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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 5.5 Bonus

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language Warnings: None Summary: Local feral human spends some time with their new family. Four short bits featuring Daphne (Maiden OC), Bela, Lady D, Daniela, and a surprise guest. Enjoy. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly, 4: Portraits For Ghosts, 5: Heart Of The Matter

5.5: Family

“Wait, you’re telling me that you came here willingly?” You asked, mouth agape, eyes wide. It felt like every time you talked to Daphne she had something incredible to say. Which was, of course, why she was your favorite maiden to talk to. That, and the fact that she had adapted so quickly to your ‘charming personality’. So far she was the only servant you had been willing to be honest with. Mainly about your feelings regarding your blood bond, but also just about your relationship with Cassandra in general. Something about Daphne simply made her incredibly approachable. From what you had heard, you weren’t the only one to think as such, with her being fairly popular among the castle workers.

“More of us do than you might expect. Some consider it an honor to serve one of the four Lords, and Castle Dimitrescu is certainly… nicer than either the factory or the reservoir. Personally, I came here for a friend of mine. She, well, had less of a choice. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being here without knowing anyone, so it felt like I only had one option. Can’t say I regret my decision, if you can believe it,” Daphne explained, folding laundry all the while. At the same time, you carefully sort through the not yet washed clothing, separating them into two baskets. After all, you wouldn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to end up with a pink dress! Technically this wasn’t your job, nor did you have a job at all, but you hated having idle hands- especially when talking to someone who was working. At first Daphne had protested, but she had given in upon realizing just how stubborn you could be.

“That’s… impressive. I mean, holy shit, that's a real ride or die friendship right there. Is she, uh, is your friend still, you know, around?” You stuttered, cursing your tongue for asking such a thing. If the answer was no, you were going to feel like a real asshole. Which, admittedly, you had a tendency to be. But this wasn’t one of the times where it was intentional. Thankfully, Daphne is all smiles, and even seems amused by your spluttering.

“Yes, we’re even roommates. Well, us and five others. Possibly with a sixth one on the way, if we ever get someone to fill the empty space,” she replies, pausing to think. Then she’s back to work, refusing to waste any time. “Speaking of roommates… I know I said I’m not one for gossip, and I meant it, but a little songbird told me that Cassandra seems to be in a much better mood these days. Are the two of you, well, getting along? It would be nice to know that soulmates can overcome even the roughest of introductions.” There’s a hint of something odd in her tone, and you take a moment to wonder what she’s (unintentionally) hinting at. Had she met her soulmate, only for things to go poorly?... Before answering her, you make a mental note, deciding to see if any of the other maidens had a scar across their nose.

“It’s not like she and I are dating or anything. We’re just, you know, not hating each other. Currently,” you said, shrugging. But Daphne raises an eyebrow at you, and you find yourself instinctively feeling guilty, somehow feeling small next to the shortest person you knew. “Alright, alright, we might have… Okay we kissed. And promised each other not to die, because having your soulmate die hurts like hell. Also maybe she showed me her mom’s art collection and I made a joke about the titty sculptures because holy shit, this house has a lot of titties.” At this, Daphne bursts into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

“Amen to that, for sure.”

ii.

“So… fan of science, I see,” you say, awkwardly, bouncing a little on your heels. Next to you is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, who had unexpectedly joined your table in the library. There were several other places she could have sat, with both more comfortable seating and more workspace, but for some reason she had chosen here. So far she hadn’t said a word. Hell, you hadn’t spoken to her since your first meeting, where she had suggested killing you. Naturally, you weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Something told you that she felt much the same about yourself.

“Fan of oversimplification, I see,” Bela counters, after a few tense seconds. Then she sets down her book- a heavy text about Romanian avian fauna- to give you her full attention. “It would be more accurate to say that I enjoy studying biology, particularly the branch of zoology.” Well, this conversation was certainly… happening. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether she was legitimately judging you, or merely chaffing you for her own amusement.

“You’ll have to, er, forgive me for being overly broad. Consider it a side effect of my nerves, those themselves being due to our unsavory introduction. In case you don’t recall, you put that sickle of yours into my shoulder,” you reminded, with a sarcastic smile. To your surprise, Bela chuckles at this, almost as if fondly remembering the incident. Seriously, you think, why did my soulmate have to be from this family?

“Staying silent was an option. Perhaps that would have suited you better?” Bela says, now clearly teasing, smile much more genuine than your own. Knowing she had a point, you’re quick to blush, mildly embarrassed.

“Touche. I am curious, however, why you decided to sit next to me in the first place. I certainly wouldn’t have tried starting a conversation if you hadn’t,” you explained.

“Like I said… I enjoy studying zoology,” Bela replies, with a sly grin. It takes you a few moments to understand the intended implications. Once you do, however, you’re giving her a hard stare. Then you scoot your chair a few inches away from her, in exaggerated movements. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. Though you certainly are an interesting human. Much more, hmm, cheeky? Compared to the servants, at least.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that they simply prefer being alive, as opposed to not being as snippy. Except maybe Daphne, now that I think about it. Very sweet, that one,” you muse. “Regardless, I think I’ll return to my book now, for it lacks a tongue, and is therefore less likely to taunt me.” Doing just as you had said, you open the book, holding it a bit higher than what would be comfortable, so that it becomes a ‘shield’ of sorts. Nothing was quite as satisfying as subtle body language.

Accepting your words with a shrug, Bela also resumes reading, turning to a bookmarked page. Roughly an hour of relative quiet passes. Neither of you so much as glance at each other, not even when she drops the pen she had been taking notes with. In the end, you are the one who leaves first, and finally the silence is broken. You give your goodbyes, and Bela returns them politely. Though you do not know it, she sets her book down as soon as you leave, pausing to think about you. Now that things had ‘calmed down’, it was reassuring for her to know that you weren’t always full of spite. Still, you held onto your cleverness (for the most part), leaving her with no doubt about the universe’s decision. You were her sister’s soulmate.

iii.

“It’s official: I’m lost in a creepy castle. The universe hates me. Probably should have realized that sooner, considering how it decided to introduce me to my soulmate,” you mutter, scowling deeply, as you wander unfamiliar halls. How had you even gotten lost? Sure, you had taken a wrong turn, but it hadn’t taken long for you to realize your mistake! Evidently you somehow managed to make another one while backtracking. Now you were standing in the center of the corridor, hands on your hips, desperate for some maiden to come rescue you. What you really didn’t want was Cassandra to find you, because she’d make fun of you for the rest of your life. It’s not like she had specifically joked about you getting lost before. Except that was exactly what had happened.

A few minutes pass uneventfully. There aren’t even any distant sounds of life; no footsteps, nor echoing voices, nor the squeaking of floorboards. All you can hear is your own breathing. As well as the occasional sigh, admittedly. By this point, there’s a part of you that’s starting to panic. After all, there was a chance that the castle was big enough for certain sections to be abandoned. Hopefully that’s not the case, you think, I mean, they’d cut the power to those parts, right? Here’s hoping… With that in mind, you get back to wandering, figuring that you’d have to eventually run into a familiar landmark. Or better yet, someone who actually knew the castle’s layout.

When salvation at last reveals its holy visage, it is not in the form of a lowly servant, rather the muffled voice of none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. Neither her exact words nor who she’s speaking to is clear. At first, you can’t even tell where her voice is coming from, but you quickly approach one closed door, then another, searching for the source. Several doors later you’re certain you’ve found her. By then you can tell that she’s not alone. Not wanting to seem rude by interrupting, you take a few steps back, leaning against the wall to wait. For the most part you still cannot make out what’s being said, but a few words do reach your ears.

