own encounter with her had.

“Yup. Just had an encounter with her this morning. I take it by that shining attitude of yours, you met her too.” I moved over so she could sit down as well and so I could put some space between the Blood Fae and myself. I didn’t want to be this close to her; I was still skeptical of her intentions and didn’t want to be tainted by her evil.

“She reminds me of my mother. Do you have any idea how unsettling that is to see in a human?” Keres shuddered at the mention of her mother, making a face. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her exaggerated reaction to the comparison between the two women, scoffing slightly. Who did she think she was fooling?

“Oh? You mean that’s not comforting to you?” I shot back, snorting derisively, sneering at the Blood Fae in disgust.

“No. It’s not. Are we gonna have a problem? If you’ve got something to say to me, I suggest you do it.” Keres snapped back with a vicious snarl on the tail end of her words. I could see Ivy back up quickly out of the corner of my eyes as we got to our feet. I was ready to throw down with Keres, wanting a little blood for the blood her people spilled. Keres had squared up as well, fists raised in preparation to swing.

“I’ve got a lot to say actually. What sort of game are you playin’ at here, Blood Court? Your kind doesn’t just turn traitor at the drop of a hat, so what’s the deal? Did mommy make you angry so you decided to run off in a tantrum?” I hissed out, taking up a fighting stance as well, watching her with deadly intent. Keres swore, cocking her arm back, and struck me in the jaw with her clenched fist, the taste of blood filling my mouth as my inner cheek and lip split wide open. I spat blood, watching the silvery gold liquid spatter across the concrete near the pool, and tackled Keres to the ground. We scrabbled for purchase, talons digging into exposed skin, Ivy screaming while Rusalka laughed her ass off.

“I can’t see what’s happening, but it sounds hilarious!” She cackled like a mad woman from where she perched herself on one of the lounge chairs. I ignored the Bone Fae, more focused on raking my talons across Keres’ face.

“I’m not playing at anything! I didn’t agree with the choice that was made to attack your people! Hell I even sent my friend Kiril to try and save your people!” Keres bellowed in my ear, grabbing onto my arm and yanking hard to pull it away from her neck. I snarled viciously in response and bit into her shoulder, digging my fangs in deeply, the sour taste of her blood mingling with mine, but I refused to let up. Fingers gripped my hair, yanking back hard to dislodge me, a foot making impact with my gut. The force of the kick had me flying back into some of the furniture and Keres was on me in an instant, her fists connecting with my face, chest, and gut.

“Hey! Break it up!” A masculine voice broke through our screeching and snarls.

“Shit!” Juice’s voice cut through the blood haze as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me away from Keres, holding tightly to my waist as I struggled in his grasp, hissing at Keres who had been hauled back by a very tall, lumberjack looking man who must have been her mate.

“What is going on?” Nyx had pushed her way through the others, disbelief written all over her face as she looked between the two of us, covered in blood and a right mess.

“She started it.” Keres ground out, spitting black blood from where I managed to clock her in the mouth. Nyx was frowning deeply, her brow furrowing in frustration and let out an exasperated snarl.

“You have got to be kidding me. What did we talk about already, Danica? Keres is on our side!”

“I don’t buy it! Watch, this is all just for show. Now that we’re all here, she’s going to find a way to bring in her assassins and deal with us right here and now.” I spat, gripping onto Juice’s arms tightly. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of my neck, one hand moving carefully to rub my back gently, whispering sweet words to try and calm me down.

“Easy babe, c’mon take it down a notch. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmured softly, kissing along my ear tenderly.

“We have bigger problems right now! Settle your issues later, today isn’t the day for this. And Natalya, egging them on certainly doesn’t help. Ashlyn’s the only one here who hasn’t been interrogated by Agent Stahl since she and Happy haven’t been seen together in public. The rest of us are in big trouble if she keeps pursuing this, our people could be dragged into the light, shown that we’re not just stories, myths, made up monsters to keep children in line.” Nyx barked, her usual cool demeanor cracking slightly to reveal a fiery anger brewing just under the surface. It was eerie to see her look so calm and yet so furious all at once, her sharp features seeming sharper than normal as she glared at Keres and I.

“Fine, okay, whatever.” I grumbled, pushing away from Juice to walk off a few feet away, hissing softly as he immediately came after me, inspecting the damage to my face.

“She got you good, babe. That lip of yours doesn’t look good.” He very carefully ran his thumb over my swollen lip, absently licking the blood off as he studied me with a slight frown.

