#[ because it's never going to happen i'll never remember ]

[siri-ike]

The spray was never supposed to last long. So when Tim came home and heard Dick say he'd sat there with "Bruce" for three full hours, he was concerned, to say the least. He can't still be in his fantasy. He can't still be this docile. Real Bruce wouldn't even be this docile, let alone "elementary school arson record" Bruce. But he just sat there. Staring at anyone who came into view.

His grip was tight, much tighter than he could pull off when he was high. And no way would Nightwing ever ask him to stop. He'd hold him forever if not for all their pesky human needs like eating and sleeping. Speaking of sleep, shouldn't he be getting tired? "Hey, Bruce?" Dick whispered so as not to disturb too much. "Are you tired? Do you want to go to bed?"

Bruce shook his head. "I fell asleep, during Gray Ghost." His voice was calm and low (for a child), and he didn't even try to un-bury himself from his dad's hold.

This is big. He slept and didn't lose his memory. Dick waved Tim over.

"What?" Tim spoke at a normal volume.

"He didn't forget dinner." Dick kept whispering, but his excitement shined through. "He woke up at 4:43 pm yesterday, we had dinner at 9, afterward, he got to watch some Gray Ghost tapes and fell asleep. At 4:43 am he woke up again because Phantom was destabilizing as usual, but when Zatanna asked him what happened, he told her about dinner. He Remembered Dinner." Dick really emphasized the last part.

"That's great," Tim brought his tone down to match Dicks. "So then he's stable?"

"Stable? Dude, no. He's aging backwards."

"Oh, right. I forget people are supposed to get older." Tim said, fully serious. "I'll run some tests, and we should keep monitoring him."

"How about we run tests, and you go to your room and take some melatonin." Dick suggested. Let's see if he knows how aging works in the morning afternoon.

One hour later, at 9, Bruce was willing to eat. Dick hadn't left his side and could attest that he was calm non combative and ate like he hadn't seen food in a month. "Please don't be Stockholm syndrome, please don't be Stockholm syndrome," He repeated in his head. "It's too fast to be Stockholm, I can't let him leave. He thought he was dead a few hours ago. Wait, did he ever say he didn't?"

"Hey B? I, uh, Bruce?" He addresses the boy across the dining table.

"Yes, Father?"

Crap, crap, crap. Other age appropriate swears. Dick doesn't look anything like Thomas. If anything, he looks like Martha. No, wait, he looks like his own parents. Unless.

"Bruce, what is my name?" Nightwing fiddled with the mask in his hands.

Bruce just sat there, confused. Like he didn't expect him to have a name at all. "You're... you're, uh," He looked shamefully down at his food. "I don't know." His voice quivered.

"It's ok, Bruce. My name's Richard Grayson, Dick for short." He reassured. "Just one more question, alright?" He gave Bruce time to consider and nod. Nightwing put his arms down on the table and looked Bruce in the eyes. "Are you alive?"

"No~" his guilty expression instantly turned to utter glee.

Nightwing thought for a moment. "Are you dead?"

"No." He giggled.

"Then what are you?" So much for "one more question."

"I am not bound by life or death."

Dick didn't recognize the language, but it sounded otherworldly, almost like a mix of TRAP music and demonic incantations with a hint of backwards English. He also needed a minute.

"Alfred?" Dick asked head in his hands, slumped over in a chair in a corner of the kitchen. "I'm starting to think my son might be the devil."

"Master Dick, all parents think their children are devils from time to time. I certainly thought it with each of you, and look how you turned out... raising more hellspawn." He joked, kind of.

Dick couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "I think we need to move up our meeting with Harley." He sat up, hands on his knees as if to brace himself. "Bring her here, rather than go to her."

"Isn't she in Arkham right now?"

Nightwing pulls out his phone. "I'll figure something out." He scrolls through his contacts and finds two Jim Gordans. He picks the one with the incognito picture.

"Commissioner Jim Gordon." Jim answers.

"Hi, this is Nightwing. Remember that boy, a month ago, who claimed to be a clone of Batman?"

"Yes, he showed up right before all of you dropped out of the world. Did he survive?"

"Yeah, he's... something. Look, I need Harley Quinn."

"Harley Quinn, the clown or Harley Quinn, the doctor?"

"The doctor."

"You know there are plenty of psychologists in Gotham."

"And none can handle these sorts of things without losing their minds, too."

-Silence-

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

*click*

"Why do you need a doctor?" Bruce had innocently popped in, probably to talk to Alfred.

"Hey, buddy." It was impressive, really. Not many people can sneak up on him, especially not so casually. "Harley's a friend of ours. She's just going to talk to you. Think you could do that for me?" Dick has raised more than enough titans to know you can't force kids that age to do anything.

"M-hm." Bruce turned toward Alfred. "I had water and sleep and darkness, but my head still hurts. Can I have something?"

"Oh, dear." Alfred put his hand on Bruce's forehead. "Well, your temperature is normal. Where does it hurt?"

"Here, and here." He he presses on his forehead, then to the sides of his head just above the ears.

"I'm gonna give you one more Ibuprofen, and we'll do some tests after that." Alfred put the medicine box back on its top cabinet shelf. "How does that sound?"

"Good," Bruce placed the pill in the back of his throat with his hands like he was auditioning for a horror movie, then he downed the water like a normal person. He was about to head out but stopped. "Alfred? Can I have candy?" He pointed at the fancy glass bowl full of chocolate covered salt caramels.

"Last I checked, sugar does not remedy headaches... you can have one." Alfred didn't even look at the puppy eyes. He is not willing to put up a fight for something so small.

Bruce delightfully lifted the lid and, careful not to touch more than one, picked out a treat. He likes the ones with blue marzipan.

Nightwing watched him leave the room without a care in the world. "I think you just got played."

