#'you did an experiment together and now have to make separate reports but you are allowed to help one another'

[carcarrot]

its important to go see a low stakes concert sometimes

[il3x]

the interaction of my current Character Rotation with my actual life has resulted in the take: "shadow stalker would accept lower efficiency on a semi-collaborative project if it meant everyone could just split up and handle their own parts earlier. glory girl would wrangle the group into collaboration if it killed her"

[hanahaki-disease]

And You Wonder What I Believe

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“When Tim looked over to his best friend, now adoptive brother, whose made of lean muscle and gangly limbs of a growing fourteen year old boy much like him, he wonders if he would have done the same. Would he have kept it all a secret from everyone if he knew it would save them? Would he try and keep the two worlds separate because only disaster can come from them meeting?”

To further enhance your reading experience, go and read “You? You!” and “Sing Sweet, Nightingale”

A/N: this installment is like 8,000 words…I did not plan for it to be that long

*******************************************

When it comes to Percy, Tim tries not to pry. Not even after their argument when Percy returned the first time.

The first time Percy disappeared, Tim had no control and no way to help. He hadn’t even begun to train as Robin, hadn’t confronted Bruce about him being Batman, and had been in the middle of a gala when he heard the news.

Percy’s first disappearance was the one of the many reasons that made Tim push harder to become Robin, especially when he had called Dick to let him know about the news. Because Robin was able to help the justice league look for the missing Wayne child. Robin had access to information Tim Drake couldn’t see. He knew that the New York police department didn’t even follow proper protocols when it came to the search, he knew that a gang messed with the footage of the gas station explosion because one of their members had been spotted as part of the passengers.

The second time Percy disappeared, Tim was watching Percy escape the school with the weird tall kid and a girl he had never seen before from the other side of the gym doors. The entrance blocked by some kind of debris and the gym was absolutely wrecked when the first responders had been able to get in.

Tim wanted to follow him, he wanted to make sure Percy was going to be okay and not vanish off the face of the earth for months on end again. He wanted to drag him to one of the many emergency cave and interrogate him, keep him there till Bruce joined them, and continue to question him. Tim wanted to know what had happened to his best friend, and he hates that it felt like they weren’t anymore.

Percy had been his first friend, his first real friend since the younger of the two got adopted by the Batman. Their sarcastic personalities clicking together like link-n-logs, becoming brothers the moment Percy suck up on him on that rooftop. They used to be able to tell each other anything. Nonsense about their current shared brain rot, secret crushes about the girls and boys in the middle and high schools. They would laugh at the gaudily dressed women in the galas, banter with Jason and Alfred for hours on end—Percy knew Tim better than Tim knew himself, and he knew Percy better than anyone in the world.

So why did it seem like the Percy stuffing his duffle was someone Tim had never known before?

Why was he so okay to drop everything he was doing the moment that random girl showed up at the manor? How did she show up at the manor, how did she get past the security triggers and over the seven foot tall gate? None of this was making sense and Tim had been growing worried for Percy ever since he came back two years ago.

He had come back home a bit more reserved than before, a bit more angrier like how Dick had been when he found out Jason died. New scars littered his body, ones that were never reported in his files about how he had gotten them. There was an air of knowledge around him, one with matching chains of secrecy that dragged his limbs down and pulled him away from getting too close with Dick or Tim again.

Something happened to Percy on the first summer away, and it happened again this past summer and now—not even four months later—Tim was watching Percy change before his eyes.

“You—You can’t go! What about Dick? What about Bruce and Alfred?” Tim eyes followed Percy as he ran around his room, grabbing what seemed to be the most random things to put in his bag.

“Dick is said he’d be back in January, he’s on a mission with the Titans to find clone Roy,” Percy said. “And Bruce could give less of a shit if I disappeared and came back.” He zipped up one side of the bag. They must’ve fought recently for him to say that, about what? Tim doesn’t know, but it couldn’t have been good. “I will feel bad about Alfred though.”

“And I’m going whether you like it or not, Tim,” he slung duffle on his shoulder walking out the room. “Nothing you say or do will not make me go. I have to do this.”

“If you go, I’m following,” Tim said.

“No, you’re not coming with me.”

“Then you’re not leaving Percy!” Tim said. “I’m tired of you disappearing every summer. Do you know how worried we all get when you do that?! No, you don’t, cause you’re not here!” He ran his hand through his hair, pulling at the roots. “God, just tell me what’s going on! I can help you, B can help you!”

“I can’t tell you, I wish I could, but I can’t.” Percy pushed past Tim towards the main stairs.

“Why not? Why can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt, okay?” Percy dropped his duffle on the edge of the stairs. He made eye contact with the girl downstairs before Percy turned his attention back to Tim. “I’m doing this to protect you, to protect all of you. This is something Batman has no chance with and even if he did, it’s not his fight. I need to do this to make sure you guys are safe.”

“And what do you think the rest of us are doing every night, huh? Playing hopscotch with Penguin and having tea parties with Scarecrow?” Tim said. “We get hurt already, hell, you’re there to help Alfred patch us up! I just…” Tim sighed. So many words were bubbling up in his chest to the point where he was beginning to feel overwhelmed by all the emotions in him.

He wanted Percy to understand that he didn’t need to do whatever it is that he’s doing by himself. Percy had so many people that could help him with the ‘fight’ he has been doing the past two years. And if he didn’t want Bruce, then Dick would do anything for him. He didn’t want Dick? No worries there’s the entirety of the justice league and their associates. Percy could literally have his pick of the litter for help and yet he’s choosing to go solo?

God.

For someone who doesn’t like Bruce much nowadays, he’s acting an awful lot like him.

“I just want my best friend back, Perce,” Tim felt his shoulders drop. The heat of his worry and anger fading and leaving him exhausted. “I want to know how to help you.”

It was quiet between them for a bit, neither of them wanting to break the fragile silence that settled in the hall. Tim could feel his heart pounding in his chest and tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t often he cried. The emotion was too overpowering and draining, not cathartic like most people say it is. He cried at his mother’s funeral, he cried when he and Percy had their first real argument, and before that? He couldn’t remember, each time he wanted to curl up under the covers of his bed and follow Percy’s lead and disappear for a while.

He couldn’t stop them from falling when Percy carefully wrapped him up in his arms. “I want my best friend back too, but I have to go.” Tim nodded against Percy’s shoulder before the younger separated, the soft shuffling of feet made their way back down the hall to where the duffle sat at the edge of the stairs.

Tim didn’t stop Percy as he made his way down the stairs. Didn’t stop him when he zipped up his winter coat and slung the duffle over his shoulders. He didn’t move from his spot at the bottom of the stairs, one hand holding onto the rail as he grabbed one set of the keys to the front door, shoving them and his favorite gold Bic pen in his pocket.

“When I get back,” Percy held down the latch to the door handle. The cold Gotham air wafting into the foyer and chilling Tim to the bone. “I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Ten words and the sound of the door closing left Tim frozen in his place. He wanted to shove his boots on and his coat and trail after him down the drive way. He wanted to join him in whatever he had to do, whatever was so important that he had to miss the next few weeks or months or however long.

But Percy promised him that he would tell him, Tim had his word. Percy never broke his promises.

—

A week later, looking as if he had just went against Bane in nothing but the clothes on his back, Percy stumbled into Tim’s room. The duffle he had was gone and the clothes he wore were not the same, except for his Reebok, though they had seen better days. Dark circles lined his eyes and he looked paler than he did when he left. Even during the winter months, Percy retained this sun-kissed, beach side tan. It was a warm glow that, alongside the permanent sea salt waves, made it looked like he had been raised on the shores of the Caribbean his whole life. He did not look like that when he walked in.

A bright shock of white was the first thing Tim noticed about Percy when he collapsed at the side of his bed. It still had his signature wave to it, starting at his temple and curving around and through the curls already there. For as well has he knew Percy, he knows that he wasn’t really into dying his hair. Percy liked keeping it the same length and not really doing much to it, aside from styling it for the occasional gala or press release. So then why the white streak?

“Percy?” He watched as his friend ran his hands through his hair, interlocking his fingers behind him and tucked his head in between his knees. There was a tenseness to him, one that—even if he was in one of the most secure places in the world—wouldn’t relax.

When he turned his head toward him, there was a different kind of tiredness in his eyes. A kind of defeated but accepted kind of tiredness. His green eyes were duller than they had been before he left and he sported new scars once again. Faded white lines on his hands and one that down across his jaw from the end of his ear. Percy sucked in a deep breath when he placed his head back where it had been, unclasped his hand and leaned back against the bed.

Tucked under the new gray hoodie and rumbled orange shirt was the leather necklace Percy had started wearing after that initial summer. It had only one bead then, a solid black charm and a glowing blue trident in the center. It was cool at first. The little symbol and the faint light it emitted in the dark, Tim really wanted to inspect it. But then another was added onto the string the following summer. Just like the other, it was a simple sandy-beige colored bead with a pine tree and something gold hanging off the branch. The gold glowed like the tridents, if not brighter in the dark of Tim’s room and it let him see the most recent addition to the necklace.

It wasn’t a bead like the other two, a metal bow and arrow charm with accentuated star shaped corners rested on the neckline of the shirt. Silver and shiny and brand-new, unlike the worn and handmade beads he head. Did they mean something to him? Where had he gotten them? Percy never took it off, wanting the necklace to stay on his persona at all times. Which wasn’t that strange to be honest. Bruce had a particular watch he was fond of when he wasn’t Batman, Dick had his favorite blue studded earrings he never took off, and Tim had his mother’s wedding band hung around his neck too. But, just like his hair, Percy was never one to wear jewelry. He never like having anything around his wrists or around his neck because he would get overwhelmed by the constant rubbing against his skin and neck.

So then why the necklace all of a sudden?

“Where should I start?” Percy said, picking at the skin on his fingers in front of him.

“The beginning, I guess,” Tim closed his laptop, wanting to give Percy his full attention.

“Can you promise not to tell anyone unless I say so? What I’m going to tell you is gonna change how you see everything, even the Amazonians,” Percy turned his head.

“I promise,” Tim slid down to the floor beside him.

Percy nodded his head and sighed, the words heavy in his chest before he even began, “It started with mine and Jason’s dad. Our actual dad.” He locked his fingers together again. “He met our mom seventeen years ago on the beach in Montauk, New York. A summer fling that left my mom pregnant with Jason, and he said that they would go back to the beach for the summers before I was born.

“Jason said that he’s only seen our dad twice before I was born,” He held up two fingers. “The first he said was a fuzzy memory when he was three, and then during the summer the year I was born. After that, he never saw the guy again. We kept going to Montauk till I was three, our mom died in November that year when we were passing through Gotham and Jason and I never left. That’s when Catherine and Willis found us and picked us up.” Percy gave him a quick glance at that. “You already know what happened after that.”

Tim nodded his head quietly. Percy had told him about his years living with Catherine and on the streets. The days in a ratty old apartment, smelling like cigarette smoke, burning crack and moldy walls. Where water leaked from the ceiling and his and Jason’s shared mattress was the same one Catherine shot up heroine. It wasn’t all to different from their years on the streets, they still had to forage for their own meals and take care of themselves when Catherine was too high to even remember her name and Willis was in prison. But at least with them, they had a roof over their head and place to hide from the winter.

He hadn’t known about his birth mother though.

Percy and Jason never talked about her or how they ended up in Gotham. They didn’t even tell Bruce either. All the information they had about her was whatever Bruce dug up when he took them in. Her name was Sally Jackson, a single mother of two boys living in a somewhat bad part of New York, working at a candy shop a few bus stops away from her apartment. She didn’t have a college degree since she had to drop out after her uncle got cancer, and she didn’t have her parents since they did in a plane crash when she was still in middle school.

It was the bare bones information that Bruce could get and it was the only information he had about their biological family. After Percy disappeared, Bruce had tried to dig up his birth father, wondering if maybe he had taken Percy when he had gone to the Met. Maybe the man had seen his son, wanted him back, and took him while he was with his school. But no matter how much Bruce dug, there was nothing. No name, no description, no age. It was as if the guy never existed. He had to, though, otherwise his two sons wouldn’t exist.

“Two years ago, during the field trip to the Met, I had been isolated from the group by the substitute algebra teacher Mrs. Dodds,” Percy said and Tim looked at his with a confused stare.

“There was no Mrs. Dodds in middle school, though,” Tim countered. “I would know, I have an eidetic memory.”

“No you wouldn’t have and let me tell you why,” Percy turned to face him, his hands outstretched before him. “This is the mortal world—” He gestured with on hand. “This is where you and ninety-nine percent of the earth’s population reside. You see things how they are in your head pretty straight forwards. A dog is a dog, a person is a person—unless they’re an alien—and so on and so forth, right?” Tim nodded. “This is…this is my world.” He lifted the other hand. “In my world, I see things that you cant. Dogs aren’t always dogs, people aren’t always people, and natural phenomenon is not caused by science, but by magic. The barrier between these two is what we call the ‘mist.”

“Missed?”

“M-I-S-T. Mist. It’s a magical barrier that blind the mortals from the mythical and magical monsters and people. The Amazonians are a part of my world, they can see what I can see, they can fight what I can fight, but since they’ve been so isolated to the world of man, they’re unable to see past the mist now that it’s gotten stronger since ancient times,” Percy said. “The point is—The gods are real.”

“Like, like Jesus?”

“No, not Jesus,” Percy clarified. “The Greek gods. Zeus, Artemis, Hades—they’re all real.” Distant thunder made Tim’s head turn towards the window.

“But they’re just stories, myths!” Tim leaned back on his hands. “They can’t be real and you’re just making this up.”

“If they’re not real, how is Diana the daughter of Zeus? How are the Amazonians able to live on an isolated island in the middle of the Mediterranean sea, protected by magic? How is Shazam able to channel the ‘Speed of Hermes’ and the ‘Strength of Zeus?” Percy questioned.

Tim stayed quiet. “I don’t know!”

“They can do that because the gods are real. My dad, Jason’s dad, is Poseidon, god of the sea,” Percy said. “I didn’t know that until that summer two years ago.”

He turned around to lay back against the bed again, and eyes trained on the old skateboard mounted on Tim’s wall. The words were hesitant at first, tongue stumbling and stuttering as he recall that first summer. He told him of how the cab they paid had gotten stuck by lightning, flipped and burst into flames on an abandoned back-road. How the glass dug into his skin, the heat of the fire singing the hair on his forearms, and the cold rain digging into his bones and blinding him.

There was a smirk on his face as he spoke about the first monster he defeated. The Minotaur from the legends. He was big, apparently, seven feet tall, four feet wide at his shoulders, and just a mass of coarse bull hair and bright, white fruit of the loom underwear. Tim couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips at the mental image. The monster of the labyrinth? With tidy-whities?

His smile remained as Percy spoke about camp. The automatic camaraderie from the campers who just simply understood everything he had gone through and will experience. The children of the Hermes cabin, those claimed and unclaimed, welcomed him with open arms, teaching him all that he needed to know about life at camp. And while the nights were lonely and filled with nightmares, they’d fade away the moment the morning conch woke them up and started their day.

“The Friday of my first week was when I got claimed by my dad in the most show-offy way, I swear,” Percy chuckled as he threw his pen towards the cup on the other end of the room. They had been getting restless as they talked, Percy especially. He had taken to messing with anything he could get his hands on, a spare wheel for Tim’s current skateboard, the aglets of Percy’s laces, the gold Bic pen Percy always had.