“-expected more from you. How am I-” the voice gets cut off, not by Alcina, rather a sudden gust of air, akin to massive wings flapping. When the speaker continues, they are both louder and angrier. “Someone is listening. Have you not taken steps to ensure our privacy?” Then the door is swinging open, revealing your soulmate’s mother. At first she’s practically shaking with rage, but her expression turns to shock when she sees you.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Cassandra?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, clearly stressed, as she steps into the corridor. There’s movement behind her, although you cannot make out any details. Besides, you’re quick to answer her, wishing to avoid her wrath (and that of whoever she was speaking to).

“I’m so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu, I was walking from the dining hall to Cassandra’s studio, and I took a wrong turn. I’ve been wandering for half an hour now. When I heard your voice, I thought perhaps I could, well, enlist your assistance. But you were busy, so I figured I’d wait outside. If I had-...” you pause, gulping, as the other figure steps into view. It’s a face you’re all too familiar with. One that popped up countless times through the village, and again throughout the castle, the owner’s name always spoken with acclaim, with worship. Mother Miranda, in the flesh, wings spreading out behind her, somehow cutting a more impressive silhouette than even Lady Dimitrescu. Instantly you’re falling to your knees, knowing that your sharp tongue was no match for this practical goddess.

“Who is this, Dimitrescu? Why isn’t their blood staining your claws?” Miranda questions, gaze never leaving your trembling form.

“This… this is one of my daughters’ soulmates. They were brought in with the last group of sacrifices,” Lady Dimitrescu explains, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Twas a true testament to Miranda’s power, as well as her influence, that she could make someone so powerful seem so weak. Which was exactly why you were shaking with anxiety. But to your surprise, the goddess does not immediately order your execution for your trespass.

“And already they know their place, hmm? Kneeling before me?” Miranda says, a strange smile dancing on her lips. Whatever anger she had been feeling a minute prior had faded, though you couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. Regardless, both Alcina and yourself are quite relieved, though neither of you are quick to show it. “Either they have a good head on their shoulders, or you still take care of some of your duties. Very well, they may live. For now. But I expect next week’s report to be far more favorable. I don’t need to remind you of the price for failing me.” With that said, Mother Miranda turned to leave, a swirling mass of dark feathers flying past you.

A minute passes, maybe two, before either of you feel capable of speaking up.

“Let’s get you back where you belong, yes?” Lady Dimitrescu says, quietly, before placing her hand on your shoulder to guide you. Tension hangs clear and heavy over both of you. Even as you walk down corridor after corridor, the feeling does not ease. At least not until you’re back in familiar territory, near where you had originally made your mistake, finally able to breathe a little. It’s here that Lady Dimitrescu pauses to speak once more. “Tomorrow I will assign one of the servants to give you a tour, in the hopes that this does not happen again. Furthermore, I ask that you forget everything you heard earlier, for it is neither your business… or my daughter’s.” You’re quick to nod, and with that she bids you farewell, leaving you alone. Now, you think, was it left from here, or right?

iv.

“I’m just going for a walk. Why do you care so much? It’s not like it’s any of your business,” Daniela assures you, despite the fact that all you had done was say ‘hello’. If this was her attempt at casting aside suspicion, she had done a terrible job of it. What made her so nervous? Was it even worth investigating? Only one way to find out.

“You’re rather bundled up, planning on being out for long?” You ask, trying to sound casual, leaning against the wall as you did. In response, Daniela pretty much stomps her foot. There’s something odd in her expression, however, that implies your question hit a soft spot. Certainly wasn’t what you had expected. “Don’t mind me, just trying to make conversation with my soulmate’s sister. Speaking of her… have you seen Cassandra? Is she, perhaps, going with you?” A little misdirection never hurt anyone. Probably.

“No!” Daniela replies, fast as a gunshot, too much emphasis to be unintentional. But she realizes her mistake as soon as she’s made it, and makes a clear effort to relax herself. “She’s probably in her studio, doing whatever it is she calls art, on the other end of the house. Besides, I don’t want any company for this walk.” For a moment you merely squint at her, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, you decide that it really is none of your business, being more than satisfied by what teasing you’ve already done.

“Alright, alright. Well then, I’ll leave you be. Just… be careful, yeah? If you get hurt, and your mother finds out that I didn’t stop you from going… not sure Cassandra could save me,” you say, with a shrug. At first Daniela can’t decide whether to be upset or relieved, but she seemingly settles for the latter, giving you a brief nod before heading outside. As the door shut behind her, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done the right thing.

#cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #yeah I'm back #don't be weird about it

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sidenotelife · 5 years

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A match day running diary

A running diary of the day when I find out where I will do my residency training (post-graduate medical training). For those not familiar with the medical training process, briefly, medical students send out applications for post-graduate medical training to become board certified physicians, and this occurs sometime in the fall of senior year. Then over the winter medical students interview with these programs, and then in February all the progams rank the students they want and the students rank the programs they want. This all gets thrown into a computer somewhere that optimizes all the rank lists and spits out assignments for students and employees for residency programs. This post is a running diary of March 15th, the day we get our residency assignments. This post is loosely based on a true story.

7:27 AM. Depart breakfast at Sunrise Bistro. Great corn beef hash. Would highly recommend.

8:55 AM. The costume theme for match day was “fictional characters” so we decided to dress up as son’s favorite thing which is Thomas the Train. Wife painted these shirts. Pretty legit.

9:10 AM. Prepare vegetarian chili in crockpot for maximum efficiency. I found a recipe that suggested putting quinoa in vegetarian chili to give it a little extra volume to it. I also put in my fave secret ingredient which is Dr. Pepper.

9:28 AM. Kids + Costumes ready.

9:28 AM. Son: Can I see the picture?

9:43 AM. Ken costume ready. I had to cut out a v so you could see my Sir Topham Hatt tie. Wife did not approve on my t-shirt cutting job. Can you blame her.

10:07 AM. Walking to Charleston Music Hall with family and friend.

Friend: Can’t wait to cheer really loud when you walk across the stage.

Ken: Wait I’m not walking across the stage.

Friend: *Massive disappointment* What why?

Ken: I don’t like the attention. Also I don’t like things with lots of people. Introvert probs. 🤷‍♂️

11:56 AM. Kids getting too crazy. Break out emergency Belgian waffles. It is truly an art to keep kids quiet and contained at any event.

12:00 PM. Open envelopes... Sioux Falls Family Medicine!

Hmm. I don’t look thrilled here. I think the exact emotion I had was how-should-I-feel-about-this, if that can be considered an emotion. Sidenote - Before I go further I feel the need to explain myself. I don’t want this to be conceived as disappointment that I matched where I matched. Sioux Falls was our #2 choice and honestly the only reason I didn’t rank it #1 was because of the weather. It is truly my privilege to have the opportunity to train there, but I feel it is of importance to analyze this emotion. This how-should-I-feel-about-this emotion.

Match has, for better or worse, come to represent the culmination of the whole med school experience. If you match at the place you wanted, your #1 program, your emotions are those of elation. You feel everything was worth it. All those days suffering in the library, all the shit you had to take from residents that were out of line, all of it. If you don’t match at a desired place or worse yet, if you don’t match and have to scramble, it’s a nightmare. But I worry that this is an oversimplification of the process, and I worry that med school has become nothing more than a way to ensure you get a desireable job than a place where you learn to care for sick people. I fear this sentiment about match is driving the Step 1 mania. (Currently being covered beautifully by @jpcarmody on his blog, The Sheriff of Sodium).