"The headache is real. And I believe more than just swelling. He may no longer be throwing up and seizing. But he's been asleep for almost a month, only waking up for an hour or less, always at the same time. Then there's the more recent confusion in identity. Those are not psychological symptoms. They are neurological." Alfred gave his most serious "listen very closely, I'm not even going to buffer this with sarcasm" face.

"I'll schedule a brain scan."

Clone Danny long post

The footprints lead Alfred out of the room and to the right but quickly dried up on the short hair carpet.

Alfred checked every room to the right of Danny's. He had to have left the family wing. 40 minutes of searching later, Alfred was about to go down yet another hallway when he heard faint music and metal clanging. He walked closer to the sound until he could make out some words.

🎶I- can hear the sound of violins🎶

🎶long before- it begins🎶

The gym. Someone is at the gym. He told Dick to relax. This is the opposite of relaxing. He stops for a moment outside the door to gather himself. People listen to empathy more than anger. When Alfred pushed the door open and looked down at the workout area, he didn't see a disobedient clown. No. Instead, he was forcibly dragged back to 1989, staring at a 13 year old Bruce doing chest presses. He always looked the most at ease when he was at the gym. The rest of the time, he would be looking for his parents' killer or discovering seacret organizations. Alfred used to cherish the time Bruce spent at the gym because he knew it was the closest he could get to calm. Shortly, Danny put down his 3 kg weights and addressed Alfred.

"Morning, Alfred. Breakfast already? Thought I had more time." He sounded like Bruce, more than just his voice. Danny had his own way of talking, but this was all Bruce.

"Young Master," best not to object to his perceived reality, whatever that may be. "It's almost seven in the afternoon, not morning." The sun would have spoiled that for him anyway. "And dinner will be ready in two hours."

"Oh, ok. I'll be there at nine then." Danny simply went over to the next station in his routine. Right as he sat down on the floor, something seemed to dawn on him. "Alfred? Did something happen to me?" He asked innocently.

Alfred remained frozen, staring at the young boy. "What would give you that idea?"

"I woke up in a different room than usual, I had to switch down all my weights, and the files in my father's office have been moved. And then you came in looking like you've seen a ghost." Ever the detective.

"Nothing gets past you. I'm afraid you had a rather bad fever and spent a few days in bed. I would like to examine your health, but it can wait. Let's say, eight-thirty? Before dinner?"

"Kitchen at eight-thirty, got it."

Alfred left the room and braced himself on the door. He thinks he's Bruce. He probably thinks it's the 80s or 90s, too. It's a good thing most everyone is out hunting down clues and/or committing extreme acts of violence.

Danny had changed into an all black suit (bowtie and kerchief included) before coming to the kitchen at 8:27. Hmm, he does like to be punctual. His temperature and heart rate were normal, for once he didn't have bags under his eyes, which responded in time to light. But, he was definitely younger than he was when he arrived. Dick wasn't imagining that.

"Can you tell me your name, age, and today's date?"

"Bruce Thomas Wayne, 12, almost 13, today is November, uh," He struggled a bit. "17th? Maybe a bit later, 1988." He avoided eye contact. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't have known today's date even if I hadn't been sick."

Alfred smiled a little, remembering how much he used to care about getting good scores on everything. "I'll be sure to include that in the report." He retorted sarcastically, earning a small grin back. "Now go wash up, dinners almost ready."

As per routine, Alfred started by bringing out the helthiest dishes. They all knew it was a trick to get them to eat vegetables, but no one was ever willing to wait. Danny was so hungry, even the brussel sprouts were appetizing. Now if Alfred could just stop staring at him and actually put the container on the table.

"Alfred?"

"W, what?"

"Are you OK?"

Danny had combed his hair when he'd asked him to wash up. This was Bruce. This was the boy Alfred raised. The one who had fallen asleep in his arms every night for months because he refused to be alone in the dark. The one who used to "forget" to tell Alfred about the handfuls of peanut butter in his pockets, ruining thousand dollars dress pants on six different occasions. The one who wanted to keep street cats knowing full well he was allergic.

"Do you need a day off? Or maybe a week?"

"What? No. I'm alright master Bruce. Just, uhm, glad to see you have your appetite back. That's all." Keep it together now. He set down a steaming glass dish full of baked carrots, sweet potatoes, bell peppers, onions, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, and mushrooms.

Danny took as big a serving as he could fit (vegetables can only go in the top right on his plate), making sure not to let the butter run too much. The next dish was steamed turnip. Crap. Another vegetable. Can't mix them. Can't put it somewhere else. The only option is to finish the baked vegetables fast.

By the time he finished his quarter of a turnip, six more dishes had already shown up. How many people does Alfred think live here?

At 21:11 Dick walked into the dining room. Dressed in a plain shirt and pants. The two boys looked like they were going to entirely different events.

"Hello." Danny invited. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

"This gentleman is detective Richard Grayson." Alfred interjected. "Master Dick, would you care to join us for dinner?"

"Oh, where are my manners? Here, have a seat. There's plenty of food."

The dinner after that was awkward, but nice. It's good to have some company once in a while. Ever since his parents died, it's just been him and Alfred.

He did wake up late in the afternoon, so it shouldn't be such a surprise that he got to stay up and watch his gray ghost VHS tapes way later than his usual bedtime. Only interrupted occasionally by Alfred, making sure he's keeping all that food down. He had to have been really sick. He doesn't even remember throwing up recently.

He must have dosed off at some point because he was awoken abruptly at some horrid hour of the night by an ear pierceing scream. He hurried to its sorce in the family wing where he saw what looked like another Bruce, except this one had white hair and wore a black onesie. He appeared to be melting into a glowing green sludge. Bruce knelt down and grabbed the boy, who stopped screaming. Opting to bury his face in Bruce's chest instead.