“You want to beat each other senseless? Fine, you’ll have your time. Right now though, I need you two to act like the royalty that you are and not some common Fae fighting for scraps. The only way we are going to survive all of this is by working together. Something big is coming and if we don’t get ahead of whatever it is, we are all going to be pulled under and crushed.” Nyx was still berating us, and I found I couldn’t meet her harsh gaze, keeping my eyes averted, my cheeks and ears burning from shame. A beat of silence passed, no one saying a word, until Happy scooped Ashlyn up to take her back to her hotel room, her mermaid tail glittering in the sunlight as he carried her past us, grinning at the wolf whistles from the guys. That moment of relaxation seemed to break everyone up, Keres and her mate going up to the room she presumably had here, Rusalka and Chibs going in as well, the Bone Court Fae laughing loudly at something he said to her, I got to my feet to go in as well, Juice right on my heels.

“Come here baby, let me get a better look at you,” He was gentle as he pulled me to a stop, carefully touching my face with a frown. “Shit you really got the hell knocked out of you. Might need to start calling you my little hellcat.” He teased me softly, smiling just a little.

“Bite me, my love.” I muttered with a huff of annoyance.

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned in to kiss me softly before lifting his hand up, a soft, blue glow coming from the palm of his hand. “Hold still, okay?”

I stood still as he carefully ran his hand over my injuries, focusing entirely on healing the wounds, humming softly under his breath as he worked. The warmth of the healing magic knit itself into my skin, leaving my mouth tingling with the magic and I smiled as soon as it was over. He’d gotten so good at this so quickly, I was impressed.

“Thank you love. You didn’t need to do that, it was fine.” I leaned in to hug him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek to his chest, breathing in his scent, finding it soothing.

“You doing okay? You two were goin’ at it pretty hard and she really landed some good shots.” He’d put a finger under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his worried gaze.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I don’t regret what I did, but I do regret letting my temper get the better of me. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m making questionable choices left and right lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Juan.” I was frustrated with myself for lashing out, but just seeing her face was enough to set me off. I wasn’t normally violent or angry like this and everything just hurt when I saw her.

“Nothing is wrong with you. You’re grieving, Dani. You lost your home, most of your people, you almost lost me… It’s a lot to put on someone. You don’t have to do this alone, let me help.” Juice pulled me back into a tight grip, one hand stroking my back while the other ran through my hair, tender and caring as could be. I pressed my face into his neck, my fingers gripping the back of his cut, bunching up the leather and the soft cotton shirt beneath it. I didn’t want this moment to come to an end, my heart swelling with a joy I’d never known before as we held each other, quietly appreciating one another’s presence.

“It’s my burden to bear. I’ve done enough to you, I can’t put anymore on your shoulders.” The protest was weaker than I’d meant for it to be, his strength and kindness nearly bringing me to my knees.

“Bullshit, you saved me by performing that ritual. So what if I’m Fae now? You did what you had to do and I’m glad you did. We’re a team, Danica. I’m here to help shoulder your burdens and do whatever I can to lighten the load. Just say the word and I’m there baby.” His hands went from my hair and back, to my face where he gently peppered me with kisses, making me laugh softly.

“I love you.” I leaned in to kiss him when someone cleared their throat and we jumped apart quickly, a scowl darkening my face when I spotted Keres strolling our way with a nasty smile on her face. Juice quickly traced the sigil to renew his glamour on his arm as surreptitiously as possible as the Blood Fae approached us. “How long have you been there?” I demanded hotly, bristling at the intrusion on our moment.

“Not long at all. Why? Did I interrupt something?” Her grin only got wider at my reaction.

“No,” I growled icily, turning to Juice with a softer look. “I’ll see you after the meeting, okay babe?” I stood on tiptoes to plant a quick kiss to his lips and stalked off to the board room where we were supposed to be meeting up to discuss our options.

“Wait a second,” Keres grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to stop and face her. “I know you made Juice a High Fae. How’d you do it?”

[qqueenofhades]

Do you think society as a whole understands and values history? I don’t think they do. And I don’t understand why.

HoooooWEEEEEE, anon. What follows is a good old Hilary History Rant ™, but let me hasten to assure you that none of it is directed at you. It just means that this is a topic on which I have many feelings, and a lot of frustration, and it gets at the heart of many things which are wrong with our society, and the way in which I try to deal with this as an academic and a teacher. So…. yeah.