I think my emotions are also complicated by a personal change of heart I had sometime during the end of graduate school and the beginning of medical school. For so long I had worshipped at the throne of academia. When I came to medical school I dreamed of becoming the dean of my own medical school. When I started graduate school I dreamed of having a 30-person HHMI-funded lab/machine that would draw the envy of graduate students and postdocs everywhere. For so long I dreamed of my match day when one day I would announce that I was going to a sexy program like Stanford or Harvard or Duke. But I think during graduate school I started to understand the reality of academia, and especially the kind of academia that incentivizes the Cell/Nature/Science/NEJM rat race. My greatest frustration was that it was so hard to be ethical in academia. The academic system is fueled by the C/N/S/NEJM rat race, which in turn is fueled by stretching your data to look like it’s saying more than it actually does. It’s also fueled by outright lying and people producing fake data to get the data to fit the elegant hypothesis. I hated seeing mentors take advantage of students and postdocs, milking every last bit of productivity out of your underlings because that was truly the only way to survive. By looking out for yourself at all costs. I love science but I didn’t want to condone this sort of philosophy. I wanted to pursue physician-science in a way where I was not at the mercy of for-profit journal editors. I wanted to live in a world where we as a research team pursued science out of a desire to further the pursuit of knowledge and not just the next publication with a big impact factor. Maybe I was imagining a pipedream but it just didn’t feel like the right thing for me to jump into the traditional route of padding my resume at a top 5 med school.

When I went back to med school for my clinical years, I initially felt tentative but still willing to enter my hat into this foray. Gradually several little things gearshifted me off this track, most prominently working with one attending in particular. I worked with this attending during my addiction psychiatry rotation, and I watched him work for six weeks. He is a genius, but I admired him for more than that. More than any other physician I’ve ever met, the compassion he had for his patients was palpable. You could feel his frustration with the system that made it hard for physicians to help patients. You could see the depths to which he pushed himself in order to provide true patient-oriented care, and not just the cheap talk that often gets thrown around. I acknowledge that some of these tendencies are dangerous, and risky, but it’s also beautiful. That’s the sort of feeling that fundamentally pushed me into going to medical school. Other people’s suffering pained my heart and I had to do something to relieve this pain, if only to relieve my own pain. I don’t know exactly what happened to this attending, but he no longer attends on the addicion psychiatry floor. As far as I know he’s taking a break from seeing patients. My best guess is he burned out and gave up his fight against the system. Hopefully I’m wrong. I don’t know. Frankly, I’m too afraid to know the answer. But when I saw that someone who had such compassion and such raw talent couldn’t make it in academic medicine, I knew I had to do something different. I saw that something different in Family Medicine. I saw that this specialty, one that is treated by some as the specialty that you pursue when you can’t get good enough Step 1 scores to pursue what you actually want to do, I saw this specialty as the one that could offer a true path to patient-centered care. I saw the flexibility offered by the diverse skillset you could obtain during family medicine residency. I saw the potential for real long-lasting relationships with patients. I saw the value in being a generalist in a medical world that’s becoming overpopulated with specialists. I’m still convinced family medicine is the right specialty for me, and I feel it offers the possibility for me to pursue physician-science my way. Yet, there’s also a part of myself that’s grieving that I didn’t match at Harvard or Stanford, that I’m not working in the HHMI-funded lab, that my home isn’t the building with beautiful modern architecture looking out at the beach. It’s not a part of me that I like but regretably it’s still a part of me, and I think that moment when I opened my match envelope and saw the official match result it was the first moment it was real. I was really choosing to give up the glamors of a top 5 med school to pursue this off-beaten track. Am I crazy? Am I being too self-righteous? Did I make the wrong decision? I think that’s what gave me this feeling. This how-should-I-feel-about-this feeling.

12:23 PM. Kids too crazy... we need to leave.

12:57 PM. Get home.

Ken: Kids what do you want for lunch?

Kids: *opens fridge* Dad why is there so much beer?

1:03 PM. Looking up South Dakota-themed food. I remember when I went to interview there I asked them what the most South Dakota food was, and they told me it was Chislic. I don’t know if I’m spelling that right, but basically it’s fried chunks of meat. Sounds pretty legit:

1:15 PM. Daughter makes a sign. You may not be able to understand this sign so let me do a little interpreting. At the top it says South Dakota Bound, except the BOUND is backwards. Then the square-looking thing is the shape of South Dakota. Sidenote - The little divot at the bottom right corner kind of looks like Florida, which kind of makes the state of South Dakota look like a mini-version of America. The thick blue lines are water falls, which we drew because Daughter really wanted to draw something in Sioux Falls, so I said water falls! The four faces below that were commonly misinterpreted as Ken, Wife, Daughter, and Son but actually it’s Mount Rushmore.

1:57 PM. Son goes to rest time. Daughter cleaning up blankets from floor. Asking me, “Why do I have to be cinderella? Why do I have to clean the bathroom and the living room and the kitchen??” So basically we are raising a little martyr.

2:30 PM. Wife is already looking at real estate. I think she knows the stats for every single rental property in Sioux Falls. 🤣

4:13 PM. Recruit kids to help. Before this they were carrying cans of beer which was even funnier. 👶👧🍻

5:13 PM. Commence low country boil. I’ve always loved the idea of the low country boil and I’ve always wanted to do one but for one it’s real expensive to buy all the supplies, and for two I didn’t have the proper equipment for it. Fortunately my friend lent me his turkey frier and burner which made for the perfect low country boil setup. In retrospect, the low country boil was one of the funnest party meals I’ve ever made and I would recommend it 10 out of 10 times. At the same time, shrimp is one of my least favorite seafoods and I don’t love to eat low country boil. I feel like this makes sense.

Ok, those are the last pics I have so I’ll wrap up this post. Shoutout to everyone who was feeling how-should-I-feel-about-this.

See you on the other side,

From ken

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duchessofostergotlands · 7 years

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Hey Jessica

So you talk a lot about feminist literature and so on and I have been looking into different feminists and found Camille Paglia talking about women and societal structures etc.

Here’s the video https://youtu.be/v-hIVnmUdXM

I know it’s really long and I haven’t finished the whole thing yet but it’s super interesting and I thought you might enjoy it. Take a look at 51:20 timestamp for the part about gender roles.

So you agree or disagree? What are your thoughts? I found them to be quite annoying and very simplistic about the nature of male/female relationships.

This whole thing made me want to roll my eyes out of my skull. This Jordan dude literally says that men don’t know how to deal with women because they can’t hit a “crazy woman” but can hit a crazy man. HOW ABOUT YOU STOP HITTING ANYONE ASSHOLE?? If that’s the male script for dealing with things maybe we need to be dismantling that. Men have astonishingly high suicide rates compared to women and that’s replicated across cultures. The oppressive environment around men is not working in 2017!!

I don’t like Camille much. She thinks shouting at people makes her correct. In this video she says that all the problems in Western society are a result of women’s emancipation. She says that women and men have rarely interacted historically (wrong) and that successful career women are all miserable (she falls back on the old trap of using anecdotes as evidence- poor show from a supposedly respected academic). She talks about how women were at home by the hearth and men were out hunting which is such an oversimplification. Women were gatherers while men were hunters but women gathered far more food than the men brought in through hunting. They were incredibly valued in prehistoric society. I don’t know how she can just erase that. She also says that campus rape is a woman “misjudging” frat parties and that committees investigating it are just looking at “what went wrong on their date.” She blames women who run without bras for men who attack them. Fuck that. Feminists aren’t rape apologists.