Alfred came just as the gruesome scene was over. 4:50 am, same place, same time, every night. Alfred had hoped something had improved when the screaming stopped early. But rather than the typical gorey mess, there was Danny, inconsolable and covered in slime.

"Wh, wh, ah?" Who was that? What was that?? Why was that???

"Master da- Bruce." At lightning speed, Alfred was on his knees and holding Danny. "Come on, you don't have to be here." He tried to lift him up, but Danny resisted.

"...Why do you have the carpet cleaner?" He accused. "Did you know this would happen?"

[fightingcold]

✨ Mr. Dream gang when??!!!!

LOOK AT THIS SILLY GUY!!!! WHY DOES (ah no, i know why) PEOPLE DON'T LIKE HIM.

Of course, I know that since NES he was just replacement for Mike Tyson because of lack of license from Nintendo and he was just... reskin, that's all. Blanky blank.

But I wouldn’t be me if something hadn’t appeared in my head when I noticed something uncanny in him. You know... His face, moves and other, all of this seem unnatural. And if unnatural... Could this mean that Dream is not human at all? Judge for yourself, in the last century there could have been development of a hyper-realistic android fighter for pumping out money of course. It never occurred to anyone that he was made of steel, and what theories could people come up with, writing in newspapers and spreading kind of disinformation? Dream was loved and hated, he was always on top, knocking out rivals with a big, hyper punch.

...Until the lethal incident happened.

This caused a stir and of course people began to be more and more interested in Dream's identity, to look for him, and, as it happens, not to give him a breath. Later, society began to ask, like, where did the great champion go, and why?

There were no answers, and the vast expanses simply became quiet.

But.. HEEY, IT'S 2000s!!! I believe that in the PO universe the advanced technology is much more advanced in our world, therefore... New technologies - New Dream!!!

Now he is based on a more trained artificial intelligence, capable of showing feelings and making contact, including physically. Sensors in the eyes, better artificial body parts, muscles, motors and devices similar to processes in the human body... Etc (Maybe I'll even draw an Dream's anatomy.) And also a personal trainer appeared (My OC Nastasia😼), as strange as it may be for a machine, but he really needs to be trained on the basis of real people.

It is obvious that he is trained to 'remember' his 'personal life', like Italian origin or family, and if he suddenly finds out otherwise, he will either have to conflict and experience existential crisis or eliminate those who know it.

There's a some of Dream art!!! (Blood and Gore TW!)

⬇️⬇️⬇️

1) SECOND BEST EVER MY DREAMIE FANART, baby boy baby.

2) SOMEOF PPL ALREADY SAW IT BUT I DON'T CARE, I LOVE THEM TOO.

Ah yeah blood part.

1) I dunno, should i even warning y'all guys to blue blood?? But, here is!

2) yum✨

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

october 1, 2021 4:15 p.m. grant's house

[juhani] hello? grant, can i call you tomorrow? it’s late.

[grant] no, you can’t. i know it’s 11 o’clock where you are right now, and i don’t really care. you answered, so you’ve trapped yourself.

[varpu, faintly] juha, if you don’t talk now, he will never call you back.

[juhani] i want to speak with you, of course i do, it’s just–

[grant] fantastic, because that’s what we’re doing. we’re talking! i have 30 years of stuff to get off my chest, and i'm sure you have your own piece to share. not sure where to start, but.

[juhani] may i ask you a question? what did you overhear at dinner the other night? are you upset i'm moving? is that it?

[grant] i mean, that stung a little after the whole “i’ll be around to build a relationship with you,” thing, but i gave you my express permission to go home, so it’s whatever. we are both adults, so i am not going to fault you for making adult decisions that improve your life. i'm more upset by you claiming you didn’t tell me about your plans or include me in the moving and wedding stuff and whatever because i'm difficult.

[juhani] that’s not what–

[grant] oh, come on. don’t kid yourself. you said it yourself, anything involving me is like pulling teeth. i heard it loud and clear.

[juhani] well, when i tell you things, you never react well. it always goes precisely like this conversation is going.

[grant] really? never? because i remember being pretty positive about your proposal and about you contacting me in the first place and about coming to dinner to acquaint myself with varpu’s kids and about meeting varpu a while back…

[grant] what i react poorly to is you leaving me out, you calling me difficult, you complaining about me in front of impressionable people, etcetera.

[juhani] i don’t want to leave you out.

[grant] that’s what varpu said, too, but i didn’t believe her, so why would i believe you?

[juhani] i have no idea how to interact with you. i've apologized to you, told you i regret the events of your childhood. nothing works.

[grant] do you regret it? because it kind of just feels like you’re doing the same shit again. abandoning me for your own self-interests. oh, and this time you’re replacing me with a brand new family you treat better.

[juhani] i'm not repl–okay, what would you prefer me do when you push me away? you told me i was difficult.

[grant] when did i say that? i mean, that's true, sure, but i would not say that to you. what i probably said that you’re misconstruing is that talking to you is hard because i'm not comfortable around you.

[juhani] and how long will it take you to be comfortable around me? i don’t know what else you want me to do. truly, i don’t, and it is not pleasant to be rejected endlessly.

[grant] well, i'd have to forgive you, but i don’t. if forgiveness was meant to happen, it would not be instant. you’d have to keep trying with me, even if i piss you off, even if i push you away. you’re my fucking father, it’s your job. you show up for your kid even if they’re horrible or annoying. you never turn your back on them. but, you know, you didn’t show up for the first 22 years you were around, so you’d have to try extra hard now to change my mind.

[grant] but honestly, i will never be comfortable around you. i've realized that over the last few days. i did actually think if you just kept trying, i'd relax and be less on edge, but nope. you could become an honest-to-god saint tomorrow, and i'll still be furious because nothing will make me understand why you couldn’t have been a decent person when i was a kid. like, when i needed you.