In short: you’re absolutely right. Society as a whole could give exactly dick about understanding and valuing history, especially right now. Though let me rephrase that: they could give exactly dick about understanding and valuing any history that does not reinforce and pander to their preferred worldview, belief system, or conception of reality. The human race has always had an amazing ability to not give a shit about huge problems as long as they won’t kill us right now (see: climate change) and in one sense, that has allowed us to survive and evolve and become an advanced species. You have to compartmentalize and solve one problem at a time rather than get stuck in abstracts, so in that way, it is a positive trait. However, we are faced with a 21st century where the planet is actively burning alive, late-stage capitalism has become so functionally embedded in every facet of our society that our public values, civic religion, and moral compass (or lack thereof) is structured around consumerism and who it benefits (the 1% of billionaire CEOs), and any comfortable myths of historical progress have been blown apart by the worldwide backslide into right-wing authoritarianism, xenophobia, nationalism, racism, and other such things. In a way, this was a reaction to 9/11, which changed the complacent late-20th century mindset of the West in ways that we really cannot fathom or overstate. But it’s also a clarion call that something is very, very wrong here, and the structural and systemic explanations that historians provide for these kinds of events are never what anyone wants to hear.

Think about it this way. The world is currently, objectively speaking, producing more material resources, wealth, food, etc than at any point before, thanks to the effects of globalism, the industrial and information revolutions, mass mechanizing, and so on. There really isn’t a “shortage” of things. Except for the fact that the distribution of these resources is so insanely unequal, and wildly disproportionate amounts of wealth have been concentrated in a few private hands, which then use the law (and the law is a tool of the powerful to protect power) to make sure that it’s never redistributed. This is why Reaganism and “supply-side”, aka “trickle-down” economics, is such bullshit: it presupposes that billionaires will, if you enable them to make as many billions as possible without regulation, altruistically sow that largess among the working class. This never happens, because obviously. (Sidenote: remember those extravagant pledges of billions of euros to repair Notre Dame from like 3 or 4 French billionaires? Apparently they have paid… exactly not one cent toward renovations, and the money has come instead from the Friends of Notre Dame funded by private individuals. Yep, not even for the goddamn cause célèbre of the “we don’t give a shit about history” architectural casualties could they actually pay up. Eat! The! Rich!…. anyway.)

However, the fact is that you need to produce narratives to justify this kind of exploitation and inequality, and make them convincing enough that the people who are being fucked over will actively repeat and promote these narratives and be fiercely vested in their protection. Think of the way white American working-class voters will happily blame minorities, immigrants, Non-Murkan People, etc for their struggles, rather than the fact of said rampant economic cronyism and oligarchy. These working-class voters will love the politicians who give them someone to blame (see: Trump), especially when that someone is an Other around whom collective systems of discrimination and oppression have historically operated. Women, people of color, religious minorities/non-Western religions, LGBT people, immigrants, etc, etc…. all these have historically not had such a great time in the capitalist Christian West, which is the predominant paradigm organizing society today. You can’t understand why society doesn’t value history until you realize that the people who benefit from this system aren’t keen on having its flaws pointed out. They don’t want the masses to have a historical education if that historical education is going to actually be used. They would rather teach them the simplistic rah-rah quasi-fictional narrative of the past that makes everyone feel good, and call it a day. 

The classic liberal belief has always been that if you can just teach someone that their facts are wrong, or supply them with better facts, they’ll change their mind. This is not how it works and never has, and that is why in an age with, again, more knowledge of science than ever before and the collected wisdom of humanity available via your smartphone, we have substantial portions of people who believe that vaccines are evil, the Earth is flat, and climate change (and 87 million other things) are fake and/or government conspiracies. As a medievalist, I get really tetchy when the idiocy of modern people is blamed on the stereotypical “Dark Ages!” medieval era (I have written many posts ranting about that, so we’ll keep it to a minimum here), or when everything bad, backward, or wrong is considered to be “medieval” in nature. Trust me, on several things, they were doing a lot better than we are. Other things are not nearly as wildly caricatured as they have been made out to be. Because once again, history is complicated and people are flawed in any era, do good and bad things, but that isn’t as useful as a narrative that flattens out into simplistic black and white.