“Claimed? What’s that?” Tim asked and launched his pink highlighter at the cup. “Is that like when a hospital does a paternity test for the baby or something?”

“Kinda,” Percy threw a pencil. “It’s when a god acknowledges their kids. It tells the camp and the other gods and monsters that you are their kid and, thus, have their powers or are a threat.” Percy fist bumped the air when his pencil landed in the cup, he was able to go again. “Sometimes the gods don’t claim their kids, they arrive at camp and they just stay in the Hermes cabin waiting for the day. Other kids get claimed shortly after arriving, but from what I heard that’s pretty rare.”

“Why the Hermes cabin, I though you said only kids of that god could stay in the cabin?”

“Hermes is the god of travelers, so he protects wanderers and stuff,” Percy dropped his arms against his lap. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked more annoyed than angry, if his tight voice was anything to go by. “The camp abuses that fact and shoves all the unclaimed kids in there and that’s not fair to the actual kids of Hermes and the unclaimed kids.” He throws another pencil towards the cup, watching it bounce way as it missed it’s target. “And you’d think the gods would be better with stuff like that, right? They’re gods, all mighty and all knowing, but they don’t even do the bare minimum of claiming their kids? It’s stupid.”

Tim stayed quiet as Percy continued his tale, offering comments and questions as it wore on. It felt unreal, what he had gone through at the age of twelve. (As if Tim was doing any better back then either, he was packing his bags to go a train in Paris to be Robin, so he really wasn’t one to judge.) It made the manhunt and new reports make sense too. The bus explosion was because a fury, the St Louis arch was a Chimera, and Percy was the reason zoo animals had been released in Las Vegas.

It all seemed like an impossible story, a modern Greek myth. Right down to the stages of “the hero’s journey” literature lesson. Tim had been told that there was magic that keep him blind to Percy’s world, the awesomeness of it all too much for him to comprehend. But he can imagine it pretty well. He can picture a younger Percy in his head surrounded by kids in the same bright orange shirts he was wearing, going ham on straw dummies in a Colosseum like the one in Rome. He can imagine the stone statues of the innocent lives Medusa captures, the souls in the fields of asphodel and the gems that sparkled on the food of the underworld.

He might not have been blessed with sight, but he does have a pretty good imagination.

Percy’s trip out the Bermuda triangle last years was even more impossible than the year before. First, the big kids in the gym class were Laistrygonians and Tyson was a baby cyclops and Percy’s half-brother. Which, what? How does that make sense?

“Cyclops are mainly children of Poseidon and some kind of nymph or naiad,” Percy had switched from throwing writing utensils at Tim’s empty tea mug, to trying to perfecting his batarang throw with the spares Tim had in his room. And, yes, Tim knows he shouldn’t have them outside the cave. Though people didn’t come over unless it was a gala, Bruce and Alfred did not want it to become a habit to have anything cape related in the manor. But Tim was always careful when it came to stuff like that, Percy can vouch for him.

“Why? I don’t know, but I have a feeling it has to do with his title of ‘father of monsters,” Percy shrugged before landing one bullseye. For claiming he was a terrible shot with a bow at camp, Percy had good aim. He hit whatever targets they set up with pretty good accuracy and speed, only missing the dart board on Tim’s door once. Alfred will not be happy about that when he sees the edge sticking out in the hall. “Oh, and Polyphemus, the cyclops guarding the golden fleece, is my half-brother too. I stabbed him in the eye.”

“That’s gonna make thanksgiving dinners awkward,” Tim joked.

“They’re already awkward now,” Percy pointed out. “I really don’t want to know how that’d go. Jeez. I think they’d trade me for the turkey.”

Percy continued to talk about what he did besides stab his brother. And despite being told that he was the son of Poseidon, Tim didn’t really believe him. Like, yeah, sure, Percy told him that he had perfect nautical bearings while at sea and that he could control any sea vessel while it was on water. And in theory, Percy can control water. (which, what was the limit to that? Was it just water or was it anything that contained water? Could he move poisons and toxins? Can…Can Percy bend blood?) But there is no proof of Percy doing that anywhere near Tim and the manor, therefore: Pics or it didn’t happen.

But back to Percy’s story—the fleece had done what to the magic tree? It brought the dead girl back? A part of Tim wanted to call bullshit on that, because how did that work? It went against all laws of nature to bring people back from the dead after so many years of them being in the ground. Even if the reason was magical in nature, one does not simply bring the dead back to life. Surely there was consequences for doing that right? Would it attract the wrath of Hades or Thanatos or something?

“So if you only go on quests in the summer, why’d you leave last week?” Tim pried the batarang out of the targets, small pieces of his bookshelf being pried out with each one. Alfred was going to given them so many chores for destroying the furniture.

Tim watched as the light heartedness Percy had vanished as he sat on the ground once more, the widow in front of him, the bed at his back. His knees came up and his arms were laid over them like it had been when they had first started the conversation. One hand reached to fidget with the bow and arrow charm and the streak of white in his hair seemed to glow in the dark, catching Tim’s eye.

“Last Friday, Thalia came to get me because she heard from Grover that there were two demigods that needed to be taken to camp. He said their scents were strong, like mine and hers, and it was an all hands on deck situation,” Percy said, dropping the charm before he began to spin his pen as an alternative fidget. “Me, Thalia, and our friend Annabeth went to upstate New York where we met Nico and Bianca, later we find out that they’re children of Hades.”

“We tried to save them, but there was a problem.” Tim placed the weapons in their case, his focus mainly on Percy. “There was a manticore and so many monsters that the three of us were getting out numbered. Thankfully the hunters of Artemis were able to come in, but, we lost Annabeth.”

“What do you mean?”

“She tackled a monster down into a trench and went missing for the week, eventually we found her, but I had to go on the quest given to the leader of the hunters, Zoe.” He had that dull look in his eyes again. No doubt the memory replaying in his head. “Her quest was to save Artemis, who had also been missing the for the past month, and it lead her to Mt Tamalpais where Artemis and Annabeth had been held hostage by Atlas.”

Incredulously, Tim cocked his head as he made his way to sit next to Percy. “Atlas? The guy who hold up the sky?”

Percy nodded. “He was set free by Luke because Kronos told him to. He really wants his general to lead his army or something. Anyway, Luke took over the weight of the sky and Annabeth was placed under it to save Luke.”

“Why though? The guy sounds like a total asshole, no offense ,” Tim commented.

“Oh, no, he is an asshole,” Percy agreed. “Luke is like her big brother, them and Thalia had come to camp together and she looks up to him the way we do to Dick. But, Luke is angry at the gods. He hates that they don’t care about us and wants them to fall so Kronos can take over, he doesn’t realize though that once Kronos gets his way, Luke’ll be thrown away like yesterday’s trash, ya’know?”

Tim nodded. He understood where Luke was coming from, after all, his own parents didn’t really care for him that much anyway. He knew they loved him, he knew they cared…in their own…special way. But he can’t imagine wanting his parents’ downfall because they weren’t there for Christmas every year. It was as if he summoned Trigon to smite them because they didn’t go to his third grade recital.

“Back to the story,” Percy said. “Once they got Annabeth to mt Tamalpais, He used the affection that she still had for him to have her take the weight instead. I think she was there for almost a whole day before they brought in Artemis. Eventually Artemis switched with Annabeth because she could last longer than a demigod, and also because she’s a maiden goddess of women. She’s gonna want to protect her as best as she can.

“Luke also knew that I would go where ever Annabeth was because, besides you, she’s my other best friend.” Percy rubbed the back of his neck and Tim smirked. Even in the dark of the night, with only the light of his singular lamp to light the room, Tim could see the tips of his ears turn a bit pink

He liked her, he just doesn’t want to admit it yet. Tim will file that information away for black mail for later.

“So by having her and Artemis there, Luke was using them as bait?” Percy nodded.

“Kronos wants me to be his meat suit,” he admitted. “Since I’m a child of his strongest children, I’ll be able to withstand the sheer amount of power that comes with hosting a titan. Especially since with my powers I basically control seventy percent of the earth, I can cause hurricanes that devastate the ground, and earthquakes to strong I could sink the Philippines.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting.” Tim nodded his head. Okay, maybe he didn’t want Percy to prove it. Like, it’d be cool for him to make the ground move a little, or raise the entirety of the pool water in the back gardens. But if he uses too much power? If he looses control? Tim doesn’t want to be the reason the docks get over flooded and the bridges collapse, even if it wasn’t him who did it. “How’d you guys get to there anyway? It took you a while to get across country on your first…quest, so wouldn’t it have taken you the same amount of time this time around?”

“You’d think but, we had more help this time,” Percy began explain how he made it across the county in a week. First he flew on Pegasus horseback, then boarded a magic train that took him to Colorado. While there he rode a magic boar that took him to Death Valley.

Percy paused once he got there though, the flow of words coming to an abrupt halt and an apprehensive bob of his Adam’s apple. It was clear that something shifted in Percy after that night. A realization of some kind, an acceptance to a truth and a guilt chaining him where he sat. Still, Percy continued on. His hands holding tight to his arms as they crossed atop his knees, the pen long forgotten somewhere on the floor.

First he described the sky, how the stars were so bright and every constellation made their appearance. He was able to trace Gemini and Corvus, point to where the little dipper ended at Polaris. Tim had never known a clear night sky like that, be he can imagine it. All the stars glittering without the smog and lights of the city to dim them.

“We got stuck in the desert for a bit though, in one of Hephaestus’s junkyards,” He held tighter to himself. “It would have taken longer to go around and we didn’t have the time for that, so we went through it. It was cool at first. All the machines and weapons and trinkets, you would’ve had a blast. But we didn’t know there was a giant mech made to protect the stuff.

“One of us had grabbed something and it woke. We tried everything, no one took anything, or at least we didn’t think anyone took anything” Percy rested his cheek against his arms and Tim could see his eyes grow glossy. Tears springing up and threatening to spill as he spoke.

“We lost Bianca, Nico’s sister,” Percy whispered as a tear made its way down his cheek into the sleeves of his jacket. Just like Tim, Percy wasn’t one to cry much. Preferring to express himself in solitude of his room or one of the various hideouts he had in the manor. Last Time he saw Percy really let his emotions go was when Jason died. Tim heard his voice grow hoarse with his cries, his face red and eyes puffy from crying.

Now that he’s thinking about it, Tim remembers the weather being all weird during Jason’s funeral. Small earthquakes rippled through Gotham for a while, rattling the glass of every window and nearly collapsing a few old buildings. The water in the harbor rose higher, the boats in the bay nearly capsizing. Not to mention the hurricanes that devastated a few cities in the south, the record high waves in the ocean.

Was that Percy doing that? Was it him and his father grieving the loss of a brother and son?

“And I…I promised Nico that I’d keep her safe—” He dropped his head, arms reach over his head to pull at his hair. Tim could hear his sniffles, the stuttering breaths that kept him from pulling in a full breath. “I told him that I would bring her back to camp, but she—she sacrificed herself to make sure the rest of us didn’t die there.”

Percy lifted his head and wiped at his tears, trying to could himself together. “Gods, he was so angry with me.” Percy said. “He hates me now, ran off and we can’t find him now. But I promised him that I’d keep her safe. I promised that she would come back!”

“You did what you could, Perce,” Tim sat closer to Percy, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He’ll be honest, he wasn’t the best when it came to comforting someone under emotional distress. The most he can do is a stiff pat on the shoulder and a robotic “there, there.” But he has to do something to help the guy, he can’t just leave him to wallow in guilt and anger like Bruce tends to do six days out of the week. “You protected her until she had to protect you, that’s how it goes sometimes. Especially in our lives.”

“I know, but I just wished Nico hadn’t run away,” he sniffled, wiping the tears off his cheeks. “He’s a son of Hades, monsters are going to be after him and he’s only ten. He can’t fight. He wasn’t in camp long enough to know how to defend himself. I just—“ he cleared his throat. “I just don’t want to be the reason something bad happens to him. He left the one place that safe for kids like us because I got his sister killed.”

There was a lull of silence between them and Tim could feel the guilt weight down heavy on Percy. He didn’t like that all of this has happened to him, hates that they’re only fourteen and already they have lost so much. Tim understands what Percy’s going through, he knows how the chains of guilt and regret feel around his limbs. Because how many lives could have been saved if Tim was just that much faster? If he was that much smarter? How many parents could have lived to see their children get married, graduate college, or even celebrate the next Christmas with them? How many kids will never go to school again, never see their friends or family, never age? All because Tim couldn’t save them in time.

Dick explained the guilt that come attached to this life, of knowing that they had the power to save them, but they couldn’t. He told him that every person they couldn’t save was another link on the chain. Dick also told him that, while they should be upset they couldn’t help them, their death shouldn’t hold them back. Yes, it was tragic. Yes, it’s good to feel guilty and sad and angry that they couldn’t do more. But he couldn’t let it consume him, Tim can’t let their deaths keep him from saving every one else.

A few more moments passed, and Percy’s breaths were even again. His voice still had that post-cry warble to them, no doubt the lump in his throat the cause for that, and his eyes were red and puffy from the cry. “When we got to the mountain, we found out that Zoe is one of Atlas’s daughters. She lost her place as one of the Pleiades because she helped Heracles in the ancient times and got banished, joined the hunters to avoid men and protect women since she couldn’t go back.

“There was a big fight between us and Atlas and Luke,” Percy said. “Zoe needed Artemis’s help to stop Atlas, Annabeth and Thalia were preoccupied with Luke and his minions, but she was still holding up the sky. If she dropped it, it would crash against the earth and kill us all.”

“Did you hold it for her?” Percy nodded. “Is that how you got the…?”

“Demigods who hold up the sky are given the streak of white as a trophy, that they were strong enough to not be crushed by its weight and understand the prison in which Atlas is chained to,” Percy said turning his head so that Tim could see it. Like some kind of magic anime girl, the streak of white seemed to glow in the moonlight. A silvery tint highlighted the black curls around it, as if Artemis was helping him show off this feat of strength. “Luke and Annabeth have more in their hair than I do since they held it for longer, but eventually we got Atlas back under the sky, not without consequence though.”

“What happened?” Tim furrowed his eyebrows.

“We lost Zoe. Atlas stabbed her in the fight when she was protecting Artemis. We tried to save her on our flight back to camp in Artemis’s chariot, but she didn’t want to be saved.” Percy got up from his spot and motioned for Tim to follow him to the window.

It was a clear night for once. The gray clouds didn’t cover the ark blue of the night sky and, most importantly for this demonstration, the stars. Bright twinkling lights of various sizes and brightness, some strung together by the human mind over the centuries. He tilted his head around, scanning the skies for a second before he stood back and pointed in the direction he was looking. There in the sky, near to Orion, was a new constellation. A set of stars Tim had never seen before. “Artemis turned Zoe into a constellation, she loved the stars and told me she didn’t like how in modern times we couldn’t see it anymore. It’s called ‘The Huntress.”

“Wow.” Tim gaped at it and he could see her figure in the sky. Her arm outstretched, and arrow notched in the bow ready to fire. It was beautiful.

“Yeah.” Percy sat on the bed, shoulders slumped and his body language timid. “That’s all that happened but it’s not what I’m most worried about.”