[grant] and i don’t get why you weren't. i don't. i'm serious. i can’t comprehend it. clearly, you have it in you to be a decent person. you love varpu's kids. you're fatherly towards them. you take them on vacation, you invite them to house and wedding venue tours, you tell them about and include them in your hobbies, you remember details about them, you smile at them without being forced, you go to their weddings and don’t flip out about them being queer even though you were viscerally disgusted with me when you found out–

[juhani] you shouldn’t bring them into this. it isn’t fair. and i've taken you on vacation before, for one.

[grant] i am being petty, but i think it's fair because i'm not shitting on them specifically. and yeah, okay, you took me on vacation once. you took me to finland exactly once, but i never met your family, and i remember nothing other than the plane rides.

[grant] and you shouldn’t do this. we don’t need to split hairs. you don’t need to crawl through that list of grievances and “well, actually” me as many times as you can manage. one vacation changes nothing. that does not erase all the times you sat there like a lame duck and ignored me or mocked me or let my mother abuse me. there is nothing for you to pat yourself on the back about.

[grant] nothing.

[juhani] so, what are you upset about now?

[grant] why?

[juhani] why what?

[grant] why are you like this? why were you a terrible father? why have no heart for me or my sisters? why did you save all your love for someone else’s kids?

[grant] oh, and how about cerise? you sure didn’t care about your bastard kids either, did you?

[grant] shit. i'm sorry. that just kind of came out. that’s not how i wanted to, you know, pepper that into this conversation. i was going to save that for the end.

[juhani] how do you know about her?

[grant] doesn't matter. it's a long story.

[grant] on that note, what is up with the secret daughter? how’d that happen? is she the only one, too, or should i be on the lookout for any other siblings? and hey, you only divorced my mother in the last few years, so you were cheating. how many times did you fuck around on her, and why would you? you wouldn’t divorce her because you were afraid of her, but apparently it's no big deal to cheat.

[juhani] grant, how can i answer you if you don't allow me to talk? cerise’s mother michelle is a doctor. your mother and i were both at a conference in detroit about healthcare outreach, and…

[juhani] i know it seems contradictory, given how long i stayed with your mother, but i was unhappy in the marriage. i met michelle there at the conference, and she was kind and intelligent, and i suppose the rest of the story should be obvious to you.

[grant] goddamn, man. i hate my mother, but that’s bold: sleeping with another woman right in front of her face.

[grant] did she ever find out?

[juhani] eventually. you remember how she was with the finances. she tracked all the money going in and out of the household. you couldn’t have one cent go missing without being accused of something, and she’d always blame it on some incident with her brother and start ranting about him.

[juhani] look, the agreement with michelle was that i'd stay out of her life and send child support, and she wouldn’t interfere with my family either. i used to lie and tell your mother the child support funds were going somewhere important, but she didn't believe me very long. she did finally question me and find out the truth.

[grant] and?

[juhani] in hindsight, her reaction reminds me a lot of the one she had when you lashed out at her during your graduation dinner. very little left her speechless, but that did. initially, i should clarify. she would go on to never let me live cerise’s existence down.

[juhani] and to answer your question, as far as i know, cerise is the only other child.

[grant] as far as you know?

[juhani] i cannot rule out further surprises.

[grant] jesus christ. my grandmother is right, all men are dogs, but you most of all.

[juhani] does it upset you that much?

[grant] again, i don’t like my mother, but if i needed any more proof that you’re more spineless than a sea sponge, this is it. you were so unhappy with my mother that you’d cheat on her, but you’d not divorce her when your kids were vulnerable.

[grant] you disgust me. you slept around and thought with your dick before you spared a single thought for the kids you let my mother abuse. or for yourself! fuck you. if you’re going to be that selfish, at least be selfish enough to prioritize yourself and leave the woman making you that miserable!

[grant] and now i don’t believe you when you say you wouldn’t leave her back then because you were scared of her. do you seriously mean to tell me it’s less terrifying to cheat on her than to just walk out of the house and never come back?

[grant] i did that, you know? when i'd had enough of my mother, i told her as much and then never spoke to her again. and guess what? wouldn’t you be so stunned to find out she’s never tracked me down, never tried to call or email to reel me back in? she left me alone after i told her to go fuck herself!

[grant] and technically, you know it's possible to leave her, too. what did you say about the divorce? that she just rolled over and let you do it and was fine with you just coughing up all the assets and dipping?

[grant] exhibits A, B, and C that she’s a coward, too. she thinks she’s the boss, but if you fight back hard enough, she gives up. you could have left her at any point in time.

[grant] god. oh my god. you stupid, spineless motherfucker. i thought i'd maxed out on anger. apparently not!

[grant] you really could have been a better father. you could have had your whole little life overhaul decades ago, and you could have saved the entire family so much pain. you, me, elizabeth, kelly…

[grant] i should have suspected as much, and i guess i did, but it's shocking to realize over and over just how useless you are as a father. i think it can't get any worse and then it does. you are a complete and utter failure as a parent.

[grant] this is why i can’t forgive you. you didn’t have to mess up so badly. but no. whatever you got out of the relationship was enough to convince you to sit there and watch my mother ruin all of us, and even thought you weren't happy with her, you got by with fucking other women and only regretted staying a billion years later when you noticed you had nothing of substance left in life but my mother. and that’s a pretty depressing way to live, isn’t it?

[juhani] i stayed because i thought we deserved each other.

[grant] with that attitude, maybe you did.

[grant] listen, i'll admit this, no problem. it’s no one’s fault that she is the way that she is. it’s not even yours. she’s abusive, and what she does to other people is her fault and her responsibility. she’s excellent, too, at convincing you to just go along with it and never question her. it's not that hard to get caught in her trap at first, and she will try her very best to break you. but at some point, you have to question anyway. at some point, you have to recognize you deserve better and do something about it.