Basically, people don’t want their identities, comfortable notions, and other ideas about the past challenged, especially since that is directly relevant to how they perceive themselves (and everyone else) in the present. The thing about history, obviously, is that it’s past, it’s done, and until we invent a time machine, which pray God we never fucking do, within a few generations, the entire population of the earth has been replaced. That means it’s awfully fragile as a concept. Before the modern era and the invention of technology and the countless mediums (book, TV, radio, newspaper, internet, etc etc) that serve as sources, it’s only available in a relatively limited corpus of documents. History does not speak for itself. That’s where you get into historiography, or writing history. Even if you have a book or document that serves as a primary source material, you have to do a shit-ton of things with it to turn it into recognizable scholarship. You have to learn the language it’s in. You have to understand the context in which it was produced. You have to figure out what it ignores, forgets, omits, or simply does not know as well as what it does, and recognize it as a limited text produced from a certain perspective or for a social reason that may or may not be explicitly articulated. The training of a historian is to teach you how to do this accurately and more or less fairly, but that is up to the personal ethic of the historian to ensure. When you’re reading a history book, you’re not reading an unmediated, Pure, This Was Definitely How Things Happened The End information download. You are reading something by someone who has made their best guess and has been equipped with the interpretive tools to be reasonably confident in their analysis, but sometimes just doesn’t know, sometimes has an agenda in pushing one opinion over another, or anything else.

History, in other words, is a system of flawed and self-serving collective memory, and power wants only the memory that ensures its survival and replication. You’ve heard of the “history is written by the winners” quote, which basically encapsulates the fact that what we learn and what we take as fact is largely or entirely structured by the narrative of those who can control it. If you’ve heard of the 1970s French philosopher Michel Foucault, his work is basically foundational in understanding how power produces knowledge in each era (what he calls epistemes) and the way in which historical “fact” is subject to the needs of these eras. Foucault has a lot of critics and his work particularly in the history of sexuality has now become dated (plus he can be a slog to read), but I do suggest familiarizing yourself with some of his ideas. 

This is also present in the constant refrain heard by anybody who has ever studied the arts and humanities: “oh, don’t do liberal arts, you’ll never get a job, study something worthwhile,” etc. It’s funny how the “worthwhile” subjects always seem to be science and engineering/software/anything that can support the capitalist military industrial complex, while science is otherwise completely useless to them. It’s also always funny how the humanities are relentlessly de- or under- funded. By labeling these subjects as “worthless,” when they often focus on deep investigation of varied topics, independent critical thought, complex analysis, and otherwise teaching you to think for yourself, we therefore decrease the amount of people who feel compelled to go into them. Since (see again, late-stage capitalism is a nightmare) most people are going to prefer some kind of paycheck to stringing it along on a miniscule arts budget, they will leave those fields and their inherent social criticism behind. Of course, we do have some people – academics, social scientists, artists, creatives, activists, etc – who do this kind of work and dedicate themselves to it, but we (and I include myself in this group) have not reached critical mass and do not have the power to effect actual drastic change on this unfair system. I can guarantee that they will ensure we never will, and the deliberate and chronic underfunding of the humanities is just one of the mechanisms by which late-stage capitalism replicates and protects itself.

I realize that I sound like an old man yelling at a cloud/going off on my paranoid rant, but…. this is just the way we’ve all gotten used to living, and it’s both amazing and horrifying. As long as the underclasses are all beholden to their own Ideas of History, and as long as most people are content to exist within the current ludicrous ideas that we have received down the ages as inherited wisdom and enforced on ourselves and others, there’s not much we can do about it. You are never going to reach agreement on some sweeping Platonic ideal of universal history, since my point throughout this whole screed has always been that history is particular, localized, conditioned by specific factors, and produced to suit the purposes of a very particular set of goals. History doesn’t repeat itself, per se (though it can be Very Fucking Close), but as long as access to a specific set of resources, i.e. power, money, sex, food, land, technology, jobs, etc are at stake, the inherent nature of human beings means that they will always be choosing from within a similar matrix of actions, producing the same kind of justifications for those actions, and transmitting it to the next generation in a way that relatively few people learn how to challenge. We have not figured out how to break that cycle yet. We are an advanced species beyond any doubt, but we’re also still hairless apes on a spinning blue ball on the outer arm of a rural galaxy, and oftentimes we act like it.