Tim took one last look at the constellation before joining him on the bed. “There is this prophecy that says a child of the oldest gods is going to fight Kronos when they reach sixteen,” Percy says. “It’s said that they’re either the catalyst for the fall or the survival of Olympus.”

“At first we didn’t know who is was going to be about, the prophecy was spat out a few decades ago. But then I showed up and everyone thought it was me,” He said. “We thought it would have been Thalia since she got revived by the fleece and she’s fifteen, but she joined the hunters and is now immortal. Bianca and Nico could be chosen, but Nico’s ten, and Bianca’s…”

“So that leaves you again.”

“Yeah.” He nods and takes a breath. “I don’t want this to fall on Nico, he’s already lost his sister and he’s so young.”

“But if you’re going against Kronos, the Kronos, you’re gonna need all the help you can get Percy.” Tim says.

“I know, and no I don’t want Bruce to know.”

“But—”

“No! This isn’t league business, it’s not Batman business. This is demigod stuff,” Percy stood up. “You guys can’t even see the monsters I fight, how are you going to protect yourself if you don’t know what you’re fighting? Mortals can’t see through the mist, they can’t get blessed with sight, unless they’re born able to see it.”

“And how do you know I can’t?” Tim crossed his arms.

Percy dug into his pocket and pulled out his pen and uncapped it. “What do you see me holding?”

“A baseball bat.”

“Wrong. It’s a sword.”

“No, you’re lying.”

“No I’m not, you just can’t see it. You can’t even feel it when I hit you with it, it goes right through you because you’re mortal. Bruce is mortal. Alfred and Dick and Barbara are mortal.” The bat changed back into a pen. “You guys could die trying to fight in my war and I won’t let you.”

“If you don’t want us to fight, then why are you telling me?” Tim said.

“Because you’re my best friend and my brother and I miss you!” Percy yelled. Whatever anger that was growing dissipated with the confession and he just looked defeated and tired again. “I missed just hanging out with you like we used to. And I can’t do that if you’re wondering where I disappear off to in the middle of the day cause I’m fighting a hell hound during fifth period.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want anything to do with me anyway when you said I wasn’t mean to be Robin! You’re the one who instigated it.”

“Because if I didn’t then you wouldn’t stop questioning me about what happened! You would try and tell Bruce, and then Bruce would try and take over and be a general to a child army of the gods. I don’t want that! You guys save the world all the time,” Percy said. “Can’t I save it just once without him?”

“You could’ve been Robin thought, I don’t see why you have to fight the titan of freakin’ time!”

“I don’t have a choice Tim!” Percy yelled. “Do you think I want to fight him? That I want to be the deciding factor of if Olympus falls and the world gets overruled by the titans and sent back to the stone age?!” Tim stayed quiet, watching Percy’s arms flail to accentuate his words. “No! I don’t, but I don’t have a choice. The sisters of fate have already said that I have to do it, and bad things happen to those who go against fate. And it’s bad enough that kids of the big three are essential cursed from birth now, I don’t want to tempt fate any more than I should.”

“What do you mean ‘already cursed?’ did something happen?”

“Yeah. World War Two. One side had the children of Zeus and Poseidon, the other the children of Hades, and they decided that—for the safety of the world—to not have kids since. They swore of the river Styx, which is the strongest bind of all kinds, and if you break it, bad things happen.” Percy answered. “Zeus broke his oath and Thalia died, Poseidon broke his oath and Jason died and I get stuck with eternal bad luck.”

“But what about those other kids you mention, Bianca and Nico, aren’t they cursed too?”

“Technically no, they were born back in the forties before the oath—” Tim opened his mouth to question. “Time magic and a casino in Vegas, I told you about it earlier.” Tim closed his mouth. “The point is Tim, I don’t want to be the center of the biggest prophecy of the century, but I have no choice. And it puts my mind at ease knowing you all can’t get hurt because you don’t know anything. Yeah, you guys can handle your own, obviously, but you can’t handle this.”

“You guys protect Gotham and the world and me from everything else,” Percy sat down next to Tim again. “Let me protect you guys from this.”

Tim let the words circle his head for a moment. The moon was way over head now, the stars outside the window shifted to the other half of the manor and he was kinda upset that he wouldn’t get to see Zoe’s constellation from his window. Logically he know that new stars didn’t just appear out of nowhere, they were already there in the sky, but to think that they had been just assembled into the constellation all of sudden was mind boggling.

Maybe Percy was right. Maybe the gods were real and that’s why strange things happen, it surely would explain Diana’s immortality and the other Amazonian’s abilities. It does explain where Percy’s been and the scars he has, why he’s good at sword fighting in the cave and why he acts like he knows more than anyone else.

Well, it’s because he does, Tim thinks. His brain had to process both normal mortal customs and that of the demigod world. He has to remember all the mythological monsters and gods, the heroes of old and how their stories help or hurt him now. He has to train all year around because the monsters won’t stop going after him because it’s a school day. No wonder some nights Percy’s wide awake, tired and sleepy, but adamant about not going back to sleep. He probably has nightmares that keep him up the same way it does for him and Bruce and Dick.

When Tim looked over to his best friend, now adoptive brother, whose made of lean muscle and gangly limbs of a growing fourteen year old boy much like him, he wonders if he would have done the same. Would he have kept it all a secret from everyone if he knew it would save them? Would he try and keep the two worlds separate because only disaster can come from them meeting?

“Okay.” Tim breathes. He would. Tim would be doing exactly what Percy is doing now because, ultimately, Tim can’t do anything to help. He can study the old myths all he wants, he can read the Odyssey and every variant of every myth ever, but he’ll never be able to cross the line that separates Percy’s world from his.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” He confirms. “You do what you have to Percy. I’ll try and help as much as I can with my puny mortal mind and body—” Percy breaks into a smile and snorts, pulling a smile of Tim’s own on his lips. God, how long has it been since he’s seen Percy smile like that, like when they were kids. When the duty of didn’t Gotham bind him to a mask and place the weight of the sky in his hands. “And I’ll try my best to keep B off your back. But can you promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“Promise me when you’re out on quests, saving the world, doing your thing as the son of Poseidon,” Tim says, holding out his pinkie. “That if you need help, of any kind, you won’t hesitate to call?”

Percy stared at his finger for a second, no doubt running through the possibilities in his head, but instead he wrapped his own little finger around Tim’s. “I promise.”

*******************************************

I love the relationship I’ve built for Tim and Percy, their characters (both canon and in this au) are just *chef’s kiss*

Also, I hope the rants they have are in character. They’re both those type of characters that it’s easy to accidentally write as their fanon-self and not their canon.

Thank you for reading!!!!

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[snowdrop-ivy]

The Light Within: IV - Safe and Sound

Summary: In a world where danger lurks at every corner, will Anna and Bucky find the strength to confront their pasts and embrace a future together, or will their scars keep them apart forever?

Pairing: Bucky x Stark!Reader, Bucky x Avenger!Reader

True to her word, Tony did buy the Avengers. However, they had to compromise: the government and the U.N. required a mission report plan before and after every operation. The final discussions about casualty protocols were still ongoing. As Tony made clear, he would oversee their missions but would not participate unless absolutely necessary. He admitted he wasn’t ready to meet with the team yet, a sentiment Anna understood all too well.

Anna took it upon herself to gather the remaining members of the team. Clint was the only exception; he opted to spend more time with his family, a choice everyone respected.

The group convened in the compound, where they each had separate rooms. Tony had poured a significant portion of the budget into making sure everyone was comfortable, particularly for Anna. The compound buzzed with a mix of anticipation and unease, the weight of their shared experiences hanging heavily in the air as they prepared to navigate this new chapter together.

“So?” Anna ended her statement, looking at everyone in the room. “Anybody have any questions?”

“I figured you’ll supervise the team?” Nat asked, looking at her.

“No,” she sighed, glancing at Steve seated beside Nat. “What’s the use of having Captain America here then?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a modest smile playing on his lips. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that again,” he admitted. “Leadership comes with a lot of weight, especially now.”

“But you’re the one everyone looks up to,” she countered, her eyes searching his for assurance. “How’d you all feel if Mindweaver stands up to the podium and tell you that the world is fucked?”

She heard snickers around the room and felt the heat rising to her cheeks. Glancing around, her gaze finally landed on Bucky. His lips were pursed, holding back a grin, but the laughter dancing in his eyes was undeniable. It was a mixture of amusement and affection that made her heart flutter, even in the midst of the teasing.

“With your looks and body, I’d listen,” Nat answered, teasing her with a grin.

Wanda raised her hand. “Count me in on that. When’s the live stream?”

“Okay, ladies,” She held up her palms. “Calm your ovaries.”

Nat and Wanda looked at each other before snickering. Anna took a deep breath, settling her look back on Steve, a playful smirk dancing in her lips. “What’d you say, Cap?”

Steve looked up, momentarily caught off guard by her presence. “I—uh, nothing, I don’t know,” he stammered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. The earnestness of the moment was broken, if only slightly, by Anna’s teasing tone.

“Well,” she sighed, stepping further into the room, her smile fading slightly. “We’re all still adjusting to everything, Steve. It’s okay to feel a little lost.”

He met her gaze, his expression sobering. “Yeah, it’s just… I’ve always been the one to lead, to have a plan. Now it feels different.”

“You’re still a leader, Cap,” she reassured him, her voice steady. “We all just need time to find our footing again.”

“Thanks, Anna. That means a lot,” he said, a small smile breaking through the heaviness.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” she smirked, raising her brows at him.

Steve took a harsh breath, bobbing his head. “Yes.”

“Great! Then I expect a full briefing on your next brilliant strategy,” she teased, leaning against the doorframe with a mock seriousness that made him chuckle.

“I think we’re all done here, people. I’ll see you all in the morning, so you better sleep tight. Tony made sure you have comfortable beds, so take advantage of that,” she said, before leaving the room.

As she stepped out, a wave of warmth washed over her, knowing the team was finally together again. She paused in the hallway for a moment, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few months lift just a little. It wouldn’t be easy, but they were home. She quickly found her way to Tony’s office, knocking on it before entering.

“Hey kid,” Tony acknowledged her presence even though his back was turned at her. 

Anna raised her brow, before sitting down on the chair in front of his table. “What are you doing?”

Tony turned to her, placing the stacks of folders on the table. “Looking over the recruits,” he said before placing a kiss on her head.

“Recruits?” She asked, her eyebrow arching in curiosity as she picked up a folder and flipped it open. “What are we? A boyband?”

Tony chuckled, shaking his head. “You just take after me.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she teased, her playful smirk growing.

“Definitely a good thing,” he answered, raising his glass at her, a corner of his mouth lifted in a proud smile. “But yes, those are recruits– Every enhanced individual HYDRA made, living across the world.”

“People like me, huh?” she snickered. 

He sighed, running a hand over his hair. “Yes, people like you.”

She paused, looking at the photographs and profiles, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in her chest. “So, what’s the plan? Are we recruiting them to join the Avengers?”

“No,” he answered, his tone more serious than before. “I mean, if they want to, but our main task is to protect them—and their families.”

“Huh?” Her expression hardened, sarcasm lacing her words. “Wish we had Avengers in my time.”

“Anna,” he softly called her, trying to reach her beyond the sarcasm. “We’ll find out who did this.”

“Like that’ll bring them back?” she shot back, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“Well,” Tony sighed, his expression softening as he watched his daughter toughen up. “Don’t you want answers?”

“I don’t see the point,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly. The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily between them.

“Sometimes knowing is the only way to move forward,” he replied gently, searching her eyes for understanding. “It’s not just about closure; it’s about ensuring this doesn’t happen again.”

Anna’s resolve wavered as she absorbed his words. “But what if the answers hurt more than the questions?”

“Then we deal with it together,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “You’re not alone in this, Anna. We’ll face whatever comes, side by side.”

She looked away for a moment, grappling with her emotions. Finally, she turned back to him, her expression softening slightly. “I just… I don’t want to feel weak again.”

“You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have,” Tony insisted, leaning forward in his chair. “You’re a Stark. I promise you, we’ll find a way to protect those who need it most.”

She looked into his eyes, his gaze full of affection, before staring at the floor, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on her. “Don’t you just wish heaven had visiting hours?”

“All the damn time,” Tony replied, a slight smile playing on his lips, though the sadness lingered in his voice. “But you can always use BARF.”

“Ugh,” she faked, gagging dramatically. “That’s the worst! You’d think I’d want to visit my loved ones, not be subjected to your terrible inventions.”

“Hey, it’s either that or I build you an armor,” he teased, leaning back in his chair, trying to lighten the mood. “And I’m not sure how well that would go with the current funding situation.”

Anna rolled her eyes, but a small smile crept onto her face despite the heaviness of their conversation. “An armor, really? You think I can visit my family with that?”

“Maybe not for heaven, but it could be a great way to reach out to aliens,” he winked, trying to make her laugh.

She chuckled, the warmth of their bond momentarily brightening the somber atmosphere. “Right, because that’s exactly what I want—an alien visitation.”

“Hey, you never know. They might have some stellar advice,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

But as the laughter faded, the reality of their losses loomed large again. “It just feels so unfair,” she whispered, looking back down. “Not being able to talk to them, to know they’re okay.”

“I get it, kid,” he said softly, his expression turning serious again. “But we have to focus on what we can do now. Honor their memory by making sure no one else goes through what we did.”

“Yeah, I know.” She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of determination and sorrow. “I just wish there was an easier way.”

Tony reached across the table, placing his hand over hers. “We’ll find our way, I promise. We’re in this together, remember?”

She nodded, squeezing his hand back, comforted by his presence. “Sure, Dad.” And for a brief moment, the weight of their grief felt just a little lighter.

They decided to ditch their plans and spend their day together. It had been too long since Tony had taken Anna out for a father-daughter date, and to say he was glad would be an understatement. The two of them slipped into their usual banter with ease, as if no time had passed since the last time they’d done this.

They drove around the city, stopping by a little diner Tony claimed was one of the best-kept secrets of New York. Anna rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. Over burgers and fries, she told him about her current plans—her hopes, the challenges ahead, and the questions she didn’t have answers to yet. Tony listened more than he talked, his expression softening at the sight of his daughter all grown up, but still very much the kid he had raised.

As the day turned into night, they found themselves laughing over old stories, lost in the warmth of the memories they shared. Tony felt a rare sense of peace, one he hadn’t felt in a long time, just being there with Anna.

When they got back to the compound, the exhaustion of the day finally hit her. She stifled a yawn as they walked through the doors, and Tony smiled, ruffling her hair playfully.

“Get some rest, kid. Today was fun.”

She nodded, too tired to argue or throw back one of her witty comebacks. As soon as she reached her room, she changed into comfortable clothes, sinking into the bed with a sigh. The warmth of the day’s memories still lingered as she drifted off to sleep, her heart a little lighter after spending the day with her dad. 

BUCKY felt uncomfortable, the weight of his thoughts heavier than the soft bed beneath him. He shifted restlessly, tossing and turning, trying in vain to find some relief. The bed was soft, plush even, but his mind was anything but. It was a warzone of memories and regrets, battles fought and scars unseen.

He stared at the ceiling, his breaths uneven, hoping that sleep would eventually come. But the silence of the night only magnified his unease, pulling him deeper into his own mind. Every time he closed his eyes, flashes of the past would creep in—faces, moments, regrets. It was like trying to fight a battle that he couldn’t win, one that never ended.