[grant] but you didn’t. not until it was too late for it to mean anything.

[grant] i would never think i've done everything right, but in the end, i've respected myself enough to make better choices and do something about the situation i was in, and i've had to do that because the adults in my life weren’t responsible or organized enough to fix things before responsibility fell into my hands.

[juhani] you are a braver and a better man than i.

[grant] i'm glad i am, but do you know how exhausting it is to be brave all the time?

[grant] i am because you weren’t. it is entirely because you failed. you weren’t brave enough to give a fuck about yourself or your kids, so i've had to be brave my entire life. brave enough to survive my childhood, then brave enough to leave. and guess what? i don’t want to be brave. i just want to exist. and back then, i just wanted to be a kid.

[grant] just a kid.

[grant] i wanted to come home from school and play with my pokemon cards and hear my mom and my dad say, “hi honey! how was your day? we love you!" i didn’t want to live in fear of what horror would befall me each and every day.

[grant] fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. you stole my childhood. you stole elizabeth’s childhood. you stole kelly’s childhood.

[grant] you and my mother, but you could have done something. you could have given us our childhoods back. you could have done something! you should have done something!

[grant] you didn’t have to do everything right even. parents mess up, i know that, but you could have at least tried. the bar was on the floor. i would have over the moon living in a single parent household with a father who at least showed up to my hockey games if he wasn’t busy at work and gave me a hug every once in a while.

[grant] and you know what, you did more than steal our childhoods. because you couldn’t stand to sacrifice your comfort long enough to take care of your kids, we all have to live in permanent hell. i have to spend the rest of my life freaking out when someone walks up behind me or speaks too loudly or–god forbid–touches me! it took me years to finally learn not to flinch when someone high fives me! and kelly–i don’t know what she deals with, but i know her life can’t be peaceful.

[grant] again, i am not blaming you for what my mother did–i know she was not kind to you either– but i do blame you for not even trying to stop her or get away from her. you were an adult with power, and you didn't use an ounce of it. actually, you did use it, just not for good. you threw me specifically under the bus because it was easier to let my mother use me as a punching bag than you.

[juhani] you’re right.

[juhani] you’re right, grant.

[grant] i have nothing else to say, short of "fuck you" again. i think i'm done yelling at you.

[grant] no, wait, one last thing. what did you even see in my mother in the first place? what was so enticing about her that you’d stay with her so long and ditch your college sweetheart for her?

[juhani] i don’t know. i don’t know anymore.

[grant] i guess it was two people drawn to each other's misery.

[grant] great. well, that’s all, folks.

[grant] good luck with the new family. maybe you can make it right with someone else and enjoy a totally fresh start because you will never make it right with me, and i will never let you forget what you did to me and my sisters. and don’t lose varpu again, by the way. she is, like, far out of your league–so far it's not even funny–and you are lucky to have this second chance with her and to have a good relationship with her kids.

[grant] also, just so it's clear, i don't want to speak to you anymore after this. don't call me, i won't call you either, except in one circumstance. i'll consider it on the day my mother kicks the bucket. we can toast to the end of that chapter of our lives and hope that the haunting ends. because surely you have to feel a little haunted, too, right? i have a sinking suspicion that’s why you reconnected with me. you don’t care about me. you care about that fresh start, about making yourself feel better about wasting your life and fucking up everyone around you.

[taruruchi]

𝐃𝐚𝐲 2: 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 3

Post-overblot Azul

I got a sudden vision of an unseen scene that happened in the main story, and in this essay, I will entertain the question:

What happened after Azul's overblot?

This is mainly reliant on the fact that the overblot students have to recover after their overblot. Because it took a lot out of them, right? So they're stuck in the infirmary for a few days and can't go about their regular duties (If they didn't and I'm remembering wrong, idc they have to stay in the infirmary now bc I say so)

I imagine that after each overblot, the prefect has to bring homework and stuff to whoever just overblotted, like Riddle in Chapter 1, Leona in Chapter 2, etc. because they're the resident Errand Runner

Azul has a bigger workload since he's running Mostro Lounge too. Now, Jade and Floyd and the other Octavinelle students can take over, sure, but it's not like he can just put it aside while he's recovering in the infirmary. He gets restless and bothered that he's not there to look after his business. So the prefect has to bring both his schoolwork and those Mostro Lounge documents he looks over

And this is where I start talking about this in terms of the version in my head, aka the version with Taruchi

The first day after The Incident, Taruchi heads to the infirmary after class to give Azul all his stuff. She's already done this for the previous overblot students

"Hii... How are you doing? Are you doing okay?"

Azul looks up from the papers he's holding—the financial losses of the other day—and finds the prefect peeking from behind the curtains separating the beds

"Prefect? I wasn't expecting you here. I'm doing fine, thank you."

"Just dropping off your stuff. ...Are you working???"

She spots the papers scattered on his bed.

"Ah— Yes, I was calculating the amount of losses Mostro Lounge experienced yesterday."

Taruchi gets closer and looks at all the papers. "...Need any help?"

"I couldn't possibly ask you to do that. It's all right," he declines.

"No, you're not feeling well. You should rest. And I'm decent at math, I'm sure it won't be too hard."

"No, seriously, it's fine."

Taruchi frowns at his insistence to keep working despite needing to recover. "...Fine. Just... don't overwork yourself, okay? You haven't completely recovered yet."

"Sure. Thank you, prefect."

"No problem. I'll, uh, I'll go back to my dorm now. Hope you get well soon."

She comes back the next day on her second round of "errands."

"Helloo, I'm back." This time she has a small smile on her face as she greets him.