I don’t know. I think it’s obvious why society doesn’t understand and value history, because historians are so often the ones pointing out the previous pattern of mistakes and how well that went last time. Power does not want to be dismantled or criticized, and has no interest in empowering the citizens to consider the mechanisms by which they collaborate in its perpetuation. White supremacists don’t want to be educated into an “actual” version of history, even if their view of things is, objectively speaking, wildly inaccurate. They want the version of history which upholds their beliefs and their way of life. Even non-insane people tend to prefer history that validates what they think they already know, and especially in the West, a certain mindset and system of belief is already so well ingrained that it has become almost omniscient. Acquiring the tools to work with this is, as noted, blocked by social disapproval and financial shortfall. Plus it’s a lot of goddamn work. I’m 30 years old and just finished my PhD, representing 12 years of higher education, thousands of dollars, countless hours of work, and so on. This is also why they’ve jacked the price of college through the roof and made it so inaccessible for people who just cannot make that kind of commitment. I’ve worked my ass off, for sure, but I also had support systems that not everyone does. I can’t say I got here All On My Own ™, that enduring myth of pulling yourselves up by your bootstraps. I know I didn’t. I had a lot of help, and again, a lot of people don’t. The academy is weird and cliquish and underpaid as a career. Why would you do that?

I wish I had more overall answers for you about how to fix this. I think about this a lot. I’ll just have to go back to doing what I can, as should we all, since that is really all that is ultimately in our control.

[the--bot]

For GAYANDAGRYSPACEDORRITO

Like I said you would you resorted to ugly vulgar attacks rather than discussion. Nor did you read any of the truth told you. All interactions with lesbian sister was love n support. The misery and truths came from her. As I plainly stated u don't need God to tell you it is wrong, nature, your own mind, body, spirit, genetics, DNA wars against itself. Why, the truth none of you can argue n why at some point when societies and medicine falls away u will be extinct, why YOU CAN'T PROCREATE. That is nature itself, ur own bodies telling u it is wrong. This can't be argued, period, no matter how u try.

There are many false studies to support ur narrative but real science no. Genetics are genetics, period. It is choice.

Here is real study showing exactly that.....

Report refutes LGBT ‘born that way’ theoryStudy from researchers at Johns Hopkins University dispels popular myths about sexual orientationTheresa Farnan and Mary Rice Hasson OSV Newsweekly

8/22/2016

Shutterstock

According to a new report, scientific evidence fails to support the “born that way” theory of sexual orientation. In addition, there is “no evidence” that “all children who express gender-atypical thoughts or behavior should be encouraged to become transgender,” the findings state.

The report, “Sexuality and Gender: Findings from the Biological, Psychological, and Social Sciences,” is co-authored by Dr. Lawrence Mayer and Dr. Paul McHugh, both of Johns Hopkins University, and published in The New Atlantis, a journal of technology and society. While Mayer, an epidemiologist trained in psychiatry, insists that the “report is about science and medicine, nothing more and nothing less,” it is expected that, in light of the “great chasm between much of the public discourse and what science has shown,” the findings will generate intense pushback from cultural voices that advocate for LGBT-affirming policies. Emboldened by court victories and federal executive actions following the Supreme Court’s decision legalizing same-sex marriage, activists have depicted their efforts to further LGBT civil rights as grounded on settled science.

But, as Mayer and McHugh, a leading psychiatrist, make clear, the science is far from settled. The authors reviewed the findings of hundreds of peer-reviewed studies on gender and sexuality, and their conclusions challenge some of the popular cultural myths that surround questions of sexual orientation and gender identity.

Myth 1: Science proves that homosexuality and other forms of sexual orientation are biologically based (the “born that way” theory).

The authors reviewed several possible explanations for the “born that way” hypothesis, including genetics, exposure to prenatal hormones and neurobiological differences. They argue that science is not settled when it comes to understanding the origins of sexual attraction, sexual desires and sexual behaviors. In fact, the authors note, a scientific explanation of “sexual orientation” is problematic because the term “sexual orientation” means widely different things — sexual desire, sexual attraction, patterns of sexual behavior — to different people and therefore is hard to measure accurately.

In addition, by presuming that sexual orientation is rooted in genetics, researchers or clinicians may miss other relevant factors — including, for example, childhood physical or sexual abuse, which is experienced in disproportionately high numbers by nonheterosexuals. Moreover, if nonheterosexual desires, preferences and behavior were indeed biological, one might expect them to remain fixed throughout a person’s life. Instead, “there is now considerable scientific evidence that sexual desires, attractions, behaviors and even identities can, and sometimes do, change over time.” Adolescents especially exhibit fluidity of sexual desire, although the authors note “opposite-sex attraction and identity seem to be more stable than same-sex or bisexual attraction and identity.”