With a frustrated sigh, Bucky sat up, running a hand through his hair. No matter how hard he tried, peace continued to elude him. 

Then came the knock.

Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion, wondering who could possibly be at his door at this late hour. The sound cut through the silence, pulling him from his restless thoughts. His instincts kicked in immediately, his body tensing as he slowly got out of bed.

With cautious steps, he approached the door, his mind racing through possibilities. His heart pounded harder with each step, the weight of uncertainty settling heavily in his chest. He paused in front of the door, hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, he hesitated, taking a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever—or whoever—was on the other side. Then, with one swift motion, he opened the door.

His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Anna standing on the other side of the door. She looked tired, her eyes holding a mixture of uncertainty and something he couldn't quite place. Even though Anna was slacked, she was still beautiful in his eyes; her hair disheveled with her eyes mask tangled. Her purple, fuzzy blanket wrapped around her. Her mix matched socks. She wore an oversized white shirt with a picture of a dog and pink striped pajamas.

"Anna?" Bucky said, his voice low, unsure of why she was there.

She shifted nervously, biting her lower lip. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted softly. "And… I thought maybe you couldn't either."

Bucky blinked, still processing her unexpected presence. His initial confusion slowly melted into understanding. Without a word, he stepped aside, silently inviting her in. He watched as Anna sat on his bed, leaning on the headboard, tucking her leg under herself, her presence filling the quiet room with a sense of calm he hadn’t felt all night. She gave him a small, tentative smile, and for a moment, he felt the tension in his chest ease slightly.

He closed the door quietly, leaning against it with his arms crossed, his mind racing to make sense of her sudden appearance. “Couldn’t sleep huh?” he asked, breaking the heavy silence hanging between them.

“Well, I was,” Anna admitted with a soft smile. “But then I felt you tossing and turning, so I came here. Figured you might need a night guard.”

Bucky’s lips twitched into a smirk as he moved to sit down beside her on the bed. “A night guard, huh?”

Her eyes sparkled, a playful light dancing in them. “Yes, Sergeant. A night guard.”

“And what exactly does a night guard do?” he asked, curiosity growing as he glanced at her.

“A lot,” she replied through a yawn, her voice softening. “They guard you to sleep, or... if you’re not in the mood for that, they’ll watch movies with you.”

Bucky nodded, amusement flickering on his face. "Sounds like a useful position."

“Which one do you need, Sergeant?” she asked, her voice dipping to a whisper.

“I’ll take the latter,” he whispered back, his eyes lingering on her.

Bucky chuckled softly, shaking his head at the idea of a "night guard," but there was something oddly comforting about it. As the movie began, the familiar chaos of The Hangover filled the room, and for a moment, it eased the tension swirling in his mind.

He glanced over at Anna, watching her settle in with the pillow on her lap. The flicker of the TV illuminated her face, highlighting the relaxed curve of her smile as she immersed herself in the movie. He felt a sudden urge to close the gap between them, to fill that small, lingering inch of space. But instead, he just leaned back against the headboard, letting the movie distract them both.

Minutes passed, the room filled with soft laughter and the occasional joke from the screen. Bucky’s gaze kept drifting to Anna, his thoughts quieter now but still there. He couldn’t remember the last time someone sat beside him like this—someone who didn’t make him feel so…alone.

“You make a good night guard,” he said softly after a while, his voice barely audible over the movie.

She turned to him, her eyes soft and a bit drowsy. “Yeah? Well, that’s good, because I don’t plan on quitting anytime soon.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the movie’s opening scenes playing in the background, but neither of them seemed to pay much attention. The flicker of the TV screen illuminated their faces, but the real electricity was between them, in the charged silence that neither knew how to break. After a few minutes, Anna’s voice broke the silence. “You know, I don’t really think I’m that great of a night guard,” she said, yawning again. “I’m already half asleep.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his gaze moving from the screen to her. “Well, you’re doing a decent job just being here.”

Her eyes fluttered open at his words, and she turned to face him. The tension from earlier seemed to dissipate between them as her expression softened. “Good. Maybe I’ll clock in some overtime.”

He smiled, feeling a rare sense of peace wash over him. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

As the movie progressed, Anna’s eyelids began to droop. Bucky could see the struggle on her face to stay awake, her head bobbing slightly as she fought against the pull of sleep. Eventually, she surrendered, leaning against him, her head finding a comfortable spot on his shoulder. He felt a rush of warmth at the contact, and his heart swelled as he adjusted his position to support her. The soft rise and fall of her breathing and her light snore soothed him, and he turned his gaze back to the screen, though he found it difficult to concentrate on the movie.

Minutes passed, and Bucky felt himself relaxing into the moment, her presence a balm for his restless thoughts. As he shifted slightly, he could feel the warmth radiating from her, a soft weight that grounded him. The tension from earlier melted away, and the familiar worries about the world outside faded into the background. With Anna nestled against him, Bucky allowed his eyes to flutter closed, comforted by the gentle rhythm of her breathing. He sank deeper into the mattress, a rare sense of safety wrapping around him like a warm blanket.

The movie played on, but Bucky was no longer aware of the scenes flashing across the screen. Instead, he drifted off, lost in a comfortable sleep, the weight of the day slipping away as he finally found solace in the quiet of the night.

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[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

I'll make a separate post for all of my thoughts (because I have a lot), but I'd like to thank all of you. This has been such an amazing experience, being able to tell a story from start to end. This has been a lot of firsts for me, first fic, first serious writing, first time I reach the end of any long form story I made.

Each and every one of you reading, liking, reblogging and commenting made this ride that more enjoyable.

Now, it's time we finish it, with the longest chapter yet.

Its name on AO3 will be "Together."

All that could be heard in the small room were crackling flames. For a while, they just stared at each other.

“Revenants of light, huh…” Johnny whispers, fingers gently caressing Simon’s hand. He scoffs in disbelief, “I can’t believe we actually did it…”

Simon sinks into the flames hugging his skin, “did what?”

“Broke that prophecy. Lived. Fuckin’ created a new Reaper.” Johnny’s eyes shine, his voice full of reverence, “you think this was… a new deal?”

Heat strikes down, deep in his chest. “It would make sense… new Reaper, new powers…” Simon trails off.

“New death.” Johnny grins lopsidedly, “looks like yer stuck with me ‘till the end, LT.”

“Till death do us apart, Johnny?”

His Sergeant laughs brightly, Simon grinning like an idiot under the mask. Johnny takes his other hand in his, donning a more serious expression.

“Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone.” he recites slowly, eyes not moving from his. Simon inhales sharply.

“I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One.” his heart beats like a war drum, strong and heavy. 

“Johnny…” he doesn’t recognize the lines, but the meaning expands beyond cultures.

“I give ye my Spirit,” he lifts a hand to cup Simon’s cheek, “’til our Life shall be Done.”

Simon leans in, resting his forehead on Johnny’s, chuckling in incredulity, “you’re fuckin’ mental, Sergeant.”

The Scot hums, nudging his head, “thought ye knew that already, mo chridhe.”

Fuckin’ hell, his heart won’t stop beating so loudly. Simon knows Johnny was half joking but���

But still his heart strives to etch the words into his rib cage. A vow seared into their very flesh, marked by forces beyond their comprehension.

An oath, so powerful it joins not only their lives, but the lives of otherworldly horrors, being who do not care for such things as human connection.

And yet, it is that very thing that changed the course of destiny, in a way not even Reapers could predict.

Simon leans close, to the man he calls home, a hearth to never be extinguished.

And he feels safe. He feels… complete.

When they finally leave the room, the air outside is considerably colder. The safe house is quiet, in a way it can’t be, for the amount of soldiers it contained before Johnny dragged Ghost away.

He catches the attention of a passing Vaquero, and the man tells him most have left for the base, as it was liberated once Graves died. He also informs them their teammates are waiting outside by the vehicles.

Price and Garrick smile at them knowingly when they reach the armored truck.

“Bloody hell, finally! What took you two so long??” Gaz kicks off the side of the truck to scowl at them.

Ghost squints, face heating up, “none of yours, Sergeant.”

Gaz opens his mouth, but Price pats his back, “we can argue in the damn car. I need a fuckin’ shower.”

The Sergeant instantly forgets his previous grievances, and floats away to the passenger sit, “oh fuck yeah! I’m drooling just thinking about the bunks. You think Rudy would make us tea again if we ask really nicely?”

Soap swings the door open while shaking his head, muttering, “feckin’ Brits and their shite tea…”

Ghost slides besides him and cuffs him over the warhawk, “you better respect Parra’s tea in this car, Sergeant.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, unable to stop the smirk spreading on his lips, “what are ye gonna do? Report me to the king?”

“You little…” Ghost starts wrestling his Sergeant in the back sits, Price sighing deeply and turning the ignition.

When Soap somehow manages to kick the Captain’s headrest, jostling his hat dangerously, Price turns to glare at the two of them.

“You stop that, or I’m leaving you on the side of the road.”

They both immediately freeze, “sorry Captain.” Soap mumbles.

The truck is left parked between the others already on base, and the taskforce makes its way to the barracks.

Rudy finds them after a shower, smiling, “hermanos. Feeling better?”

Garrick is still drying his hair with a towel, “feel fuckin’ human, brother.”

Alejandro rounds the corner, laughing, “Rudy got something even better than a shower.”

“What’s that?” Soap asks. Price’s eyes fill with wonder, and Ghost already knows the answer.

Alejandro swings an arm around the Sergeant Major, “how does ‘Parra’s infamous tea’ sound like?”

Gaz cheers, floating up a few inches, while Soap grumbles disappointingly, “sounds like bloody heaven, Rodolfo!” Garrick reaches to pull the Vaquero into a hug, “thank you!!!”

Rudy pats the Sergeant, laughing, “it’s nothing, hermano. A little thanks for all of you, for helping us with Graves.” he looks over at Ghost, the two sharing a nod of mutual understanding.

Soap pouts, “feckin’ tea though…?”

Alejandro smirks confidently, “we also got some… shortbread, you call it?”

Now that puts a spark in Johnny’s eyes, “ye all are saints, Alejandro.”

The Colonel laughs loudly. 

They meet Commander Karim and Keller on their way out, duffle bags slung over their shoulders.

Farah smiles warmly at the Captain, “ah, Price. Glad I could find you before we leave.”

“You’re already going back to Urzikstan?”

The American sighs, “yep. The Vaqueros volunteered to search for any of our people, but currently we need to go back to protecting whoever we still have.”

“Graves may be dead, but this is far from over.” Farah looks over the serene hills surrounding the base, “as much as I want to get Shepherd, I cannot let myself be blinded by revenge.”

Ghost understands the sentiment. Revenge is a fuel, what you put it into could make or break your reality. “When we find him, we’ll make sure you’re there to take it.”

Farah nods, perceptive eyes landing on his, “I appreciate it, Lieutenant.” she turns to the rest, “thank you for everything. God willing, we will meet on better times.”

Price wraps a hand around her shoulder, making Ghost realize just how small the Commander is compared to him, “stay safe, Farah.” he winks at Alex, “make sure she takes breaks from time to time, will you?”

Keller laughs, “you know not even I can do that. Cya around, Cap.”

As the two walk away, Garrick mumbles, “think they’ll be alright without Graves supporting them?”

Price sighs wearily, eyes somber as they track Farah and Alex’s form, “they’ll have to be.”

They say their goodbyes to the Vaqueros, with a hopeful note to work together in the future, and get ready to board a plane to England. After a few hours, where the team took time to fix their undoubtably horrid stench and growling stomachs, and got to sleep (Soap dragged him to a sofa to nap, and Ghost will forever deny it was the best sleep of his life), Laswell called.

Ghost initially prayed they’re not being sent to another mission, in a way he never did. To his credit, the last few months were absurd.

She didn’t contact them for work, instead inviting them to stop by for a drink before they all leave for the UK. The promise of a good drink had them instantly agree.

The flight is spent mostly sleeping, again, as they were all incredibly tired, bone deep fatigue, emotionally and physically.

Garrick made sure to make his annoyingly aching shoulder everyone’s problem, complaining he couldn’t find a good position to rest in, until the Captain showed mercy and let him float around the cabin, leg held fast by Price.

Kate greets them warmly in a little bar hidden within Chicago’s winding alleys. Their drinks have been ordered beforehand, and everyone makes their gratitude known by taking a sip and melting into the bar sits.

Laswell smiles knowingly, letting them relax before starting, “this has been quite a ride for you boys, huh?”

Price sighs, “you can say it again.”

The CIA agent shakes her head morosely, “they got past us.”

“Well, they had a head start.” the Captain lifts his drink, “to cutting heads off snakes.”

Laswell clinks her cup with his. Ghost joins their conversation while they take the toast, “any sign of Shepherd?”

The woman puts the drink back on the counter, “totally off the grid.”

Gaz looks down at his whisky, frowning in conviction, “we’ll find him.”

“No,” Laswell answers, Garrick locking eyes with her, “we’ve got bigger fish.” she glances at Soap, “I did some digging on the Russian experiments.”

“That’s a dirty job if I’ve heard one”, Price mutters under his breath.

“Ultra-nationalists are after the fabled ‘revenant-killer’, John.” Price shakes his head minutely at the words.

“Kate,” he says lowly, “this is over.” almost begging her to let his boys rest.

“No. It’s not.” she ignores his pleas, as do all Reapers above and below. “They’re working with someone new.”

She pulls out a picture and shows it to Price, his expression instantly morphing into shock, and then cold rage.

Ghost tries to ask the Captain what he’s seeing, but he doesn’t need to.

Price points at the photo, “...he’s not new.” and passes it to Gaz.

Garrick’s brows furrow at it, glancing at the Captain questioningly before passing it over to Johnny.

Soap takes one look at the image, his smile lines deepening as his fingers singe the edges of the photo.

He slides it to Ghost, hand lingering, eyes full of uncertainty.

Ghost flips the picture, and his heart hardens.

“Who is he?” Laswell asks Price.

The Captain leans in to almost whisper, “Makarov.”

Laswell tilts her head, and Price continues to talk in their minds, “the Kastovian deserter, Konchar? He didn’t leave the military for no reason.”

Flames crackle threateningly under the bar, Ghost sliding a hand over white fire.

“He worked for Makarov?” Soap growls.

Price nods, “your Reaping took his work years back, but if what Laswell says is true…”

“He’s back.” Ghost finishes.

Johnny’s hand squeezes his, and they make eye contact.

It’s never really over, is it? Some say they’ll rest when they’re dead. Their harsh reality is that they’re not even granted that.

Blue eyes reflecting flames, as well as one floating man with a warm smile, and a reassuring voice in his mind, promise him that while yes, they may never rest, it does not mean they’ll fight alone.

Together, until death, as it brought them to each other, takes them away.

Soap is furious. They leave the bar not soon after, his Sergeant walking away as they say their farewells to Laswell.

On the flight back, he’s all uncontrollable energy, waiting for ignition to blow up. 

Ghost, after 20 minutes of watching Johnny bounce his leg enough to wear a hole through the damn floor, places a hand to stop his movements.

“Talk to me, Johnny.”

Soap’s eyes stay full of rage for only a moment, before softening, “I’m thinking… maybe it wasn’t coincidence that me and Konchar were in Verdansk at the same time.”

Ghost hums for him to continue, drawing nonsense patterns on his thigh.