The only thing I agree with is when she says modern feminism all to often denigrates motherhood and forgets the lessons it can teach us. Motherhood shouldn’t be the be all and end all of the feminine experience but it is not shameful. They both make really good points about that.

Honestly, this video is just a circle jerk between two privileged white people with massive egos and no real life experience. Camille is known as being the “anti-feminist feminist” but I’d replace that as just “anti-women.” If she wasn’t a woman, she wouldn’t be interested in women’s rights.

#camille paglia #feminism #non royal #submission #anon #thank you for sharing this!!

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frogsandfries · 5 years

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Tested

Last night, I went to bed much later than I was last week, and I actually feel better. I know this seems dumb and like a waste of time to reflect on and not Tumblr material, but eh, who's actually reading these besides me.

Instead, now the goal is to continue going to bed as usual, between twelve and one, and get up earlier if I'm going to work earlier, and later if I'm going to sleep later, and get my nap when I get in. I'm still getting my eight, but in a format my body has become accustomed to since starting to work third shift.

I actually recently watched a video or listened to a podcast on this. The guy who was speaking (if it was a video, I wasn't actually watching with my eyes, which is why I might've mistaken it for a podcast) said, for example, it makes no sense to go to a cafe at ten, if your body is used to eating at noon, and sit there for two hours, waiting to be hungry. Why would you lay awake in bed for two hours, waiting to fall asleep?

I thought, oh, well I'm really, really tired when I get home. Instead of taking a nap, I could try to retrain my body to sleep for eight solid hours.

Honestly, I would rather go to work feeling alert than feeling as if I hadn't gotten a minute of sleep. Plus, I've just grown accustomed to sleeping like this.

Anyway, so here's a thought:

Not so recently, I posted a video about a garment actually made out of spider silk. And the specific spiders they used produced a naturally golden silk, which was incredible, gorgeous, beautiful. I was thinking about it as, this morning, I looked out through a light, gloomy fog, through the rails of a fence that blocks the sidewalk off from the river. The watery, faint sun illuminated the cobwebs that hung in the rails, and I had an urge to take a broomstick or a pencil, or something, and collect them. When I was living with my ex, I would use one of his pencils. Not really out of spite, but more out of convenience. It's really surprising how big a cobweb looks and how many of them can be gathered up onto a pencil into nothing at all.

I'm probably never going to give my personal Tumblr to another person who I know in person. I'm certainly never, ever going to date someone who says "don't post about me". Fuck you, I won't mention you by name--I never use people's names or give my exact location at the moment, or places I work in the moment of posting, nothing like that, for my own safety as much as being linked to my Tumblr--but you don't get to control how I process my thoughts. If you don't want someone to know about how you behave or that you're dating me, maybe don't do those things. That was a tangent.

As I was staring at the cobwebs, I was wondering, who thought, I should capture these spiders for their silk? How in the actual hell did they come up with the systems for extraction??? Who's just like, oh yeah, this is how we're going to hold these spiders, this is how we're going to extract their silk, and this is how we're going to turn these invisible hairs that people walk into and can't see to extricate themselves, into a silk for weaving????? Insert Jackie Chan meme.

Of course, who thought, I really need to suspend some ground up plastic dust into a malleable plastic that can be baked to turn into sculptures and beads? Who thought, if I weave this fabric just so, I can make fabric with holes specifically for making x-stitches? Who thought, yeah, this dirt is squishy; let's bake it!

But let's ask the realest question:

Who thought, I like money so much, I'm going to buy all kinds of useless shit and convince people they need to make money making it, and then turn around and spend their own money to buy what they just made???

I know that's a massive oversimplification. I'm sure if I lived in any kind of society before the world wars, there's little chance I would have had the freedom to live as I do. Firstly, because I'm a woman and before the world wars, I would've been good for little more than a walking, breathing human incubator. I would've been believed incapable of thinking for myself. Given the kind of person I am, I probably would have bent over backward to make everyone believe it. Maybe mine would still have been the kind of dad who wanted me to learn to read and write. I probably wouldn't have had any sorts of experiences like I have.

On the one hand, I'd be married by now, long since married. My dad would've done his best to find a good match for each of his daughters. If life was merely a matter of how hard you work, my dad is a damn hard worker. But they're also very quirky. I guess there's no worrying about who I would have been married off to a century ago. It wouldn't have impacted capitalism.

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eclectic-geekery-blog · 7 years

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Thoughts on being a GM

I wanted to write something up about running RPGs. I don’t really know why, except that I read a thing from Geek & Sundry about the (admittedly limited) GNS theory of roleplaying, and I've been listening to Matt Colville’s great “Running the Game” series on YouTube, and I guess I just felt like I wanted to say some things about that in a somewhat more permanent way than person-to-person. So this series of posts will be a poorly-organized collection of my thoughts on running RPGs, what works and what doesn’t, why they work or don’t, and when all of that’s applicable. Here’s hoping I manage to make some sense out of it. Note: GNS theory gets its name from the three “types” of RPGs it addresses - “Gamism,” “Narrativism,” and “Simulationism.” There’s a lot of issues with the oversimplification there (and probably others I don’t know), but I’m going to reference these terms, because I think they’re still useful as sort of ur-styles. As always when talking about role-playing, your mileage may vary. 1) The Prep

Here’s how I prep for a game session right now:

If it’s a new story arc (that is, we’re coming off a bit of downtime and establishing a new adventure), I brainstorm about what the goal of the adventure is, where/what the McGuffin is, what my players are supposed to do with it, and who they might meet along the way. Then, I focus down on how they find out about the whole thing. And that’s it.

If we’re in the middle of a story arc, I look over any notes I may have on where we left off last time, and consider how close they are to doing whatever they’re supposed to be doing. Then, I focus down on where they’re standing and what’s happening immediately around them at the exact moment we start the session. And that’s it.

This is very different from how most people play D&D, and what most of the GM advice I’ve seen talks about. I don’t think that’s a bad thing, so much as it is a difference in goals. D&D, by nature, is a pretty Gamist game - it lends itself well to crunchy, min-maxy kinds of play, and to an extent, encourages a bit of an antagonistic relationship between the GM and the players. It doesn’t have to be played that way, but it seems to want to be. And because of that, it want lots of prep. That’s necessary to establish the “rules” of that pseudo-antagonistic conflict between players and GM. That’s a big deal! But I don’t find it to be very fun - it’s not how I want to play the game, and it’s not something I enjoy spending time on - so I walked away from both the work of it, and this whole style of play.

Instead, I fell backwards into this very Narrativist style of prep and play. More specifically, though, it’s a player-driven Narrativist style. I’ve found that I have a lot more fun when, as a GM, I’m responding to the actions of the players. They’re important, I feel, so let them be active - or even pro-active - while the rest of the world responds to them. Which means most of my prep work is about figuring out what they’ve done, and how that affects where they are. I’m not necessarily worried about how long it will take the bad guys to complete their ritual (or build their bomb or slaughter their hostages or... whatever thing they’re trying to do) - for my purposes, that’s a product of plot convenience. All I’m worried about is what they’re trying to do, why they’re trying to do it, and how/whether the players are addressing that.