Myth 2: Social stress from stigma and discrimination is the root cause of the poor mental health of persons identifying as gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender. Removing social stress, by normalizing nonheterosexual behaviors, will resolve these issues.

Mental Health Statistics

Compared to members of the heterosexual population, nonheterosexual persons are:

1 1/2 times higher risk of anxiety disorders

Twice the risk of depression 

1 1/2 times the risk of substance abuse

Nearly 2 1/2 times the risk of suicide

Source: “Sexuality and Gender: Findings from the Biological, Psychological, and Social Sciences."

The “social stress” model proposes that stigma and discrimination directly cause the numerous mental health issues disproportionately found in the nonheterosexual population. The report identifies several shortcomings of the social stress model: Scientific evidence for the social stress model is limited, the parameters of social stress (what it is, what it means) are vaguely defined, and the model itself “does not put forth a complete explanation for the disparities” in mental health “between nonheterosexuals and heterosexuals.” In addition, the social stress model is unable to “explain the mental health problems of a particular patient.” They conclude that, “The social stress model probably accounts for some of the poor mental health outcomes experienced by sexual minorities, though the evidence supporting the model is limited, inconsistent and incomplete.” They recommend “more high-quality longitudinal studies” to assess the model’s usefulness.

Myth 3: A transgender person’s gender identity does not match the person’s sex at birth, so the transgender person is “trapped in the wrong body.”

The new report strongly counters this transgender myth. “The hypothesis that gender identity is an innate, fixed property of human beings that is independent of biological sex — that a person might be ‘a man trapped in a woman’s body’ or ‘a woman trapped in a man’s body’ — is not supported by scientific evidence.” A variation of this myth argues that a transgender person has, for example, a “male brain,’’ but a woman’s body. After reviewing studies of neurobiological differences in the brains of transgender persons, the report’s authors state that “all interpretations, usually in popular outlets,” suggesting that brain differences between transgender people and others are “the cause” of being transgendered are “unwarranted.”

Myth 4: Early transitioning, using medical treatments like puberty blockers, is the best way to treat transgender children.

The study’s authors emphatically reject this myth as not only unfounded in science but also potentially harmful to children. “The notion that a 2-year-old, having expressed thoughts or behaviors identified with the opposite sex, can be labeled for life as transgender has absolutely no support in science.” Moreover, Mayer and McHugh warn, “An area of particular concern involves medical interventions for gender-nonconforming youth. They are increasingly receiving therapies that affirm their felt genders and even hormone treatments or surgical modifications at young ages. But the majority of children who identify as a gender that does not conform to their biological sex will no longer do so by the time they reach adulthood. We are disturbed and alarmed by the severity and irreversibility of some interventions being publicly discussed and employed for children.” Because of the “scientific uncertainty” over treatments in children and the “lack of reliable studies on the long-term effects,” the report’s authors “strongly urge caution” toward such “premature” and “drastic” interventions.

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The report by Mayer and McHugh challenges current cultural myths surrounding gender and human sexuality, but their primary purpose in writing the report is concern for the well-being of transgender and nonheterosexual individuals. Many of these individuals have been promised — by cultural narratives if not physicians — that social affirmation of their chosen gender or sexual orientation will improve their lives and even resolve their psychological issues. The data, however, proves that this is not true. Mental health statistics paint a sobering picture of the mental and physical health challenges facing transgender and nonheterosexual persons. According to the report, members of the nonheterosexual population, compared to members of the heterosexual population, have approximately:

— 1 1/2 times higher risk of anxiety disorders.

— Twice the risk of depression

— 1 1/2 times the risk of substance abuse.

— Nearly 2 1/2 times the risk of suicide.

Transgender individuals fare worst of all, with lifetime suicide rates estimated at 41 percent; those who underwent sex-reassignment were about five times more likely to attempt suicide and about 19 times more likely to die by suicide.

Mayer and McHugh’s report contradicts the conventional, highly politicized narrative that “transitioning” and “coming out” will solve the problems of nonheterosexuals or gender-dysphoric children. In fact, these experts argue, nonheterosexual and gender-dysphoric persons deserve better than being steered into life-changing decisions and radical treatments on the basis of faulty science. They deserve compassionate care rooted in sound scientific evidence.

Theresa Farnan, PhD, is an adjunct professor at Franciscan University in Ohio. Mary Rice Hasson is a fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center in Washington, D.C.

U can find psuedo science to make u feel better but it won't. Sorry, truth is truth.