“What if I was an experiment, Simon?” Johnny looks away, his eyes fogging with memories, “what if Makarov knew Konchar had to kill me to live, and wanted to see if I could. If I was destined to be a revenant killer?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ghost grounds. Johnny looks unconvinced, so he continues, “whatever you were destined to be… you’re not it anymore. We’re both changed men.”

Johnny stares at him with more emotions than Simon can contain, reverence and trust and… something he can’t name.

“You… how could I tell you how much I adore you?”

Simon’s heart, gut and head, all line in decision for once in his life. 

Actions speak louder than words, he remembers. And so, he rolls up the mask up above his brows, and leans in.

Gently taking hold of Soap’s nape, he directs his head to his face, pressing a touch of lips to his temple.

Simon whispers in his ear, “I already know. I look at you, and I can’t explain what it does to me. What you do to me, love.”

Johnny closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. He looks almost conflicted, but the creases smooth over when Simon brushes lips over them.

“You mean everything.”

Price ordered him to his office the moment Ghost stepped foot on British soil. He glanced at Johnny, who was carrying his and Gaz’s bags. His Sergeant promised with a lopsided grin he’ll find him later, a sort of scheming glint in his eyes.

Ghost reaches the Captain’s office in record time, hoping to finish whatever this is as fast as possible.

Price, however, didn’t get the damn memo, and takes his sweet time settling into his chair. “How are you doing, Simon?”

Ghost surpassed the urge to roll his eyes, “good.” he gets the mental image of begging on his knees for Price to get to the point, and the Captain laughs.

“Alright, alright. I’ll spare you the suffering, Lieutenant.” Price’s smile slowly fades, “what happened with your Reaper, son?”

Right. He and Johnny may have forgotten to mention the new developments in the ‘Eldritch horrors beyond this world’ department.

“Our Reapers merged. They called themselves ‘Reaper of Luminary’.” Ghost huffs, “they told me and Johnny… we’re linked. We’ll live and die together.”

Price nods. He doesn’t seem too surprised, and Ghost wonders how much he already knew from his passing thoughts.

“I don’t know how long we would be able to keep it quiet…” he strokes his moustache, “this gets out, you two will have a target on your backs.”

Ghost straightens, hands behind his back at rest, “we’ll handle it, if it comes to that, sir.”

The Captain sighs, “I admire your confidence, Lieutenant, but I don’t think you understand the scale of the issue. You two are the first revenants in modern history to affect the Reapers the way they affect humans. We believed our connection was a one way street - that humans are simply too weak to change Reapers.” his stare is severe, ���you however? You’re powerful enough to not only go against them, but physically mold them. What Makarov is after is nothing compared to the force you hold.”

Ghost closes his eyes. Price is right, of course. But…

He has faith. Hope.

Price’s moustache twitches, “...I understand.” he raises from the chair, walking around to place a hand on Ghost’s shoulder.

“I’m happy for you, son. You and Soap make a good team.” the Captain’s eyes crease with mirth, “I heard your conversation on the plane-”

“Fuckin’ hell Price, that was bloody private!” Ghost scoffs, embarrassment coursing through him.

“I stopped listening after the first ‘love’-”

Ghost drags a hand over his eyes, “just get on with it”

“As I’ve told you, you have my blessing. If you need anything, if anyone gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to come to me, got it?”

Ghost scoffs despite the threat of tears in his eyes. He looks at Price now, and sees much more than a Captain. He sees something he has never had.

“Copy.”

It’s not Johnny that finds him first, but Garrick, floating around the hallway in front of Price’s office.

“Need the Captain, Sergeant?” Ghost inquires.

Gaz stops, “no, I got a message from Soap.”

His interest instantly piques, “go on.”

Garrick rummages through his pocket with his healthy hand and pulls out a note, “he said ‘meet me here’, and that you should ‘clean up’.” the Sergeant wiggles his eyebrows, “sounds like he has a nice surprise for ya, sir.”

Ghost takes the note, examining the location. Looks like a street in the city neighboring the base. “I’m off then. Don’t get into trouble, Garrick. Cheers.”

Gaz frowns, pointing at his injured arm, “not like I bloody can…”

Ghost smiles while walking away, “if anyone could find a way, it would be you Sergeant.”

He chuckles lowly at Gaz’s fussing as he makes his way to the base’s parking lot.

The sun has started to set by the time Ghost reaches the location Soap left for him, the sky painted reds and oranges and yellows that remind him fondly of Johnny’s radiant fire.

He changed into a more casual outfit, covering his face with only a cloth mask and a hoodie. 

Ghost’s lips stretch so much he fears they’ll get stuck like that, when he spots the place. An elegant sign hangs above a restaurant, one that looks small and cozy, with dimmed warm lighting, and plants covering the brick walls.

He parks the car nearby and walks in, a waiter catching his stare and approaching him.

“Are you uh… ‘Ghost’?” he says with hesitation.

Ghost scans the tables, trying to find one warhawk sticking out, “affirm.”

The waiter sighs in relief, “your partner is already here. Follow me.”

The man leads him to a more secluded area, a low wall separating it from the main room. Ghost feels his heart thrum a familiar beat when he finally finds Johnny, sitting alone in a table for two.

“Your orders will arrive soon, please make yourself at home.” the waiter gives him a wobbly smile, and Johnny chuckles at the man practically running away.

“You really do have quite the effect on people, don’t ye Simon?” his Sergeant smiles.

Simon huffs, sitting down in front of him, “what’s all this, then?” he nods to the restaurant.

Johnny leans in, taking his hand, “I promised I’ll treat ye nicely, to a good restaurant, didn’t I?”

“You remembered?” Simon blinks in surprise.

“Of course,” Johnny grins, “I also remember ye said ye will treat me equally.”

“Had a feeling this was too good to be true…” Simon sighs, mask covering his smile.

“Oi!”

Simon pulls the mask off, making Johnny snap his mouth closed, “thank you.” he smirks smugly at his Sergeant’s amazed expression.

“Fuck me, I almost forgot how beautiful ye are.” Johnny mumbles.

Heat spreads over his exposed features, Simon looks away, “guess I’ll have to remind you more often.”

“Oh, please! I won’t ask fer anything else!”

Simon glances back at him, “we both know that’s fucking bullshite, Sergeant.”

Johnny laughs, tugging at his hand, “aye, ye know me too well.”

They quiet down to a comfortable silence, grins fading to soft smiles.

“Whatever comes next…” Simon inhales, grasping Johnny’s hand tighter. “We’ll do it together, love.”

Johnny lets his white flames caress Simon’s scarred hands, casting an otherworldly glow over them, making them shine as if lit from within.

If his heart could, it would be brighter than the sun now.

“Together.”

To be continued.

[archivalofsins]

So I spent the day out with my father dragging him to two movies in a row. Which leads me into this-

It will always be funny to me when English speaking specifically comic fans that are into Milgram discuss how mental health is portrayed in Milgram. Especially how it's lacking because the understanding of mental health in the east is lacking something that is reflected when it comes to media.

Like buddy the person writing this actually studied psychology this is actually pretty decent when it comes to that and written with care.

Not even touching on how that's just kind of a self-report. Saying that to me is pretty much announcing that some may not read many things from other areas or not wander out of their comfort zone much. Even when it comes to the thing they're saying is better. Because western comics is a big frontier with many canons.

Well, why are you bringing up this old thing now- Honestly because the funniest thing just happened and I think some people may enjoy pointing and laughing. Deservedly so at western comics and the media depiction of mental health. That is so far and leagues above everywhere else.

Meaning it would never touch on any similar points to Milgram ever. Because it's so much more advanced. So last week a new Harley Quinn graphic novel came out and the new Joker movie released-

Guess what these two things talk about~

This week alone I've read,

A new Young Adult graphic novel inspired by The Strange Case of Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde that reimagines Harley Quinn's origin story and struggles with dissociative tendencies which to my knowledge (I'm not a walking dc canon encyclopedia) has only been implied and not expressly stated as due to drug experimentation. It has all the symptoms of the thing that shall not be named in western comics but since it's a western graphic novel just like with Elle(s) it can't be stated it's that.

So, it's due to a research experiment and treated as just a side-effect the same drug experimentation group that gives Pamela Isley (poison Ivy) plant powers by the way. They both were given different drugs I need to state that. It's not that absurd and it is a fun read.

Just to then go- Ya know; I've heard the new Joker movie is trash without really getting anything more than that. Mostly it's been why did they use Harley in this way. They should've just made that character Punchline. Which let's be real we all know why name recognition who the fuck knows Punchline for real- for real?

Any of you seen this woman the jokers new partner in crime?

Anybody know who this is outside of the fact she hates Harley Quinn. Because the only time I've seen her online is in contrast to Harley. Like I'm sorry yeah she has Punchlines story in this I can see that with as little as I know about this woman. But like it's not about Harley (Lee as she goes by briefly in this) it's about Joker (who isn't even anything much like the canonical joker already). So it'd be more accurate to say it's about Arthur Fleck and iteration of the joker.

But like it would have been great if this was Punchline would have been a amazing way to introduce her to the live action dc universe but they didn't do that. Because they wanted to make money of the name recognition well not entirely they also wanted to flip the script and highlight another reason this relationship would have never worked. Like the only thing that movie showed me was that Harley and the Joker should never be together.

This isn't portrayed as relationship goals it's abusive, unhealthy, and to an extent something done as both of their last resorts for separate reasons and founded on lies. It just puts Harley into the manipulator role which I can understand people taking offense to given the history of Harley's character.

Yet before I saw it. I was just curious. I was curious about what made this pretty quickly despised. So, I wanted to go see it for myself. Just to find out during the first five minutes it's about Arthur Fleck (Joker) having dissociative identity disorder. This is stated at first ambiguously through the Warner Brother's cartoon at the start of the film and then blatantly for the court case he's having.

It also kind of blatantly showcases that Harley and the Joker would never be good together quite blatantly. Like under any circumstances actually for the reasons stated above. But also funnily enough she likes Joker and not Arthur as soon as he's like not the guy she dumps him. This is a concern that's also brought up in The Strange Case of Harleen and Harley with Pamela and Harleen's relationship.

It's handled different there but an issue that is still covered none the less. Now when it comes to DC deviations from canon are nothing new and the first Joker movie already did that greatly.

I did find it interesting that they did highlight how easily manipulated individuals with mental health issues of any kind can be but particularly the way it highlighted this with DiD was just brutal. It's a depressing film it is not a good time.

I would not recommend going to see it. Unless you plan to talk shit in an empty theater than actually yeah its kind of fun.

The only movie I can compare it to is Primal Fear because it is a lot like that except it also has musical numbers. The amount of musical numbers in that film outlandish. Still they had Lady Gaga and said got damn it we're going to use her.

It's a crime movie that is literally what it was labeled as at the theater. It's slow the movie itself is over two hours and the first hour is set up. Still it also has a reputation of being so bad that I shit you not the theater I went to see it in with my father was completely empty. Like a group bought five seats in front of me they were sold on the thing I bought tickets on.

They did not show up. That bitch was empty during the fucking movie I got a text from an unknown number asking if I was okay like they could fucking sense I was watching the new Joker movie-

I was having the time of my fucking life though. Do you know how often I pray for theaters to be fucking empty. Private viewing for just me. I could just text while watching it. The shit said during that later half court case wild-

It was a fucking experience my dad the entire time,

"What is this shit how can they allow this in a theater."

Me damn karmas a bitch after all that good talk I saw about well it can't be like media here where depictions of mental health are always decent. It's like let's all just ignore these several things that do the same stuff actually.

Am I saying any of these things are bad to depict. No, it's important to have media that discuss these topics and I will always believe more is needed not less. No one individual can decide what is good representation or not. However, I think implying that certain cultures are more inept than others when it comes to depicting mental health in media is unwarranted and unfair.

The examples I listed here showcase that we are all working with the same information, the same stereotypes, and western media is in no way ahead of any other places when it comes to depictions of these things. Yes, it's better than it was when I was a child but that's only marginally so. It says a lot that the only time that this topic can be mentioned by name in western media and not danced around is within Joker.

In a story that was never going to have a happy end. The Strange Case of Harleen and Harley has a good ending, Elle(s) has a good ending. When it's explained away as anything other than what it is when it's not said aloud then characters can be happy. The fact that Milgram stated what it was is already better than most recent media that only alludes to it and then quickly shuffles about and goes but it's not that we swear.

That's how I genuinely feel about it. These were good I enjoyed them but like ya know wait a bit see what happens. Ya, know~

[granulesofsand]

A Guide to -conscious Terms with Examples

🗝️🏷️ paragraphs in orange refer to programming (and therefore RAMCOA)

We’re going back to -conscious terms. They’re easier to understand because they’re defined on pluralpedia and don’t have the aging that grows the meaning of phrases like possession form switching.

Possession Form: either experiencing alters as a) outside the body or b) taking over the body without shifting into the new alter. Uncommon variation of DID at the time of publish.

I’m going to define the words as I go, for anymany who identify with them, bringing them up in relation to our experiences.

We usually selves-describe as polyconscious, because it’s the highest degree of separation present in our system — most alter-to-alter switching works this way for us, though we also have a lot of subsystem switching that looks more monoconscious

Polyconscious: switching that feels like leaving or ‘coming to’ as you exit and enter front. Alters without innerworld access might ‘sleep’ when not fronting

Monoconscious: switching that feels like becoming the newly fronting alter. Could have memory barriers or not, could be median or multiple

Because we have both, we are more accurately a misaconscious or biconscious system. The structures of our system, however, rarely combine the two between subgroups, so we generally notice the polyconsciousness more in our front realm.

Misaconscious: a mix of polyconscious and monoconscious functioning

Biconscious: a system with two or more consciousness types

Our polyconscious switching feels like sitting next to someone at a piano bench; sometimes I can hear them play or fight them for the keys I want. They can get up and leave whenever, and someone could be next to me without me noticing if they’re sneaky or I’m not paying attention. Switching with other subgroup members is usually polyconscious for us.

Within my subsystem, we have a misaconscious switching that corresponds with our internal appearance. We are all Greys, and we can act as clones with set changes for each.

We can blend together and be hydraconscious with any other Grey by stepping into them (dropping our amnesia barriers), which makes us consciousflux.

Consciousflux: changing consciousness type

Hydraconscious: members have both individual (poly)consciousness and collective (mono)consciousness, like hydra heads. There might be a combined memory or a method of memory sharing

When we’re one alter, we have access to all the information each of us gathered. We’re still capable of talking amongst ourselves as separate entities, but we can let it blur if we ‘let go’.

We split to cover more ground; it used to be to spy on the others and report back to our perps, but now we do it for therapy — we can talk to different alters simultaneously, have one front and the others run around completing a task, become a general nuisance with higher numbers.

Depending on how we blend, we can lean into apiconsciousness or multiplexconsciousness, and we are always dynaconscious.

Apiconscious: individual (poly)consciousness with the ability to act as a hive-mind. The hive-mind bit can be more or less commonly used, noted as especially prominent for important decisions

Multiplexconscious: hydraconscious front and polyconscious headspace or innerworld; alters might have access to memories of others while fronting, but don’t continuously share them

Dynaconscious: alters can come and go from front as they please

Our subgroups shift around in proximity to front. Some groups were designed to stay far from front unless cued. They were generally polyconscious, but were taught to ‘slip in’ to front in an effort to make them less conspicuous.