There is a frankly massive downside to doing things this way - minimalist prepwork doesn’t actually reduce the total amount of work you’re doing as a GM, it just changes when you’re doing that work. I’m still creating NPCs and building dungeons (or dungeon analogues), establishing and describing settings, crafting encounters, and all the other things that I would otherwise do. This way, however, I’m doing that on the fly, as things are happening. That’s not nearly as easy as simply knowing everything you need to know ahead of time. But then, it’s not necessarily that much harder, either.

So how do I handle all of that? Well, it helps that I’m using a personalized version of an already-existing setting (specifically White Wolf’s World of Darkness setting, using the old Revised rules), so I don’t need to invent every setting from scratch. But perhaps more importantly, I offload some of the work. Some of my players have created multiple characters over the course of the game, some of which have retired into NPCs, and at least one of which (the players recently realized) is now a serious antagonist. When those characters show up, I take their old player aside, let them know what’s going on, and allow them to play their old character for a little while. I’m terrible at names (both at remembering them and at creating them), so nearly all of our significant NPCs have been named by the players (and at least two have been named by the characters). I’ve let them establish settings, invent and explain what their antagonists are trying to do, and even create the random NPCs they interact with.

So far, this has paid of handsomely. This campaign has been running for something like 8 years, and while we just started the last story arc, I’m expecting it to last about another year. I’m constantly surprised by how much my players are enjoying the game, because, honestly, I don’t think I’m a good GM. I mean, some of that’s probably just my normal level of self-deprecation, but also, I’ve seen what really good GMs are like - I watch Critical Role, and I’ve played with some amazing people - and I’m just not like that. If there’s only one takeaway, here, that’s the one. You don’t have to measure up to all those amazing GMs you’ve seen or played with. You just need to help your players have fun (of whatever type they prefer), and they will think you’re amazing.

#rpgs #running the game #prepwork #thoughts on being a gm #rambling #one day i'll learn when to shut up #instead of babbling incessantly #that day is not today

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aniimeziing-blog · 6 years

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Adrenaline Chapter 6

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Was it possible to feel lonely in a Quirked world?

In a world populated by those who could fly of their own volition, of people able to manipulate the very fabric of the world, of men and women who could shift their genetic make-up at will, of a world where extra limbs or extra body parts were common… Could something as simple as loneliness, a problem so easily solved by companionship and kindness, even exist?

Yes… Yes, it did.

Quietly tapping his fingers atop the wooden desk, Izuku could hear the faint echoes bounce and dash around the room. How his mind had wandered onto this topic, he couldn't really know; nothing too serious had happened to make him question the foundation of society, nothing to make him accuse the Quirked world of a serious crime or even ponder its meaning in general… Nothing too out of the ordinary had happened to make him think these things so… why was he? Glancing down at his fidgeting fingers, he began to spy the bandages bound tightly around his arms, snaking their way down his flesh like linen serpents that constricted and suffocated his dead and crippled flesh away from society. Maybe… maybe that was why he began to think.

These scars, the ones the bandages were hiding from the world, were caused by his Quirk, the power passed onto him by another person without blood or heritage involved… In that case, he was isolated alongside All Might and all the other One for All users, trapped within the stigma and the gross oversimplification of the world, that their combined and crystalized power couldn't and shouldn't be possible; it was a secret that they must all keep to their graves for it put the very world into scale that they would not be able to escape from if the truth came out. In that way, he was lonely, not being allowed to share and talk about his secret to those that cared so much about his wellbeing. Deep down though, he knew it wasn't that. In that circumstance, he still wasn't completely alone and he had others that could understand what he was going through, others that he could relay his feelings to like Recovery Girl and even All Might himself, others that had to go through all the same crap that he was going through now… In fact, for them, in a world growing accustom to the mere idea of powers and innate abilities built within the human genome, it must have been far harder. So, it wasn't that which made him ponder.

It could have been the unrelenting weight pushed upon him by the acceptance of the Quirk…Even the users which had come before him hadn't had the ideology of All Might pushed upon them, the position of the 'Symbol of Peace' thrust upon them. Yes, they had readily accepted the Quirk and the powers it granted but to his knowledge, on the man who had gifted it to him personally had managed to rise throughout the Heroes society with it; it was to such a degree that the very island of Japan seemed to wish him success while it droves of people prayed to this modern, super powered God… And Izuku had to live up to that? The teen had previously been drowning in worry and desire for the man's Quirk that he hadn't really thought about the aftermath of his actions and so he was now sitting here, the very fate of the Hero community in his shaky, scarred hand… In that aspect, he truly was alone. Even then though, there were people like Todoroki and Bakugo who were pushing themselves against Hell and Heaven to reach the Number One spot too, against forces like Endeavour and fate itself, so even the impossible odds put before him were shared by others like him.

Then perhaps… Perhaps it was the nature of his Quirk. Adrenaline. It's very foundation was pure agony, pure fury, that to exert even the slightest amount of power a sacrifice must be made on the part of the user, a toll payed in blood to unleash massive amounts of built up energy and force on-top of the power granted by One for All. Truly, it was a magnificent side-effect, maybe even a whole other Quirk if pushed to its limit… But that is where the ideologies of the future and the ideologies of society clashed. When Izuku was younger, he used to watch All Might fight Villains all the time, watched All Might save people, watched All Might bat away problems like they were nothing and he completely idolized him… Still does, but the main reason why was because he seemed indestructible. Everything he did, he did with a smile that showcased his power and strife, that showed how he wasn't at all scared of death or chaos. That was why Izuku and so many others looked up to him… But how would he be able to be that for the next generation when every attack he gave off, every time he jumped in to save someone, he would have to bleed; the very act showed how weak he truly was, that he wasn't able to save himself, let alone a hostage or someone in danger. That… That was where he was alone.

Loneliness, it wasn't the first time he had felt it. Being Quirkless had its downsides and now he was truly embrace-

"Deku!"

Jolting up from the impact of the verbal bullet, Izuku suddenly recalled where he was; being interrogated by his friends in their classroom. Almost immediately, his skin felt hot and raw, stained scarlet from the intensity of the glares he was receiving. Surrounding him sat the impatient forms of Uraraka, Mina, Iida, Kirishima and Tooru; Iida and Uraraka he understood, they all walked to the station together, but Mina, Kirishima and Tooru didn't make much sense but considering his situation, he wasn't in much position to be questioning those around him (his guess was that the Invisible Heroine was walking home with the pink skinned teen, who was staying behind to figure out why her team-mate suddenly become a literal bloody super-human during their training session and the Hardening Hero was in a similar position).

Vaguely, Izuku began to quickly recall how he ended up in this predicament. After his fight with Kirishima and Satou, he had begun to feel lightheaded and dizzy and so tried to get back to the waiting room as quickly as possible. Before he did, he tried to ignore the prying questions from Uraraka and Mina while helping up his opponents up, which not only left him in hot water with them for not responding in the right way, but also under the gaze of the red headed individual he helped who suddenly became very interested in how his Quirk operated. By the time he got back to the waiting room, he had to deal with the staring and the open mouthed responses from most of his class-mates before Aizawa pretty much forced the class to continue – he had provided Izuku with the bandages to cover his arms, gifted to him by Recovery Girl because she knew how reckless and uncontrollable the teen was at this point in his training. However, he soon realised that his mechanic limb was missing, discarded at the training grounds; this was before he looked over at a certain Uravity to see the device gripped tightly between her fingers. He recalled trying to persuade her to give him the device back, saying that he was going to explain everything but Uraraka wouldn't bring herself to give it back, instead telling him to come back to their classroom after school in order to retrieve it.