"Ah, hello, prefect." Azul naturally smiles in return.

"What are you doing today?" He's got papers around him again.

"It's for Mostro Lounge again." He rubs his temple as he looks at the papers. "I need to think of a way to make up for our losses."

"Ohh... How are you gonna do that?" she asks curiously, and half as a way to make it less awkward.

He ends up talking about Mostro Lounge for a while and his plans, so she just listens and asks questions. Her mind wanders a bit to the realization that he's very dedicated to and passionate about his business. She tries not to smile.

Then he stops for a bit and inquires of her, "I meant to ask, why are you here? For longer than yesterday, I mean. You dropped off my things already, so did you need my assistance with something?" Was he trying to fish for a deal right now? Even after his lesson about taking advantage of people's problems and luring them into contracts?

"Oh, n-no. I didn't need any help. I was just visiting." No chance to rope her into a deal.

"...I see."

"I'm sorry, do the visits disturb you? I know you should be recovering and resting up..." She's never felt this nervous about her post-overblot infirmary visits before. (Well... Maybe. Leona was pretty intimidating to bring homework to... He kept trying to get her to keep it.)

"Not at all. I don't mind." He gives his charming smile. In his mind, he's just trying to get her to like him and lower her guard so she doesn't hold these errands and visits against him or something. As if he was the one who forced her to do this. (It was Crowley. And partially Grim because he left her alone for the reason of wanting to go back to the dorm early to "do homework.")

"Oh, okay." She checks the time on her phone. "Ahh, I need to go back to my dorm now. Grim's waiting for me and I've actually got homework to do..."

A light bulb lights up in Azul's head. This would be his way of making it up to her. (Making what up to her? His reasoning is the trouble of helping during his overblot and sending over his schoolwork and Mostro Lounge work.)

"I could help you, if you'd like."

She smiles and tries to decline. She just wants to go to her dorm. "Oh, no, it's all right, I can do it by myself—"

"I insist. I offer my services all the time. See this as my way of repaying you for all the trouble I put you through."

Now she felt guilty and couldn't say no. "Really...?" she asks hesitantly. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, then..." She sits back down on his bed and takes out her homework.

After an hour or somewhere around that, she packs up. "Huh, I actually got a lot done today." She smiles. "Thank you so much, Azul."

And he smiles back. Only to be polite, of course. "It was no problem. Feel free to see me tomorrow as well."

"All right. Thank you." She keeps smiling and finishes packing up her things. "So I'll go now. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

See you tomorrow... Azul found himself smiling at that one phrase, but stopped as soon as he realized it. Why was he smiling anyway?

Taglist: @solxima @angelwishess @scint1llat3 @distant-velleity @twtysevapr @cynthinesia @h0neybane @viperbunnies @linabirb @thehollowwriter @wafflethewitchboy @siphoklansan @jewelulu @skibidibabygirl @jadelover69 (ask me if you wanna be added/removed!)

Divider credits: @/cafekitsune and @/roseraris

[catholicfacade]

are you ever gonna post the whole fic u posted the wip of ? 🥺🥺

hiiii, so im still working on it :(( im a suuuper slow writer unfortunately and im genuinely like +10k words deep into just chapter one and its probably only halfway done !!! real slow burn enjoyers rise !!! i might end up splitting chapter one into two parts because of this, i appreciate everyones patience who's cared about my work thus far !!! i know it's not what you want but i'll post another snippet since it is wip wednesday ! i hope you enjoy it in the meantime🤍 -ego⋆♱✮

WIP

pairing: joost klein x f! OC

content: RPF!!!, yearning, pining, slow burn, miscommunication, angst, anxiety, insecurity, val is so sensitive

word count: 2.4k

authors note: still chapter one except things are not so happy rn and they wont be for a while after this :(( my first wip 🤍

It shouldn’t sting, but it does.

Valentine has tried to brush off the moments of painful self-awareness where it’s clear, at least to her, she doesn’t entirely fit in here. All of these new friends in her life are nice! An unexpected but welcome addition to life in The Netherlands. But sometimes, it is so excruciatingly obvious she is not as welcome in their lives as they are in hers. She tries not to feel guilty about being the introvert in a group full of extraverts, it just always hits her so hard at the worst times.

Some nights the conversations are easily flowing, Stuntje, Appie, Lyon, and Daan telling stories, upon stories, upon stories of crazy things the group has done together. Joost is of course standing a little too close to Val for her liking, she can smell his cologne and his cigarettes, it’s making her light headed in the best way. He’s smiling so brightly at his friends, his arm nearly grazing Val’s every time he doubles over with laughter. And then all of a sudden the conversation switches to Dutch and Val gets thrown off, she can maybe understand half of it, but she feels so lost all of a sudden, like she disappeared. Then she feels guilty about feeling guilty, understanding that she is the only non-Dutchie standing amongst this group of people. Of course they’re all going to speak Dutch together. It wouldn’t be fair to make them speak English.

And yet there’s this unavoidable wave of loneliness that washes over her whenever it happens. It’s isolating to be standing amongst friends who are so deep into a story, laughing together, nodding and smiling at one another, while Valentine is forgotten, sometimes even unintentionally pushed out of the circle, doing her best to sneak away quietly to hide in the bathroom. It’s childish, she thinks, to be on the verge of crying because no one is talking to her. It’s selfish to think she’s invisible. But she feels like an intruder in these peoples lives, suddenly aware of how much she doesn’t understand about them. Maybe will never get to understand about them.

When Valentine goes home early, she feels like she’s just doing what’s best to mitigate this awkward situation. She tries to collect herself in the bathroom, swallowing that empty feeling down as far as it will go and walks back out with a fresh excuse made to end the night early. It’s always work, “I just remembered I have a blouse that needs stitching,” or “April needs me in the store early tomorrow, gotta go sorry.” It was only a matter of time before someone caught on that this was her only way of getting out of things, and it was only a matter of time before they stopped caring to have her around. She just wished it wasn’t Joost who would make it so obvious.