These alters had to travel to get to front, and would ‘fade in’ as they grew nearer. They could keep information away from other fronters, so could be a subset of consciousflux called conciousslide. If they didn’t have secrets to keep, they could specify down to combiconscious.

Consciousslide: a change or shift in consciousness type depending on proximity to front

Combiconscious: polyconsciousness in headspace/innerworld, hydraconsciousness in co-consciousness, and monoconscious in front

Before one orbital subsystem cracked (split along submember lines to make each independent), they were cephaconscious. They were able to coexist simultaneously in our otherworld, but their switching was more of a shifting. They had nested subsystems that were mutoconscious, whose members existed within the same form always.

Cephaconscious: alters who are monoconscious at front, but polyconscious in the headspace/innerworld

Mutoconscious: alters who are monoconscious at front, and hydraconscious in the headspace/innerworld

Some polyconscious alters are seraconscious, the opposite of dynaconscious. They don’t blend well, or at all, with others.

Seraconscious: a alter or front whose consciousness can’t be entered or left

The one I’m thinking of has admin access to several hierarchy subsystems (ranked subgroups), and can’t turn off that function without an entire fleet of automatons going offline. Plus the general chaos of unmonitored children and active persecutors. Anyone who successfully joined up would have to deal with that too, but it’s not a problem cause we can’t do it.

Our system also has a gatekeeper to our front realm (headspace) that used to make us fixumconscious. They can roam around the Dome (front realm) now and are less bound to the external reality, but they can only get into otherworld if the body is unconscious.

Fixumconscious: an alter, group, or system that has to integrate/blend with another consciousness to front

We might still count? But the gatekeeper we used to blend through as our shell no longer serves that purpose; they rearranged the floating fragments in the Dome to hold the information we need, and they’re so tiny that it’s not the same sensation even in bulk.

If we aren’t, we would be raconscious. A good amount of our subsystems are raconscious — they don’t have any ‘lens’ alter or part that the front through, though they may still have a ‘blanket self’ they all identify with.

Raconscious: an alter, group, or system that doesn’t require stepping into another consciousness to front

Because our Dome is large (probably), we can have a lot of fronters occupying the same space and thinking concurrently. I imagine we were ‘trained’ to allow at least the programmed alters to coexist this way.

It does work to our advantage to have the resources to be conscious simultaneously; having that ability defines paraconsciousness. If we did have to learn the skill, we would have been unuconscious beforehand.

Paraconscious: a high capacity for hosting consciousnesses, like more bandwidth for headmates

Unuconscious: a low capacity for hosting consciousness, which can lead to dissociation and identity confusion between alters. It can be brought up with practice

One of our healing goals is control over dissociative barriers; in a system with total control, or who has focused on integration, they could lower the barriers completely and have a systemwide blend. Some systems can do this, or at least achieve a similar effect (as if before syscovery), spontaneously. Either would be dualconscious.

Dualconscious: systems who can maintain both a singlet and a system consciousness at different times, with or without their intent

Alters, groups, or systems can have murkier relationships with consciousness. They could be outside any description, unaware of which labels fit, or not care to use any labels.

Overlap exists between eniconscious and quoiconscious systems; one is outside the labels, the other is uncertainty around them.

Eniconscious: feeling no label fits (especially when headmate is unconventional) or not knowing enough about the system to decide on another label

Quoiconscious: not knowing enough about the labels or the system to decide on a consciousness type

[drowninginblox]

Reminders

A group of drabbles that I wrote on a whim. Enjoy!

It's been some time since Tubbo last saw the morning crew altogether. It wasn't something he lingered on, he had plenty of machines to distract himself with. Yet every so often, the thought would seep in between the brief spaces between his geers. Lingering laughter intermixed fragments of English and Portuguese. The smell of coffee and oil intermixed with wine, dandelions, and sweat. Sometimes he would space out mid-experiment only to be taken out with the howls of his business partner or the reminder of his ever-sleeping daughter.

Forexample, just earlier today, as the young satyr was reading himself for the day, he passed a loose calendar on his way to the coffee pot. Most of the time Tubbo would pay it no mind. However, a day was circled in pink marker- marking the day as one sunny made sure to remember in the case Tubbo did, which he is always one to do. Ceasing his trip mid-step, he lingered on the brief note longer than he should.

"Fit's Arm"

A few charges in his brain fire, a smile, small and tired, slowly creeps onto his face. He didn't get to ask Fit about his arm. It must've slipped by with a myriad of things Tubbo's sure to have missed throughout his life. But, with this newfound vigor, he can't help but chuckle. Maybe later today he'll stop by Fit's place. Pac's too if he can't find the Florida man. A laugh follows as he gets back to his journey to the coffee pot at the realization that he'd give up an arm and a leg for his morning crew

------

Phil wasn't that worried when he saw his children still in bed. He made sure to check their temperatures, to which both were fine, and sighed when nothing changed after three days. This isn't anything new to Phil, Chyanne and Tallulah on separate occasions have had their bouts of long rests. Yet when Bagi and Tina reported that the other eggs were the same, Phil could only fear the worst. It was one thing for the Ender King to go after him, that's fine. But children? This was a new low.

Even though he was a vessel of the gods, he could only do so much when it came to their rights. So in solidarity, he lit some incense, burned a few roses, and prayed that his anxieties weren't reality. In the meantime, making medicine for the eggs when they were lucid enough to take some.

It's been weeks now, and nothing has changed. Phil was sitting on the fishing perch with a fresh cup of green tea in his hands, contemplating the horizon for the twelfth time that week. His eyes and throat stung and exhaustion was on the cusp of his soul. Yet he remained. "Darling, please," A voice he only heard in his dreams coaxed. One that was sweat like honey and dark as night. "You know I won't go down easily love," He relented. A shared sigh followed as a light touch made contact with his shoulder. "I know."

He turns his head. A form he knew too well greets him, veiled from the sun and other's gaze. "It's been too long." She admits. Phil smiles before glancing at the door. Eyes do wide with panic. "Please don't tell me you're here for-" She puts her other hand on his other shoulder, holding him together. "No." Her hat moves with her shaking head. "No. I am here strictly for personal reasons. I have no business here, I promise you." A breath he didn't know he was holding almost took the man's soul. "Thank the gods," She slaps his shoulder. "I would never do that to you, you know that!"

"I know you wouldn't! It's just, others... have come here. 'Sinked their claim into my family, Kristen." She sighs. A tear slips though the warrior's gaze. "I'm so sorry my love." A hand holds his face as the cracks slowly grow in his guard. Who knew the reaper mourned the living?

------

The movement of his weapon carried Pac through his nights. With thoughts of his beloved haunting him in his dreams only to take up to see his sons trapped in their haze of sickness, the only thing that seemed to get him through these restless nights was monster slaying. Something about it was so cathartic. The repetitive swing of an axe, scythe, or sword and the groans of pain of those he vanquished. In a way, it was a great form of exertion. One that made his mind blur into itself while his body acted on sharpened instinct after a year of hostility.

While he replayed a conversation with Ramon in his head, he was taking out half a dozen zombies at a time. Hoards of them have turned into a nuisance more than a lingering fear. "Oi!" The break through the groans snaps Pac out of his haze, his body turning to the noise. Mike stands on a nearby hill, waving something bright in his hands. A surge of pain trails up Pac's arm, redirecting himself on the annoyance at hand.

It doesn't take him too long to clean up the group but the clearer Mike's voice became, the faster the exhaustion laced itself through his muscles. Before he knew it the grip he had on his sword gave. He could hear Mike clearly now but the words were nothing more than white noise as his knees gave into the gravity of the situation Pac put himself in.

Mike was there to catch him before he hit the ground. Concern and panic flooded his mind as he pulled out his warp stone. "Sinto muito, meu amigo. Eu deveria ter ajudado você" he mumbled through the echo of the contraption. Within moments they were at Pac's house. The sun was rising over the savannah as Mike carried his friend inside. "Há quanto tempo você é assim?" Silence was what he expected, but from Pac's position over his shoulders, he could hear the mumbling "Fitch... Why, Por que você teve que sair?" He looked down. He and Pac had been through hell together, but he knew Pac would hate to see him like this. So instead he tried to look for the secret warp to his basement and bit his lip to shush himself. The ass beating he had in store for FitMC- *"I'm so sorry my friend. I should have been there for you." .... "How long have you been like this?" *"Why did you have to leave?"

Eventually, he found it, teleporting him and his semi-conscious brother to his bedroom. "Pac, faça-me um favor e vá dormir, porra." He ordered, tossing the smaller onto his bed. A groan was all he needed to hear. "Não dou a mínima para o fato de você estar triste, você está cansado. E eu só consigo lidar com uma emoção de cada vez no momento." He waited a moment for any bitebacks but he was relieved to be met with obnoxious but believable snores. *"Pac, do me a favor and go to fucking sleep." ... "I don't give a shit that your sad, you're tired. And I can only handle one emotion at a time right now."

Whether it be out of paranoia or satisfaction, he lingers for what he hoped was only a few minutes. Eventually, he vacated the basement upstairs. There he put on a kettle to brew some tea. From there he would take the rest of the day to pick up after Pac as he slept for the first time in who knew how long. It wasn't a lot, at least to Mike but it was a good start for an overdue apology.

[incorrecttowerofgodquotes]

Gundam: The Witch From Mercury Season 2 Episode 6 Review

- Suletta needs to learn proper coping techniques fast. Just ignoring the problem doesn’t make it go away. All that does is let it build up inside you until you snap. However, since the very beginning, Suletta has acted as a doormat, letting people walk all over her without speaking up for herself. She deserves to be sad, she deserves to be angry. Being a people-pleaser will only just tear her apart more. Luckily, both Chuchu and Eri realized this, and while Chuchu went about it the healthier way, it was good of Eri to finally cut off Suletta. She needs to establish a life outside of being Aerial’s pilot. It might have been what she was made for, but fuck destiny and parental expectations! Live your own life tanuki!

- Earth House claiming the best supporting character spots simply by recognizing what’s wrong with Suletta and actually acting on it, especially Chuchu. She pushes Suletta to express her true feelings and makes the plan to go see Miorine so she can explain herself. She’s grown up from the violent little doggy she was before. She uses her anger to push her forward, but she isn’t letting it take over her like Norea

- Poor Lauda is projecting his insecurities onto Suletta (though he isn’t really wrong.) He’s dedicated his life and self worth into supporting his brother, much like Suletta with Aerial, and now that Miorine’s the one by his side, he feels empty. He needs to come into his own as person and separate himself from his brother. I can only hope his adorable girlfriend Petra can help him through these times.

- Lauda and Felsi thanking Chuchu made me weak. They’re so honorable. But what shot me in the heart was Felsi’s smile and look back at Chuchu before she ran off. She loves that poofy girl so much. I’d love to see the two go to Earth and fight together

- I feel so bad for Martin. He did the right thing in reporting Nika because she never explained herself despite him giving her multiple chances, and he wanted to protect the rest of his friends. Dude’s carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, but his little therapy session just made it worse.

- WHAT THE FUCK SECELIA!

- Girl created a whole catholic confession booth on the school to figure out the student’s dirty secrets. Interesting thing though, is that it’s Rouji’s Haro instead of the normal ones. The normal Haro’s are connected to the authorities and report everything but since Rouji’s is custom, it probably doesn’t have that feature. And is Secelia doing this just because she likes gossip or because she’s now taking her job seriously and wants to weed out any dangerous individuals? Or is the Burion House sort of like a secret police that monitors everyone?

- Shaddiq ONCE AGAIN is a total snake, but he’s definitely bit off more than he could chew by meeting with Prospera. If Shaddiq is two steps ahead of our main cast, Prospera is at the top of the stairs ready to push him down

- Peil House is the worst group of people I’ve ever seen in my life. They literally just let a computer decide the fates of orphaned children and pick out which ones they’ll experiment on. Elan Prime was lucky. He could have ended up another Enhanced Person if fate decided to be a dick. Which probably only makes El5n even more pissed. Like, he could have been the special one, but instead some computer decided he wasn’t important enough

- Speaking of El5n, my beloved, tight lips my ass. Bro just spilled the whole tea on Peil to two random fugitives. Shows just how much he hates them. But poor Nika wasn’t expecting to have to deal with all that and now she’s floundering. Maybe she’ll start working on Gundams that don’t kill people. Also El5n calling out Norea and pointing out the similarities between each other all while she’s trying to stab him is hot and I ship them so hard. Nika should ask Sabina for a separate room or she’ll be witness to their hatefucking

- Finally we see the Schwarzette! There’s been so much discussion about this suit, what it was or who would pilot it, and now we get to see it in all its glory. We’ll have to see if the AI will take on the Permet strain or if it’ll hurt the pilot.

- If this anime wasn’t political already, then we’re about to get sooooo political. Miorine is gonna have a hard time connecting with the rioters considering her position and personality. Maybe Guel will be able to help her navigate, and maybe even use his Dawn of Fold connections. Personally, if they want to help, I think setting up field hospitals would be the first best step but that’s just me

- The swole chad Kenanji has now joined the group and I’m so excited. Bro was hyped up in the prologue and then dropped off the face of the earth. But considering he’s on the same spaceship as Prospera, I don’t think he’ll be getting out of it alive

- Eri’s a savage. She allowed Suletta to come to her just to tell her she’s ditching her. Like, I know she’s trying to help, but she could have been gentler. And activating the Permet really didn’t help either.

- Prospera actually does something nice and stops using Suletta for her revenge. But she still doesn’t explain anything and this leaves Suletta a sobbing broken mess out in space. Truly the mother of the year. But the way she defers to Eri shows that ultimately, she’s a broken woman who just wants her daughter back. Everything she’s done is all so she can be with Eri again, ignoring the thousands of people she’s trampled

Next episode is gonna be painful as well. I don’t expect good things to happen on Earth, especially not since karma magnet Guel and warcrime MILF Prospera are there. Also since Shaddiq was the title vocalist, maybe we’ll get more of his backstory?

[gloomy-gores-world]

I am going to make my stances on R-dqueers, Pr0-Sh!p3rs, and similar things clear in this post. Along with some personal experiences I have had.

R-dqueers:

I am against R-dqueers until the end of time.

I ended up getting "converted" aka groomed into being a R-dqueer in a discord server back around 2020.

The server advertised itself as a place where antis and R-dqueers could vibe together, discuss and learn about the other's views and identities. Since I was new to tumblr and Mogai/Liom spaces I joined. The main people in the sever were R-dqueers or their supporters. Which at the time I didn't realize was a major red flag. The server also had a space where users could make fun of DNI's. Another major red flag I didn't fully realize until far too late.

I do not feel comfortable going into full detail here on Tumblr about all that happened in that server.

However, The person who ran that sever deleted their mogai blog, or got it banned which had the invites to the server and everything else on it. So I am not going to say server name since it has most likely been deleted as well.

I recognize many things that I did and were involved with during that time were wrong. I am working on becoming a much better person. I am dealing with my mental health in a much better way now, than I was then. I recognize my apology may not be enough to fix and mend the relationship to those who I had hurt with my actions. And to them I will forever be sorry.

Pr0-sh1p3rs:

I am completely against what they currently stand for. The "Current" definition of pr*shipper is someone who ships anything, or encourages shipping things like illegal things such a family, kids x adults, people x animals and other gross things.