That was when he was confronted by the 5 people in the room right now and practically forced to sit down.

"S-Sorry, blanked out for a few minutes. W-What were you talking about Uraraka?"

She sighed and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the pacing girl's fists tighten ever so slightly.

"Well, Izuku, I asked you if you would mind explain what the Hell happened just now?"

Izuku. Not Deku, Izuku. To merely hear that coming out of her mouth hurt him a little bit; she was the one to stand up for his degrading nickname, the one that made the pain he felt from Bakugo's usage worth it, the one who successfully changed his label as outcast to something that meant he was able to stand up against the very world itself, the one who stood by him… To hear her ignore that showcased her anger and her fury at this situation, how he was acting reckless and out of character when it came to this whole problem; he was usually so calculated, so meticulous in his decisions but instead, he was just stumbling about like a child hooked up to overwhelming power. He wasn't in control at this point and she and everyone else in the room had seen that…

Tugging on his bandages, Izuku grit his teeth, smashing the pieces of cartilage against each other violently as he vowed to better himself once again; he was going to fight so that Deku would be the only thing he would be viewed as, the person who could rise up against difficulty and shatter any pathetic visages placed before him and not the one who wore that title unceremoniously. Turning his gaze towards the worried girls face, the teen tried to steel himself so that he could face her honestly and not just implode with embarrassment or fear of disappointment.

"I… I was trying to figure out how to best use the new aspect of my Quirk."

He heard the girls shuffling and pacing pause.

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

This time, the question posed came from Kirishima. Tearing his eyes from Uraraka's skittering frame, he looked the confused crimson head in the eye, tracing the rough scar that lay there with his mind to distract himself momentarily.

"His Quirk, duh. We did tell you about it… right?"

On the other end of the classroom, Mina started off her sentiment very high and might, almost arrogant, before quickly descending into worry and anxiety when she recalled past events. Past events that Izuku wasn't present for and so had no proper say in this interaction, instead biding his time highlighting things in his head to avoid the poignant and debilitating stare of his rosy-cheeked friend.

"Nope! He was off doin' stuff with Bakugo when we told the others."

Tooru answered off quite happily, the high-pitched voice erupting from the other end of the room as the chalk began to mysteriously doodle on the black-board. The pink skinned teen sighed.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner, Tooru…"

"Why? It wasn't important."

"If you reckon me looking sort of dumb is not important."

"What did you say Mina?"

"Ugh, forget it."

From the side of the room, Iida finally decide to make his part in the conversation. Standing up in front of the group, the soft tapping of metal as the teen moved over to stand next to Izuku, the speedster's overwhelming form towering over the much shorter Quirk Inheritor.

"We understand your conviction Izuku, it's what makes you… You. However, what we do not understand is why you would require so much potential harm to activate it?"

As always, Iida was very straight forward with a sort of harsh, blunt honesty that threatened to break Izuku's skull once more but now there was… Something else hidden below his language. Glancing up at the teen, the green haired boy found his mind tilted at what he saw; Iida was perfectly still. Usually, he was quite active, always jittering and moving his arms that it seemed he was almost physically impossible to become still but here he was, statue-esc. Izuku couldn't see his eye either, the strong glare from his glasses reflecting the starting setting sun that sat behind the teens. This was strange…

"Well, ever since my fight with Todoroki, my Quirk seems to have taken on some new attributes that weren't there before; like, do you remember how some people thought their Quirk was something completely different to what it actually was... Um, water manipulation was actually the ability to condense and transmute the oxygen in the air to be more like water due to the presence of more hydrogen atoms, stuff like that."

He paused. He had been rambling again. Lifting his head up from the desk, he saw Iida standing before him, nodding his head in complete understanding while the other 4… were still quite confused; Uraraka seemed to understand most of it, it was the whole science aspect of it that she seemed to lose attention on, he couldn't see Tooru but the fact that he doodling had slowly become more and more shaky until it was now just a selection of shaky lines had answered his questions, and Mina and Kirishima were looking at each other in morbid confusion, twirling their fingers around each other while looks of perplexing origin consumed their faces. It took a while before said pink skinned girl managed to speak again.

"Huh?"

"J-Just think of it as thinking your Quirk is water generation when its more… Water manipulation."

At this, everyone seemed to pick it back up once more.

"So then, what's this new, awesome Quirk of yours then?"

Kirishima had asked a very valid question. For all they knew, his powers were the exact same due to the common acceptance of mystery around Izuku's original strength enhancement but now that was being thrown out the window by the user themselves so… What was it?

It was here where Izuku began to fret. He didn't have a cover story ready for this; before, when he just had the base Quirk of One for All it was quite easy to cover it up as being a separate strength Quirk due to the complete variation in appearance whenever he and All Might unleashed an attack (this was now due to their side-effects but he had not known this at the time) and even now, it was actually very simple to cover up, All Might could not use pain inflicted onto him to power up his attacks after all. It was just the fact that he had to come up with the cover-up in such a short amount of time.

"W-Well, um, before i-it was just a simple strength enhancement Quirk, a mass collection of power that I was able to summon at will with the side effect of the uncontrollable nature being the damage I received after the fact. Now though… N-Now it's more of my body attack itself in order to build up energy, damaging my nerves and receptors for a short amount of time with the energy given off from the start of my Quirk, when my skin starts to get hot. Then, that pain generates more energy than at the initial activation, as pain it what brings about the energy required for the output, and so I can use it in a punch in my arms or I can use it in my legs to travel really long distances quickly at the cost of breaking the bones or tissue in the area that the Quirk is used in. Fortunately though, the energy also activates a larger amounts of blood cells which clot the skin wounds and heal them at a much faster rate, while my bones are helped by an influx in chondroblasts which heal them faster."

Glancing up from his rambling, he hoped that he had explained it to a degree to not only convince them all of his Quirk. What he received in turn were stares that made him question if he was even speaking English; even Iida looked slightly confused.

"I-In retrospect, my body requires pain as a stimulus to generate mass amounts of energy that fuel my body before releasing addition cells to help with recovery for a short time afterwards."

"Ooooooh."

Sighing. Izuku thought that he was free before he was leapt at by Kirishima, the Hardening Hero visibly in we at the newest discovery presented to him by the green haired teen.

"Woah! That is so cool! You have to hurt yourself in order to use your Quirk?! That is so manly!"

Clapping Izuku on the back with a wide and toothy grin, the Inheritor couldn't help but replicate it.

"It's also really stupid and really dangerous."

Glancing ahead of him and away from the spikey haired teen, Izuku let out a small sigh at the sight of Uraraka. Her eyes were filled with fury and anger, laced with bouts of annoyance and confusion but the words that managed to roll off her tongue contained no malice and no hate, only care and comfort. All-in-all, it was a very confusing picture that, while settling the picture of a distraught and perplexed girl in the teen's mind, also made him contemplate his own situation; he had made her feel all these things, made her do this because of his messed-up Quirk. Looking her in her eye, Izuku was about to speak up when a loud cough and the hard tapping of shoes filled the air.

"Now that's all fine and dandy, right? But please indulge dear Izuku… What the Hell do you need with this thing then?"