Standing all togther in their private section of the club, Apson is in the middle of telling a story about how he almost got beat up for filming a tik tok in front of some guys store, “I tried to say, ‘it’s for a video, it’s for a video’, but he kept cursing at me in Romanian, man! I put my hands up, right?” He recreates the gesture, “I said ‘I do it for tik tok, you ever heard of tik tok, man?’ And he went berserk!”

Everyone begins losing it over the way Appie starts mimicking the store owner’s yelling. Joost seems like he can hardly breathe he’s laughing so hard! As Valentine stands directly next to Joost, she can’t help but sneak a few looks at him, the way his whole face expresses joy, it lights up instantly, there’s no emotion he could try and hide on that face. She thinks it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. His laugh is so genuinely infectious. The butterflies she feels in her stomach flutter, happy that Apson is the star of the show right now so no one can see her stealing glances at Joost every couple of seconds.

After a minute everyone begins to calm down, including Apson who even managed to make himself laugh super hard. Something in Val’s memory clicks for her as she speaks up, “I guess that’s why you had to get permission from April, huh? Didn’t want her to beat you up?”

“Jesus, Val—” Joost genuinely seems taken aback by her presence, brows lifted and eyes widened as he turns to her, “You’re still here? You’re so quiet—I thought you would’ve left hours ago!” He looks immediately to his friends who laugh in loud validation at Valentine’s expense. Joost laughs the hardest of them all.

Is that really it then? She’s so insignificant to him he hasn’t even realized she’s been standing next to him the entire time? No one even bothers to acknowledge what she said. They just keep laughing as Joost starts telling them another story of his own.

Val feels weak, the cup in her hand suddenly weighing 20 pounds, her knees are wobbling. Alanis is the only one not laughing, she catches Valentines eye and gives her a soft, sympathetic smile, probably having suffered some burns herself at some point, being the only girl in the friend group. Val smiles back, though the feeling of smiling is currently foreign to her, she’s just going through the motions.

Once Alanis looks away, Val slips away from the group quietly, grabbing her bag and her coat, heading out the door as quickly as possible without full on running.

The deep January freezing temperatures hit her like a ton of bricks but maybe it’s what she needs…or deserves. Fucking Joost—she thinks to herself. Valentine starts walking in the direction of her apartment.

Why did she have to feel so drawn to him? They clearly have nothing in common. He clearly doesn’t even think about her. She is this invisible little thing to him. Fuck fuck fuck Joost! Why does she care so much about him? It shouldn’t matter anyway, it was just a joke. She’s being such a sensitive little bitch about everything. And now all of her “friends” are going to think she’s super weird and melodramatic for leaving like that. If they can even be bothered to notice she’s gone that is.

Tears prick her eyes as she tries to blink them away, to no avail, they fall, freezing almost instantly on her face, leaving her so unbearably cold. It happens the entire walk home. Valentine is genuinely freezing half to death by the time she makes it back to her apartment. She sighs deeply once inside, cupping her face in her hands. Her teeth are chattering, her fingertips are frozen, and so are her cheeks, the tears she cried having turned into little flecks of ice.

Her body barely has enough strength to strip herself of her frosty clothing and run herself a bath, but she somehow manages it. Sitting against the edge of the bathtub, running the hot water, Valentine reaches into her discarded bag and takes out her phone. Battery dead. Oh well. It will have to wait until after her bath to be charged. It’s not like she stupidly believes anyone will reach out anyway, she’ll never get her hopes up like that ever again. It ends up forgotten on top of the pile of clothes now adorning the bathroom floor. 

-

“—daarna boekte ik altijd mijn eigen optredens!” [after that I always booked my own gigs] Joost nods while finishing his story, Appie and Stuntje laugh, Daan shakes his head, and Alanis has gone off somewhere.

“Heyyy jongens,” Stuntje calls out suddenly, “Who wants another round~?” He says in a sing-song tone while shaking his empty cup.

“I need one, man.” Daan says.

Appie shakes his head, “Ik ga naar huis. Waar is Alanis?” [I’m going home. Where is Alanis?] Appie walks away toward the bathroom, the other three guys just shrug at each other.

“A drink, Joost?” Stuntje asks, pointing to Joosts cup.

“Nee, man.” Joost shakes his head, swirling around his cup which sits half-full.

Daan and Stuntje head to the bar leaving Joost by himself in their section. A familiar, lingering sweetness in the air makes his lip twitch unconsciously into a smile, only one person enters his mind now that he’s alone. Joost searches for Valentine in her usual places, he wants to have a good sit down with her, watch her eyes light up when he gives her all the attention in the world—completely undivided now, he wants to hear her laugh because he hasn’t heard that sweet noise even once tonight! He wants to casually throw an arm around her and watch her blush, offer her a friendly rub on the arm as he innocently tucks her closer to his chest. But Valentine’s not sitting at the table or on the couch, she’s not standing in her corner or getting a drink at the bar. Joost furrows his brows, she couldn’t be on the dance floor could she? He strains his eyes trying to search the jumping crowd from afar but there’s absolutely no sign of that fiery head of hair anywhere.

Joost stares into the crowd of moving bodies for a while and then looks down at his watch, barely a few minutes past 10pm, where could she be? Out of the corner of his eye he catches Alanis coming back to grab her bag.

“Hey, is Valentine still in the bathroom or something?” Joost asks.

Alanis frowns slightly as she swings her purse over her shoulder, “She went home, Joost. I think your little comment made her feel stupid, she looked upset.”

“What?” Joosts heart nearly stops beating. He’s genuinely confused. “But I was joking…why would she leave?”