The original term originated during the early internet on forums because many people were against shipping characters. Especially characters whose relationships were not canon in the media. Which is how the term came to be. By taking the prefix pro, which means "for", and the word ship. It became pr*ship, meaning that you were for shipping characters. If you were a pr*shipper back then it meant you were for, or on the side of, shipping characters. The term anti-shipper was the opposite of pr*shipper, and still is.

However, due to the increase of easy access to social media in day to day lives many people ended blurring the definition due to mass spreading of misinformation. And so many people found out about the current definition of Pr*shippers. So as a way to damage reduce C*mshipper was made to separate the original definition pr*shippers from current definition pr*shippers. But the term still ended up getting muddled and blurred into having the same definition due to the misinformation of the pro in pr*shipper meaning problematic. As a result of anti shippers reporting and having pr*shipper accounts mass deleted and banned, pr*shippers came up with the term anti-antishipper as a clap back to anti-shippers becoming a bigger problem. Which ended up getting shortened to anti-anti.

Now the definitions are out of the way, I'm not a pr*shipper, just an autistic person who ended up in r*dqueer spaces where that was a common belief as well. Unfortunately for me, I subsequently ended up getting a Hyperfixation on the history of pr*shippers. I hate c*mshippers, anti-anti's, and new definition pr*shippers.

My personal views on shipping are: anti harassment, pro self-shipping, pro rare-pair ships, and pro multi-shippers. I will never support any illegal ships.

Tr-nsID's:

Due to my time in the r*dqueer community, I have a very complicated relationship with that umbrella term.

However I will say I am strongly against Tr-nsID's such as Tr-nsabled, Tr-nsage, Tr-nssharmful, Tr-snspecies, Tr-nsrace and those who support those Tr-nsID's. Especially those who encourage them to 'transition' without looking into it deeper and finding ways to alleviate the atypical dysphoria.

I have no problems with those who identify with the non tr-nsID definitions of Tr-nsrace, Tr-nsspecies and Tr-nsage.

I however support those who have atypical dysphoria and are looking at and using other ways besides to alleviate dysphoria, saving transition as a last resort. Especially those who have BIID.

Here's a resource that has helped me:

official-anti-rq-archive

[deconstructthesoup]

Was just thinking (again) about how in season 1 and season 2 of The Owl House, there are clear parallels in the premiere, quarter-season, mid-season, three-quarter-season, and finale episodes, so I thought I'd break them down

Premieres: A Lying Witch And A Warden/Separate Tides:

The "do not underestimate me/now eat this, sucka" speech is said at the very beginning, followed by an immediate tone shift (ALWAAW has the scene from the Good Witch Azura that leads into it being Luz doing her book report, ST has Luz facing off against Garlog before it being revealed that he's just a tiny gremlin)

Luz and King go on a dangerous mission together (ALWAAW has them sneak in and steal the crown, ST has them chase after the Selkiedomous)

"Us weirdos have to stick together" is said (you guys know the context)

We meet and fight a member of the Emperor's Coven, who kinda deviate from our expectations (Warden Wrath turns out to have a thing for Eda and is later revealed to be kinda sad, The Golden Guard is shown to have a cocky side and is later revealed to be... well, Hunter)

Quarter-Seasons: Covention/Through The Looking Glass Ruins

Cool lore details are revealed about the academic side of the Isles (Covention shows the Hexside kids working to join covens, TTLGR shows how cutthroat Glandus students are)

The clear flaws in the coven system and how magic is viewed are addressed (Covention shows how high-status the EC is, how the covens seal away your magic, and how Amity's need to succeed is wearing down on her, TTLGR shows the stigma around illusionists and how physical magic is valued over others)

The "show don't tell" rule is applied with a character who's been called strong showing off just how powerful they are (Eda and Lilith show off an incredible amount of skill in Covention, Gus goes full horror movie in TTLGR)

Lumity milestone (Luz and Amity reach an understanding in Covention and see a different side of each other, TTLGR has the cheek kiss)

Mid-Season (Escape of the Palisman/Yesterday's Lie)

Luz has to reckon with a mistake that she made and faces the consequences (EOFP sees her recklessness cause Owlbert to get hurt and she has to jump through hurdles to make it up to him, YL sees her finally tell her mother the truth and see how her leaving really did have consequences)

Very sad lore about a seemingly scary demon is revealed (The Bat Queen is shown to protect the lost Palismen due to having forgotten and lost her last owner, Vee shows a different side of the basilisks and tells Luz how they were made and experimented on)

Three-Quarter-Season (Understanding Willow/Hollow Mind)

A mishap leads to Luz and another character venturing into another character's mind (UW has Luz and Amity go into Willow's so they can fix the fire damage, HM has Luz and Hunter go into Belos's mind by mistake after the CAT plan fails)

The person's Inner Self initially manifests as something else (Willow's Inner Self is a fire monster at first before being revealed to just be overtaken by anger, Belos's inner self pretends to be a lost child before... yeah)

HUGE character-specific lore is revealed that completely changes the game (Amity shows us just how bad her home life is and how her parents pressured her into ditching Willow, Hunter finds out that he's a Grimwalker and Luz finds out that Belos is Philip and he's working with The Collector)

Finales (Young Blood, Old Souls/King's Tide)

The "with this spell declared" motif comes back (Lilith splits the curse in YBOS, Eda uses it to tell her she'll be all right in KT)

Eda nearly dies and loses a part of herself (petrification and loss of magic in YBOS, draining spell and loss of arm in KT)

Luz and Belos fight and Luz not only gets a hit in but thinks her way out of a situation (YBOS has Luz hitting Belos in the eye and cracking his mask, as well as double-crossing him with the portal, KT has her insult his fashion sense and brand him with the seal)

The portal is destroyed (you know how that shakes down)

[yourfellowhuman07]

Alliances of the Heart

A She-Ra: Princess of Power 2018 fanfiction

For centuries, the All Princess Ball has been a time for the nobility of Etheria to let loose. Flaunting their power, prestige, and fashion for all to see. The ball had always been politically neutral, but, as tension from the war rises, not everyone is so keen to forget what happens beyond the walls of Castle Chill.

Lord Hordak, along with Princess Scorpia and Force Captian Catra, have come to the party to make alliances and find out everything there is to know about their enemies. Careful to not arouse the suspicion of the Princess Alliance.

Princess Entrapta, being the scientist she is, decides to come to the party to decode the secrets of body language, despite getting the same data from every other party she has ever attended.

When the two rulers cross paths, their plans flip on their heads as the two grow closer. Now it is up to Catra and Scorpia to push the two together as Adora and Glimmer stick their noses where they do not belong.

________________

I apologize for not posting this soon enough today. I got really wrapped up in this novel called Daughter of the Moon Goddess, it's amazing please read it. Other than that, please enjoy this chapter.

________________

Chapter 3: Status Report

Catra and Scorpia sat together on a bed ringing in Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio.

“How did it go?” Lonnie sat the pad down on a table, Kyle and Rogelio sitting beside her.

“It went well, Lord Hordak found a war ally.”

“Who is it?”

“Princess Entrapta of Dryl, apparently she’s some big tech wiz.”

“I thought we didn’t like princesses?” Kyle inquired.

“This girl is no ordinary princess. She showed up in a pair of work coveralls and an oil-stained top. She cared more about scientific pursuits than making political moves.”

“What does Lord Hordak think of her?”

Catra and Scorpia gave a knowing look to each other.

“What happened?” Lonnie said raising an eyebrow.

“Only that we might have a Lady to go with our Lord.”

“Say what now?”

“First of all when the two first met they were sitting way too close for it to be a political discussion, and when there was a group dance they didn’t separate once.”

Lonnie and Rohelio looked at each other while Kyle looked puzzled.

“I didn’t even know he was capable of feeling anything but rage.” Rohelio and Scorpia sniggered.

“Alright, so Lord Hordak has a girlfriend, why do you care?”

“Because a happy Hordak equals an easier time for us. If he’s distracted by a pretty girl he’ll be down our backs less. You see?”

“I guess, but you better be sure about it. If he finds out you were screwing with him behind his back he will be livid, and I’m not getting in trouble because of your actions.” Kyle and Rohelio nodded in agreement.

“Trust me guys, I know what I’m doing.”

“You better.”

____________________________________________________________

Entrapta sat on her bed reviewing the data she collected from yesterday evening. Surprisingly, being in the crowd was not at terrible as predicted; granted, she spent most of the evening talking to Lord Hordak about tech, but a win is a win. There was just something so natural about being with him; it was like they both just clicked. She wished this week would end so she could see the Fright Zone in all its glory. She spent most of the night listening to Lord Hordak describe the place so her excitement was like a lit firework. Allying with Lord Hordak was the best decision she ever made.

Lord Hordak was a curious subject. She had never seen anyone like him before. Maybe, when she enters the Fright Zone he would be willing to tell her more about himself, but for now, she only has theories. Perhaps, he is a leftover from a lost species of Etheria. Maybe he was created through magical means, or he might be the result of a genetic experiment. Whatever he was, Entrapta wanted to know everything about him.

With the thought of her recently acquired ally, she remembered she would need the permission of the Drylian council. She slapped her palm against her face for forgetting an obvious fact. Without their consent, she could never go through with the alliance. By giving Lord Hordak the ok, she has completely bypassed the authority the elected officials possessed. Rolling her eyes, she took a moment to make herself presentable. She swapped out her pajamas for her work clothes and tied up her hair in her pigtails. She set up her datapad and begrudgingly called the seven members of the council. As her datapad buzzed, she masked the shades of annoyance across her face with layers of friendliness.

It wasn’t like she hated the council members. She appreciated their work, and they make her job as a monarch less strenuous. With their aid, she has more time to conduct whatever scientific excursions pass her mind. The only downside to their presence is that whatever steps she did take to better her kingdom they had to approve of every single move she makes. It was like she was kept on a leash, but she knew it was necessary. Without it, she would be allowed to run wild which could result in some rash decisions on her part. So, she deals with the restrictions of the council as best she can. Speaking of the council members, all seven of them had finally joined.

“Hello, your Royal Highness, I trust your visit to the Kingdom of Snows has been well.” greeted Morella, or Mother Morella of System One of Dryl. She was a kind middle-aged woman who represented the more hospitable parts of Dryl. Such as the shopping districts and family homes. When Entrapta’s parents died after a mining accident Morella always helped her, and Entrapta will be forever grateful for her.

“Yes, Miss Morella, it has gone well. I called this meeting to discuss the events of last night.”

“What happened.”

“Nothing bad… depending on your perspective.” How was she going to word this?

“What did you do?” Asked Lenox with his trademark icy tone. He was a lean man with small, dark eyes and an impeccable knack for finances. A talent that landed him the job of overseeing System Two, which mostly comprised banks and other big mining businesses. He and Entrapta often butt head over what he calls ‘exorbitant spending costs’. 

“I… may or may not have engaged in a political alliance with Lord Hordak of Scorponi.”

“What!” They all shouted, causing Entrapta to wince.

“Princess Entrapta, you do realize what allying Dryl with Scorponi means?” Asked General Vespas. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with streaks of silver hair contrasting against his ebony locks. Scars littered his body from his fights with the creatures that lived deep within the mines of Dryl.

“Yes, I do General Vespas. By allying ourselves with Scorponi we will gain their protection and trade. The Princess Alliance will also stop pestering us.” Despite her attempts at a neutral face, Entrapta’s nervousness was evident. She would be mortified if she had to tell Lord Hordak she withdraws her claims of allying with him. Would he hate her and seek to destroy her kingdom?

“What does Lord Hordak wish for in return?” Lenox inquired, always wary at the thought of ‘unnecessarily’ losing money, even though his spending habits say otherwise.

“He wishes to combine forces to strengthen his army, as well as my aid in building better battle bots by teaching him how to wield first one's tech.”

“My men have never seen a real battle, only the ones with monsters, never humans.”

“Lord Hordak and I have already spoken about that. He has agreed to take robotic forces, not humans.” The general nodded in agreement.

After ironing out the rest of the details six members agreed to the terms of the alliance. The only approval needed was from Haemal the overseer of System Six of Dryl. System Six was the deepest part of the mines where many creatures lurked in the shadows. He was a small elderly man with larger sapphire eyes and silver hair. The underside of his nails was black with dirt and scars from mining accidents littered his body.

“I will agree with the terms, but at the first sight of trouble you back out, understand?” Haemal had known Entrapta since the day she was born so he always was protective of her.

“I will Haemal, I promise.” With that six members of the council signed off, except Morella.

“Is something wrong Miss Morella?” Entrapta inquired.

“Oh nothing is wrong, sweetie. I was just wondering if there was any other reason you would wish to ally with Lord Hordak?” Morella asked, a playful smile lighting her aging eyes.

“I wish to learn more about his tech and the kingdom he rules,” answered Entrapta, who was confused by the woman’s question.”

“Anything else?”

“No ma’am.” Heat started to prickle Entrapta’s cheeks.

“Apologies Princess Entrapta, enjoy the rest of your festivities.” Before Entrapta could say anything else, Morella signed off. Leaving Entrapta staring at her reflection on the black screen. She took off her gloves and patted her pink cheeks. Her eyebrows knitted together, why had she reacted in such a way? She flopped down on her bed in frustration at her inability to read people, especially herself. 

___________________

Update: Miss Morella is whatever species inhabits Elberon. She has lilac skin and dark purple hair. Sorry for not mentioning this in the chapter. Perks of making everything up as you go.

[sasster]

Life and Death

Daseos belongs to @byrdstrolls! :)

[Doc]

—

“Father, you’re a necromancer right?” 

Her voice rings out against the silence, drawing your wandering thoughts from the light drizzle misting across the ground and back into your head. The voice is a familiar one, one of the students from the school. A decidedly troubled one from what the recent reports had to say of the matter.

You never took it upon yourself to pass judgment on such matters, but were happy to hear it was resolved with very little conflict surrounding the event.

When you open your eyes you find yourself staring into the determined eyes of the young jade blood. It must have taken a considerable amount of energy to send her across the garden for this conversation.

“I believe necromancy carries with it a specific connotation.” You respond as you move over in order to make room for her to sit under the tree, indicated with a soft pat on the ground. “I think that this is not your real or only question. Will you join me?”

Daseos seems to deflate from the initial response, but then like any young child with curiosity left unsated she puffs her chest out and grips the strap of her bag, fixing you with a stern look before she plops down to sit in the empty space.

She does not seem to mind the wetness of the grass.

“What troubles you, Daseos?”

The breath trapped in her chest escapes in the form of a sigh.

“What happens when you die?”

“That is a very big question,” you muse, now only able to watch her from the peripheral. “One that does not have a very satisfying answer.”

She shifts, anxious thoughts manifesting in the form of tiny hands that pluck absently at the surrounding grass.

“What happens?”

“It varies from troll to troll.”

“But what happens?”

You turn your head to look at her, her resolve looks close to cracking. Stubborn ropes of tenacity hold it all together.

“Some trolls report a dreamlike experience. Others find themselves incapable of describing it. They say they experience total oblivion.”

She nods, but furrowed brows sour her expression.

“No one has reported any feelings of torment.”

That comment seems to soften her a bit, and she slumps back against the tree. You did not have the full answer to her question, but she was at least partially satisfied with what was offered.

More mounds of grass and dirt are disrupted by her restless hands.

“Digging for worms? Or burying another question?”