Practically skipping towards the group (who had unanimously decided to congregate around the Izuku's desk for whatever reason), Mina was accompanied by the faint sound of hollow metal as she moved. Following the noise to its origin, Izuku suddenly found his skin growing hot in embarrassment and under the heated glare of a certain Gravity Girl, her entire form somehow being consumed in a comforting rage as the pink skinned girl near them; in her hand, Mina was carrying his mechanical limb, his device, his… Scar-Suit. Sucking in a breath at the badly worded and really bad name, the teen looked at it as the handle jingled and shook around, clashing with the metallic frame of the device as it did and creating the ominous noise emanating from the girl's grasp.

When she got near enough, she placed the spindly frame on the desk, wiping off her hands on her skirt before placing them on her hips and turning to Izuku with a look of playful terror in her eyes, knowing what this would mean for him purely from the look on his face.

"Go on then, what's this thingy-magij do for your Quirk?"

Staring down at the mechanical structure, Izuku relented as he picked it up.

"So, when I was explaining my Quirk, I told you all that my body needed pain to act as a stimulus for my Quirk, that it allowed the release of energy which would then be used in my limbs as a source of power. I also explained that this stimulus can come from my own body, with a sort of precursor energy activating alongside it to provide pain initially so that the after effects and the primary source of energy can be used. However, at this point I-I don't know if that will do anything long term; I don't know if it'll damage me internally, even with the additional cells helping the recovery, or if it might damage me mentally… Think of this source of Quirk activation as what happened at the Yuuei Games, during my fight with Todoroki and how I sort of lost it."

Gazing up at his impromptu audience to make sure that they were still following, he was met with a few small nods from Kirishima and Iida, showing that they were at least following this part of the explanation but Mina and Uraraka reacted differently; both appeared to be flustered at the mere mention of that fight, with said Southern girl gaining a thick coat of red dusting her entire form as she avoided eye-contact with his entire person while Mina was staring straight at him, lost in a swirl of lilac as she just lost herself to whatever she was thinking. Whatever had them up in arms, he couldn't tell, so Izuku just continued his talk.

"A-Anyways, the source that activates my Quirk can also be external rather than internal, meaning that my body doesn't potential suffer any psychological or internal damage that I am completely unaware of. Instead, if I am able to deal a significant amount of damage to myself with something on the outsider like a knife or just sheer damage to my body, I am able to use my Quirk. This is just a rough proto-type that I was testing out; the spines on the sides they… Um, stab my skin just enough to generate the energy needed to use my Quirk without seriously damaging my body. At the minute, it's the safest thing to do."

Glancing down at the skeleton before him, Izuku began to outline it and look upon how it could be altered. Even in its short time of use, the metal coating had to scratch off, revealing the twisting frame below it in all of its rustic glory, while patches of dried crimson dotted the length of the appendage, complementing the dull sheen of silver that lay across it. In a way, it mirrored how Izuku's own life and attitude was panning out; he had only acquired Adrenaline a short time ago and it had changed his future and his mindset exponentially, made him feel more alive and freer then ever while still chaining him to a harmful ideology that he knew was bad for him.

This power that lay dormant inside of him had heightened his desire for being a Hero, his want and strife for becoming someone of such a high calibre that it only managed to push him past all of his Quirk's downsides; he could fight through the pain if it meant it could give back to everyone in his life, to All Might for giving him his Quirk, to his Mom for supporting him and helping him all his life, to his friends for being there and pushing him to rise above it all and he could do all of that with his own power, with some that kept true to the value of All Might while still giving him a personal touch and patch of freedom. However, at the same time, it bought forth all of those thoughts from earlier, about how it made him unfit to have the mantle of the Symbol of Peace. At this point, Izuku couldn't tell if he was over-reacting to this and just worrying over nothing or if this was a genuine concern, with his Quirk being in its infancy he was unable to gauge how others would view it, but it was a concern that had trapped Izuku in a vice-like grip of worry that he just couldn't shake. Adrenaline truly was a double-edged sword, no doubt about it.

"Are you sure that this is the safest option Izuku? I mean, I don't want to be rude or anything, but looking at your arms I'm not so sure."

Hearing a soft, sweet voice by his ear accompanied by light breaths hitting the shell of his ear made the teen recoil in shock before figuring out that Tooru had moved from her position from the blackboard, instead coming over to listen to his mumbling about his Quirk. At the same time, she was softly running her invisible hand down his arm, smoothing over his bandages and the wounds inflicted by his Quirk in a calm, comforting manner that allowed him to understand her feelings. Didn't mean he wasn't embarrassed and nervous at the thought of having any kind of girl this close to him.

"A-At this stage, y-yeah. I may h-have to be use bandages a lot, b-but compared to what the fight against T-Todoroki did to me… This truly is the best option."

Without thinking, his scarred and damaged fingers crept up to the back of his skull, contorting and stretching around the cracks and fragmentations that lay there as a result of the fight; and the foolish actions he performed while under Adrenaline's influence. Suddenly, his thought process was interrupted when a heavy hand hit his shoulder and forced him out of his head. Slowly turning his gaze up to the where the impact came from, Izuku's brow soon became furrowed at the sight of Iida, his eyes turned to the ground.

"Iida?"

"Izuku I… I think that you should reconsider using your Quirk in this manner."

Looking ahead at his friend quizzically, he soon found that the stares of everyone else in the room followed to the tall Hero-in-training.

"What'd you mean, man? He just explained that he can't really use it without riskin' himself."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Kirishima began to lean against the desk in front of Izuku's, offering Iida his own perplexed view on the matter, unable to figure out why the teen would want to stop Izuku from using his Quirk.

"I only mean that he should try and manoeuvre around this aspect of his Quirk and use it like he used to."

"You mean using it to the point where it… Broke his bones? You sure about that Iida?"

"That is not what I am insinuating. Only that- "

Next up was Mina, offering her own point on the situation, providing a flaw to their speedster friend and his way of thinking. As she was talking, Izuku was just thinking. Why would Iida be so against this idea? He had seen how he acted with his Quirk before, so him hurting himself wasn't a new topic… Maybe it was the idea of prolonged exposure to pain would change him? That he wouldn't want to improve or better guarantee his own safety due to the power it offered him? No, it wasn't that. Glancing down at his damaged hands on the desk, he turned it so the palm was tilted towards him; there was another layer to this.

Biting his lip, his eyes turned upwards to meet Uraraka's the girl just as confused as he was; it was to the point where her anger and fury had subsided, replaced by complete confusion. Staring at her, Izuku began to think about what could have happened in the last few weeks that… Could have…

He understood.

"This is about your brother… Isn't it?"

All conversations ceased existence as soon as Izuku spoke up. Everyone turned their eyes towards him but the teen was only focused on Iida and his reaction. He was silent for a few seconds before letting out a heavy sigh and turning towards his friend with a heavy expression in his eyes.

"I saw Tensei's body Izuku. It was broken and beat up, so bloody that it made me want to gag. That was my brother, that was the Pro-Hero Igenium right there, destroyed in a matter of seconds. To me, that is what you are proposing we let happen to you; that we stand by and let you destroy yourself for the sheer purpose of being a Hero."

Subconsiouly, Izuku squinted his eyes.

"Stand by? No, Iida, I just wanted to tell you why I need this device and anything like it in the future. T-Tomorrow, I'm meeting up with Mei again so that we can work on costume ideas to better get my Quirk under control. If you want to talk to me about anything do it, but you know that I can't just stop being a Hero."