Alanis shrugs, “She never says anything, and that was the first time she decided to speak up, and you really embarrassed her for it.”

Joost goes red in the face, blinking rapidly, realizing that he had unintentionally probably fucked up Valentines entire night by humiliating her. And that was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Shit.” He breathes out, a weight crushing his chest.

“You coming?” Appie calls to Alanis from outside of the section, loud music still pumping through the club even though it feels like mere noise to Joost right now.

“Ja!” Alanis yells back, reaching out and giving Joost a squeeze to the arm, “You didn’t mean it and I’m sure she’ll get over it.” She tries to cheer him up but Joost only replies with a weak nod. “Goodnight Joost.”

“Night Alanis.” Joost watches her walk away and he waves one last time to Appie as the two head home.

-

Exhaustion. It hits Valentine so hard. Her eyes feel so heavy it hurts. The hot water still stings her previously frozen flesh, that hurts too. And so does her head. The image of Joosts face haunting her, replaying back his words and his laughter, the shocked look in his eyes when he acknowledged her…it almost looked like he’d never seen her before. Valentine cringes physically, shoulders coming up close to her ears, she hugs her knees to her chest and hides her face as though it’s all happening again. The water splashes around her with her repetitive movements as she rocks back and forth. She just wants the laughing to stop.

And she wants Joost to disappear.

She stays like that until her body can no longer bare still being awake. Her obsessive, circling thoughts have turned her brain to mush. And everything that happens after her bath goes by in a haze. But at least she’s warm.

The last thing Valentine does is fumble in the dark for her phone charger, slipping it into her phone before instantly passing out in her bed. Not a single thought passes through her mind that someone would want to call her tonight. She easily falls asleep feeling forgotten.

-

Stuntje and Daan have gotten into a heated conversation over at the bar, drinks sitting forgotten in front of them as they drunkly converse loudly with the guy sitting next to them. Joost is now completely alone in the section, heat still sitting under his face and heart still beating wearily.

He goes and sits in his usual spot, right next to where Valentine would usually be this time of night. He looks at the empty space next to him and realizes again that he’s been so stupid with his mouth when he hadn’t meant to be. If only Valentine could know that her absence is being noticed, more than that, it’s hurting him. Joost is alone. Friends are not far away, but he feels more alone now than ever. He hurt the girl he’s been admiring for months, she should be here, she should feel like she belongs, that she isn’t going to be embarrassed because she’s different, that she isn’t going to be made fun of by some stupid Dutch guy that’s actually so enamored with her.

It’s a cold night, snowing, she was definitely wearing a skirt…and heels. Joost is sick to his stomach, he pulls out his phone and quickly pulls up Valentines contact, their previous messages flashing in Joosts eyes, filled with brief small-talk, niceties, and nothing more.

22:18

J: Did you leave? :(

J: Sorry if I said something wrong. Really didn’t mean it.

J: Please call me.

J: I just want to know if you got home safe, I’m worried :(

J: I’m really really sorry Valentine.

--delivered--

Joost watches his screen for any sign of Valentine reading his messages, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly, he re-reads his own words over and over again, wondering if it’s too forward—not that he really cares actually—his stomach is twisted with anxiousness and nothing could stop it unless Valentine called him.

Joost hates waiting more than anything so five minutes passing, watching that little delivered icon never change, it feels like a fucking lifetime. He has to step out to smoke and standing there in the heavy snowfall just makes him feel even worse. The cigarette barely eases his mind so he tries to call Val. No answer. There’s not much more he can do, he assumes she really hates him now, and he just wants to know if she’s okay.

Reaching the last long drag of his cigarette confirms his decision, tomorrow if Valentine still hasn’t replied, he will go to April’s store and check on her in person.

[mariesbee]

why can't i enjoy things like a normal person? casually, just a few episodes/chapters here and there, then move on with my life. but no, whatever it is, it worms its way into my brain, consumes my thoughts and it slowly drives me insane. i am unable to think about anything else but the Thing of the week, or month, sometimes year(s) if it gets that bad.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[celestialecho]

🌦️&💤

on childhood best friends.

via ill give you the sun by jandy nelson // via the art of ponyo by hayao miyazaki // jack johnson, we're going to be friends // a message from my childhood best friend // mitski, i guess // via a little life by hanya yanagihara // adventure time, island song (come along with me) // via unknown // abba, chiquitita

[kyouka-supremacy]

That fic from Akutagawa's pov that remarked how although Dazai had left a bomb under Chuuya's car, at least that showed he had thought about him before going, while he never cared enough to spare a thought for Akutagawa.

[doueverwonder]

Indiana became a state in 1816 aka the Year Without Summer; and while it didn't become a state until December of that year I will be using this for 2 wttt Indiana hc;

A. Indy is always cold, main reason he's the premier hoodie thief in the statehouse.

B. because it was such a horrid year for crops Indiana, who I think was about ten physically when he *popped* into existence, spent their first while on the planet rationing food & regularly going to bed hungry. This developed his lovely habit of hoarding food, and being the worst offender when it comes to the "you're not leaving the table til you've cleaned your plate". None of these habits were helped by the fact that (according to me) he was raised by Virginia who is the same way because of the Starving Time.

[fatedvoyage]

would you still love me if i never remember the proper use of ferelden vs fereldan

[bobomcfoe]

Had a dream where I got a borzoi and named it dvd normal

[zaacoy]

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAYYY!!!!

my valentines gift to everyone this year is freenoodles, enjoy :3

[skeletalheartattack]

so for like, a decade plus, i've been searching for a youtube video i remember seeing back in 2007, and i've finally managed to make some headway:

good news: i've found it

bad news: it's lost media

[follineo]

UUUUGHGGHGHGHGH,,,,

[feralattentionwhore]

.