“I’m digging for worms and the question.” She says with all of the confidence of a six sweep old. “I’m not burying anything.”

“Of course.”

There is a beat of silence, the rain is picking up.

“How does it feel to bring people back to life?”

“This one I am much more qualified to answer.”

She responds by drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

“The spirit is confused and angry. It wants to be reunited with its body and swirls restlessly in my palms. Sometimes it is incredibly difficult to hold, yet it is light as a feather.”

Daseos says nothing as you speak, rapt attention roots one of her hands back into the disturbed earth. She balls that hand into a fist around clumps of grass and dirt as if trying to grasp at a spirit herself.

“It begins to feel as though death is drawn to you, but this is because of the ability to create and recreate life.” Something sparks behind her eyes. You think that she does not notice that your words start to patch the holes in her resolve. “Life and death do not exist separate from one another.”

Daseos swallows and pulls both of her hands before her eyes. It is clear now that she came here unsure of what she was looking for, unsure of what your answers could possibly do for her in the grand scheme.

She sits like that wordlessly for a moment.

“I have found that creating life is never as hard as taking one.” You hold your hand out, palm facing upward. “I never have to grab for it, the life I am looking for finds its way to me. I only need to open myself up to the search.”

She looks at your hands and then mimics the motion, palms facing the sky as the shower above finally breaks.

[wibble-wobbegong]

Jack the Ripper and ST: Part 2, ‘Eddy’ Victor and James Stephen

Among the hundreds of suspects for who really was Jack the Ripper, one of the strongest contenders was actually a duo; Prince Albert ‘Eddy’ Victor and James Kenneth Stephen.

In part 1, I emphatically argued for Edward’s role as JTR, but he may not have been working totally alone. Of the four suspects I’ll discuss in these parts, Eddy fits with Edward extremely well and the only reason he wasn’t taken in as JTR was because it would’ve been physically impossible for him to be in the place of the murders. That wouldn’t exactly be an issue for our Edward, would it?

Below the cut, I’ll establish parallels because they’re genuinely just as interesting than the murders themself, the relationship Eddy and James had, how they would’ve functioned as murderers vs how Edward and his partner did function as murderers, and how both of them died.

Establishing Parallels

Edward

First, the most obvious of parallels, names. Prince Albert Victor os the name he’s known by historically, but his full name was Albert Victor Christian Edward and the name the world called him was Eddy.

In his full name we see direct connections to Victor, Edward’s father, Christianity (which is a major theme in the show after the Creels are introduced), and, of course, Edward. The prince could’ve paralleled Victor Creel, but he chooses to go by Eddy. Not Victor, not even Edward, but Eddy. Now, this guy definitely is meant to parallel Edward Creel when we look at his childhood (which we will), but his choice of going by Eddy not only reinforces Eddy being Edward, but it contributes to the theory of Edward becoming Eddie by overtaking his corpse as his own mangled body is unusable after the burns — aka, Eddie puppet theory.

Even more than just the names, there were reports of Eddy as a child that sound eerily similar to our own Creel history. It was said that Eddy had an, “…elegant and possessive mother… ‘want of manliness’… ‘shrinking from horseplay’… [and a] ‘sweet, gentle, quiet and charming’ nature.” That doesn’t sound familiar? Try this one.

“…they would like to make a man of the world of him. Into that world he refused to be initiated.”

Come on.

Eddy also had a younger brother, born so close in age they were treated like twins. They went through education together and the educators refused to separate them because, without his brother, Eddy’s teachers felt like they could not teach him. He was far too “mentally absent”. Broken, if you will.

Again?

thanks em

Another fun little experience Eddy had once he was older was with Oscar Browning, who, “made pets of those undergraduates who were handsome and attractive.”

I’m not even gonna say it because I hate it!

Even moreso, his family held the high expectation for him to marry a woman who was charming, sensible, and pretty. He failed to achieve this goal several times, likely because he was homosexual.

Peter

Yeah. He’s here because god forbid I make ONE post without him working his way in. Here’s a real nice parallel to James Stephen — where Peter is most heavily noticed by the Saint Peter painting in the Russian church, James Stephen was a member of the Apostles intellectual society. Saint Peter us one of Jesus’ twelve Apostles.

James Stephen also has a cousin names Virginia Woolfe! This would also mean that Edward and Peter were likely cousins, seeing as Virginia is Edward’s sister, and then being cousins…. is really fucking funny.

I love it when bad couples parallel bad couples.

One more little thing is that James Stephen was a poet, and much of what he wrote can reflect the show with mentions of curses and melodies,

as well as the concept of twins demonstrating the contrast and similarity as a huge theme in mankind.

Peter’s parallels may not seem strong right now, but it’s hard to draw a ton of parallels to a character who doesn’t yet exist. Just trust me.

Homosexuality

When James and Eddy met, it was because James had been chosen to tutor Eddy before he was to be sent to Trinity College. While Eddy would’ve been 24, figuring out the time this took place in Edward’s life isn’t difficult because of the Brenner figure I mentioned earlier. Eddy met the man who would treat people as his pets during his first semester at Trinity College, which draws the comparison between the lab and the college, effectively placing Peter and Edward’s time right before Edward was sent off to Brenner. Makes pretty damn good sense if they’re meant to be an alternate version of Creelarke.

I’d like to consider this time to be when Peter and Edward were in some sort of summer program together, or something similar. This post by @aemiron-main points out the very likely possibility of Owens being Edward’s father and how, although I have called Peter Owens’ son in the past, the inly information we have that connects him to Owens is that he has Peter’s old school projects. Considering the summer camp is directly connected to both Ruth and Rose being in the same place as Petey McHew, we get this: Rose (Creel), Ruth (Owens), and Petey (Peter) were all in the same place at the same time during the summer.

It’s possible that Owens, as Edward’s father, had Peter help Edward in a summer school before they moved to Hawkins for the new school year.

This relationship is especially fascinating because James was a Christian man who actively participated in Christian activities (see; apostles society) — it’s likely this summer was teaching more than math and science. Where Hames was highly intellectual in comparison to Edward, this may translate to Peter’s greater success at pretending to be normal and straight compared to Edward’s ability to do the same.

Any feelings James felt for Eddy were very intense despite this. Strong enough to write about hating a specific woman and a specific man in his poem Men and Women. He was enraged by everything about this woman and this man was described in grief as his body became vacant of his soul and was nothing more than a corpse. He also mentions a missing eye replaced with glass in this man. Familiar?

It’s all familiar because the duffers fucking hate me and want me dead.

James also killed himself because of Edward’s death. By the way. What normal, heterosexual behavior.

Eddy was also heavily accused of homosexuality numerous times throughout his life by family, friends, press, and even historians. It wasn’t just James either, oh no, the entire Cleveland Scandal (involvement with a homosexual brothel) followed him for the rest of his life.

These bitches gay.

As Murderers

Here’s where things get really interesting.

1886 — two years before the Whitechapel murders — James suffered a massive head injury. He was struck by an object from a moving train, permanently altering his brain.

His behavior quickly devolved and he became deluded that he was a painter of great genius…

…and he eventually proclaimed that the doctors told him he would either die or go completely mad.

He was committed to an asylum in 1891.

Not only is the Phineas Gage parallel coming back, it’s being tied to the time Will was being used as a puppet by Edward. Edward learned that tactic from somewhere.

In the theory that James and Eddy were a murderous duo, it was suspected that James was the one controlling Eddy because his profile matches JtR so well. His hatred for women and mental status are the source of this belief. Their relationship in murder was described as, “…mutually dependent, with Stephen as the dominant partner.”

This dynamic could very sell explain why there’s so much puppetry in Vecna’s image.

i ran out of image room :(

Although Peter is no longer an active participant, Edward is still being guided by his ideals. Puppeteered, even. It isn’t something he rejects.

There are so, so many parallels between characters in ST and JtR’s victims, but this is already long. I’ll simply say that the death of Mary Jane Kelly is extremely similar to what we see in Mother Alice’s bedrooom, and I already pointed out the F in the first part. I’d only recommend looking into MJK if you’re very comfortable with looking at gore.

Also, Eddy’s tomb is surrounded by Saints. Peter follows him to death and beyond (which is about to be really ironic).

Deaths

I’ll keep this bit quick.

James died in 1892 due to mania triggered by the death of Eddy. He starved himself for 20 days as an act of suicide, seeing as he was in an asylum and didn’t have many choices. The timeline would indicate that Peter died in 1964, which also happens to be the year Kali was born in London.

That deserves its own post I think.

More importantly is Eddy’s death. Supposedly, he died if pneumonia, but it is theorized that his death was faked to remove him from his line of succession to the throne, which is cool on its own but what makes it really good is that media chose Eddy to be the one who takes the Dracula persona I mentioned in part 1. There was also a novel written after his death called the The Prince of Mirrors which is about his life with James.

There also happens to be a Sherlock Holmes interpretation of him in Sherlock Holmes: The Hidden Years, which shows him as a tyrannical ming who rules after the mysterious deaths of his grandmother and father. The throne he supposedly died to be removed from.

There’s a lot influencing this after-death image of Eddy in Dracula and kingship, which makes Vecna’s name of the Undying King pretty ironic.

[zacs-of-rwby]

Hows about "I need to make this work. I can't stop now." You can pick the au/characters!

Thank you for the prompt, anon! I had a lot of fun coming up with an idea for this one 😆 probably won't come as a surprise that I ended up setting this in the Halfway House AU. Hope you enjoy the HH!Dadpin content 🤗

Dark and quiet. Peaceful and calm.

It was almost eerie how serene the house became at this time of night, when the kids were all in bed and the lights were all turned out. Oz cherished the silence, taking comfort in the fact that another day had come and gone.

As he did one last sweep of the first floor before calling it a night, he was surprised to see gold light pouring into the hall from the kitchen.

Perhaps Oscar just left the light on.

Oz entered the room expecting to find it empty. He thought all of the children were in bed.

“Oscar?” Oz prompted.

The boy lifted his head from off the table, his bloodshot eyes revealing his exhaustion with one desperate look.

“What are you doing awake, my love? I thought you were going to bed after you finished your project.”

“I’m not done yet,” Oscar choked, holding onto the tears that were clearly building up.

“You’re not done? You’ve been working diligently since you got home this afternoon.”

Scraps of paper with bits of information, graphs, and title cards lay strewn about the kitchen table. An empty poster board rested on the chair beside Oscar. The fallen remains of a science project not yet complete.

Oscar clenched his teeth, “The stupid experiment took twice as long as I thought it would! I still have to put the poster together and finish the display for the science fair!”

Oz put a comforting hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go to bed, son? It can wait ‘til morning.”

“No! It can’t!” Oscar shouted. “It’s due tomorrow! I need to make this work, I can’t stop now.”

Oz nodded, picking up one of the paragraphs of Oscar’s report. “How did you want to organize it?”

Frustration still in his voice, Oscar pointed to three separate sections of the poster and explained, “I was gonna put the hypothesis here, the observations here, and the results over here, at the end.”

Oz followed along carefully, mapping out the format in his head. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll take it from here.”

“Really? You will?” The boy’s eyes lit up with a sense of relief.

“Yes, really. It’s not worth all this stress. Go, get some sleep. You’ve earned a break.”

Oscar launched himself into Oz’s arms. “Thank you, Dad! Thank you!”

“Of course, my little prince,” Oz said, hugging his son tight and kissing him on the top of his head. “You know I would do anything for you.”

[the-fluffiest-trainer]

so much for letting me record like this, Professor.

Oh, it’s no trouble! By all means, go ahead.

> Second voice detected. Apply voice distinction coloring?

Yes, please. Oh, it doesn’t… Um, Professor, could you… press that little button for me?

> Y

> Voice distinction mode enabled. Voice [2] will be denoted in blue text.

There we go…

Excellent! I do think it’s a wonderful idea for you to have one of those devices, and to meet other Fallers or people who know them. My partner Lys’s company manufactures those, did you know?

No, I didn’t realize.

I’ll have to ask if we can get a new model that doesn’t rely on the use of hands. Though, I suspect Lys may be working on that already… which leads me to what I really wanted to talk with you about, Fluttershy.

What’s that?

My primary area of professional research is in pokemon evolution. I see you’ve had some firsthand experience with the subject already, as I clearly remember sending you a fennekin rather than a braixen. However, recently I have been involved in an entirely separate project, and I have not been working alone.

Your friend, Twilight Sparkle, is here in Kalos as well. She fell some several months before you, and, after making her way to Lumiose City in search of knowledge, she asked if I would help research the phenomenon of Fallers… specifically, to find out if her friends were here, and if she could return home. It seems she’s had some experience with traveling to other worlds before, actually, if not entirely in the same way.

Twilight is here? Not just in this world, but in this region, nearby? Are the rest of our friends here as well? Wait, but you said… How could Twilight have been here for so long? We were all together, right before I fell.

The links between worlds do not always respect time the way we might wish – though sets of Fallers from the same world are a known occurrence. As far as any of us has been able to tell, Twilight was the first from Equestria. Two other ponies arrived in other regions, far away, which we heard about via that same social media you’re using now. And with that data, your friend was able to predict the time and location of the fourth Equestrian portal… yours.

That’s how you found me! Twilight knew I was coming, and so you had Shauna and Calem and the others come to meet me.

Yes. They are children, but that only means they are on a similar journey of discovery as your own, and so are good companions for one in your position.

Yeah… Shauna’s nice. I haven’t seen quite as much of the other kids, but I like them. Though, one question, if I may…

Yes?

Do you know how we got here? Why we all fell?

Ah, yes, well… if you remember nothing… I think I should let Twilight explain that part to you herself.

Is she here?

Unfortunately not. She wanted to be present for your arrival, but was called away for research assistance yesterday. I believe the group was headed west on Route 5, though don’t quote me on that.

I really want to meet up with her again. With all of my friends. I should try to catch up to her and let her know I arrived safely.

Of course. Though I would remind you, not all your friends have arrived in this world yet. I have seen the reports of a pink “talking ponyta” terrorizing the cooks and bakers of Galar, and a rainbow-haired one reportedly training a fearsome pokemon team in Sinnoh, but that leaves…

Applejack and Rarity aren’t here yet.

No, but I imagine they will be soon enough… somewhere. Perhaps Twilight can predict the next portal’s time and place as she did yours. I’m afraid I don’t entirely understand her calculations myself. Lys probably would, but… sadly, also not here at the moment.

I should let you go now, but there is one other thing I wanted to give you. No, two other things, actually. First, a pokemon that Twilight caught and left here for you. This is

Oh, they’re adorable! Hi there little cutie, my name is Fluttershy. What’s yours?

mrraow

Oh, Sienna, that’s a lovely name!

...Twilight said her name was Muffin.

mrrp! miaaow.

Twilight called her that because she can’t talk to animals like I do, but either name is fine, it sounds like.

Excellent! It looks like you two are getting along already. Now, the other thing, I wanted to make sure you know how to use the full capabilities of that holocaster, specifically for interacting with other Fallers. Not just to here, but Fallers into other versions of this same world, who might be walking around an alternate Kalos or even talking to an alternate me.

There are other worlds just like this one?

Yes, an infinite number, according to what few Faller experts we have anyway. You may even have spoken across the gaps already without realizing it. If I may take the device for a moment…

Oh! Yes, here you go. I’ll stop the recording and you can show me everything. Now, what w