"It is that determination that scares me. My brother was the same way; he wanted to help everyone no matter the cost, be a great Hero that made people smile no matter the cost… Just like you. And after everything that has happened with this Hero Killer, I'm scared that one day I will be back in that hospital, looking at you in that hospital bed, all because of your own Quirk."

This type of care and comfort had rarely been directed at Izuku so at the minute, he felt overwhelmed. However, that didn't mean that he couldn't argue his point. Iida was trying to have him stop using this part of his Quirk, the part that he felt so conflicted about, for his own sake. Yes, it was so that he and others wouldn't see Izuku beaten and battered but that was their job as Heores, to take the damage that others couldn't. In an act of selfishness, the Quirk Inheritor shot back at Iida.

"Iida, t-thank you so much for you concern but you have to understand that this is all I've ever wanted. As Heroes, we have to be ready to put our lives on the line for other people and even if I have to put myself at risk to even use my Quirk, that is worth it if I'm able to save one person. My Quirk, while not invincible, can help me bounce back from any damage I receive; I understand not to over use it and rely too much on it but, it will help me. I-I'm not trying to be insensitive here Iida, I really am and it's out of respect for you and your brother, but I am not Igenium."

The room seemed to freeze over slightly as Izuku spoke those last 3 words. It may have sounded harsh, especially coming out of someone like Izuku, but it was something that needed to be said. Locking eyes for a few seconds, Iida's soon dropped. Then, he slung his bag around his shoulder and began to make his way to the door but before he did, he managed to say one thing.

"Neither am I, Izuku. Neither am I."

Watching him about to leave, the teen tried to stand up, to get Iida back here to talk instead of just letting him leave and wallow. He was stopped by an invisible force however, as Tooru pulled him back in the same soft, calm manner that she had spoken to him with earlier. It was quite a departure from her bubbly, over-the-top-self but something told Izuku that this was more real than that was. Despite not being able to see her, the boy turned around to where he face would be and looked there with peril and regret in his eye.

"Let him go for now Izu, he just needs this time to think. He'll be fine soon but for now, just let him be."

Too engrossed in worry for his friend to notice the new nickname applied to him, Izuku just nodded and returned to his seat, head turned towards the wooden surface. Silence crept around the room for a few minutes before the loud beeping of a phone went off, alerting everyone to its presence. Kirishima was the source. Pulling out his phone, he looked through it quickly before sucking on his teeth.

"Damn. Listen, I've gotta bolt it but thanks for telling me Izuku, it helped me understand a little bit more. I'll be ready the next time we fight, got it?"

Smirking slightly at the challenge, the teen nodded at his red-haired friend, earning a wdie smile in return. Picking up his bag, Kirishima was about to leave but took one look at the group of four one last time before dashing out and jogging down the hallway to leave. Now that he thought about it, Izuku realised that they had been here for some time, with pretty much everyone else in the building having already left. He was distracted for some time before being coaxed back in by a cough right in front of him.

"So then… Izuku…"

Looking up, the green haired boy could audibly hear himself gulp at the glare he received in return, the intensity of which seemed to set the very room on fire. Uraraka was standing there, cross armed and a pout adorning her face as she stared him down. She may have been trying to be more aggressive, seem angry and annoyed at what he just said but instead he could just focus in on how her brow twitched alongside her mouth as she tried to remain stoic; to be honest, Izuku found it quite cute.

"Uraraka… I can't just give up because of what my Quirk is. Yes, it is dangerous and yes, I understand the risks that it entails but I want to be a Hero and now I can be; I told you I was a late bloomer so I haven't had the 10 plus years all of you have had to train and get accustom to it. No. I have to work harder to make sure that I don't lose control and end up hurting someone else with it, to make sure that whoever I save can be comfortable if I come to help them… Work harder to make everyone proud."

Gazing back down towards his desk, Izuku could hear the sigh that emanated from Uraraka's mouth. Too scared of the reality of the situation, of having his dream rejected again like it had been so many times before, he didn't even look up from his desk, the desk which housed his beaten, bloody hands; they sat comfortably under bandages and curls of linen, hiding them away from the rest of the world and even though he was unsure of his purpose, unsure of whether he could become the Symbol of Peace in this state, he was sure that he would try his damn near hardest to make that dream possible and no longer have it squandered and shot down by those around him. Now, he would live for his own dream.

Quietly, he heard the faint tapping of shoes across the wooden classroom floor until they stopped in front of his desk and he watched in content and confused silence as the table bent slightly under the unexpected weight of another person; of Uraraka. Glancing up to meet her, he saw a comforting softness to her face which hadn't been there for some time. Calmly the girl began to move her tiny hand towards his, the size of his dwarfing hers, until she clasped her shut around his flesh. Undeterred by his confusion, she resumed running her fingers up and down the warm piece of linen.

"Iz- No, Deku. I can't promise that I know how you feel, and I can't say that I completely support this silly mindset of yours… But the way you smiled just now, when you talked about your dream, it made me realise that I can't say that I hate the idea or say that I should be angry at you for your decision because I cannot bring myself to be any of those things."

Leaning forward, she took more of his hand into hers and began to wordlessly undo the bandages, letting them drop to the desk with a soft thud. Then, the Southern girl pulled and pushed the cat-like pads on her fingers across his numerous scars and scratches with reckless abandon.

"We care for you Deku… You need to remember that. We care for you so much that when we saw you jump into action today, when we heard you scream and shout, our hearts began to beat like crazy, and we didn't know if you were really alright or not. We… I was so scared for you."

Pulling herself closer, she enveloped Izuku's top half in a tight hug, holding him closer to her chest while he froze, scarlet coating his entire form.

"Please just be careful, okay?"

"Y-Yea, s-sure."

In the few seconds that she was holding him, Izuku could feel all the care and warmth that Uraraka felt towards him; it was like nothing else he had ever felt, he had never truly felt that much attention and worry for him from someone that wasn't his Mother and that in itself, was enough to make him emotional. But it was more than that. It was that she was able to show this to him without speaking it, she could and it would work but she didn't have to. No, Uraraka could do it, make him feel like this without words and that meant so much to him.

"Alright Love Birds, let's get moving or Aizawa will chew us out for being here so long after school hours."

Shooting away from each other, Izuku and Uraraka grow grew thick red blushes on both of their faces as they turned to see Mina's wide and sly grin adorning her pink face. Alongside her, Tooru's clothes swayed and moved in spirals to show her impatient attitude as her bag, covered in colours and different stickers, swung around with her. Sighing, Izuku pushed himself away from his desk and grabbed his small yellow bag while Uraraka moved to grab her own bag. Offering each other one final smile, the two turned to their friends with an expected gaze.

"Well?"

"Hm? Oh yea! Do you mind if we walk with you guys? We sort of got ditched talking to you guys."

Tooru replied, the same bubbly tone present in her voice. It made Izuku pause. Now that he had been exposed to that softer, calmer side of her, this happier, over-the-top personality just seemed sort of… Off. It seemed more unnatural, something made-up but to be honest, he didn't know the girl enough to take that guess to heart so just let her be for the minute.

"S-Sorry about that."

"Ah don't worry Muscles. Anyway, you owe us now so you basically have to let us walk with you."

Sticking her tongue out at the boy, Izuku couldn't help but sigh at Mina's interactions with him. Didn't stop him from turning a shade of brighter red though. Didn't help when Uraraka got involved.

"Damn! She's really got us here Izuku! Blackmail it is!"

"C-Can we just go please?"

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writers #midoriya izuku #deku

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