#but he will learn very concretely about the things he’s still rose colored glasses about

[honeybeejohn]

personally i believe a theme of S3 is going to be about absolutely schooling aziraphale.

i love that angel sm but as much as crowley has his things to learn he knows what’s Up, literally. aziraphale will be schooled every episode and it will hurt him (and us) but he will grow and there will inevitably have an ending where both of them were just enough right about things to come together and make Things right

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.1: Young Yunichika

1. FIRST TOUCH

For this whole series, just imagine that everyone except Haijima is talking in dialect

Translation Notes

1. Itoko (従姉妹) is the Japanese word for cousin, so Kuroba’s itoko is Itoko, it’s a pun

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Continuing to fall almost nonstop since New Years’ Eve, the snow completely buried the school building right after winter break. It was just like a drifting classroom isolated in the gaps of space-time. The window glass that was pure-white with condensation cut off any connection to the outside world, and the air warmed by the stove amassed in the classroom without circulating. Steam rose gently from the brass basin that was placed on the stovetop, and the air near the ceiling appeared to flicker.

The old school building seemed to be creaking under the weight of the snow, and he was afraid that it was going to collapse, but it had held up every year without any problems. If only somewhere else in the school—like around the principal’s office—had been crushed flat, the talks of renovation would have proceeded quickly.

I mean, Grandpa can just make a donation. Should I try asking him seriously this time?

He thought that for a moment, but there was no doubt that he would have graduated by the time the new school building was completed, so that was a little silly. The middle school in the neighboring Suzumu City, which he had visited before at a town exchange event, was a new, clean, and sturdy reinforced concrete building, and the entire building was warm even though there were no kerosene heaters to be seen anywhere. He received a culture shock when he learned that the toilets were not cold.

I wanna be in high school soon, he thought vaguely. Since there were no high schools in town, you would have to go to Suzumu City for the closest one. However, the one year and three months until graduation was a length that could be called an eternity.

Fourteen years old. He had finally just started the third semester of his second year of middle school.

“The transfer student’s late, isn’t he?”

After performing the penance of opening ceremony in the frigid gym, Kuroba Itoko said and she hung her behind on the edge of his desk during the strangely slow waiting time after they returned to the classroom. “Heave ho,” she said as she wriggled her butt back to put her thighs on his desk, so Kuroba Yuni reflexively removed his chin resting in his hands on the desk and leaned back. This is just a bit embarrassing, oi… Even if all the female middle and high school students in the city did it, it was hard to understand why so many girls were shortening their skirts when the circumstances in this snowy country was different.

Itoko’s class was Class 2 next door, but she often made trips to Class 1. From entry to elementary school to middle school graduation, the faces in each grade didn’t change fundamentally, so everyone knew each other even though the classes were different. She seemed to have gotten some kind of information from the group of Class 1 girls who were still talking at the doorway even now.

That was right, a transfer student was arriving. There was no small amount of excitement in the air in Class 2-1 for the big event of the new semester, which was rarely encountered. It was a depopulating town where the number of people in school decreased, but rarely increased. What was more, apparently the transfer student was coming from Tokyo, so the expectations were high no matter what.

“I wonder if he’ll be cute. I hope he’ll be cute.”

“He has a normal face. Maybe a bit below normal.”

“You knew him until you guys were in senior kindergarten, right? He might have gotten cute.”

“I’m telling you, he didn’t. He’s going to be a pipsqueak with glasses who’s bad at sports. He became a wuss who’d get scared by this amount of snow...”

“What’s with you, are you sulking? You really are a little kid…”

“Shut up. I told you stop acting like you’re my big sister. The teacher’s coming soon so get back to your own class.”

As soon as he told her to stop, Itoko said, “Yes, yes, what a hopeless kid” with the utmost superior look on her face, shrugged her shoulders and jumped down from the table. Her short skirt fluttered lightly.

“I’m wearing underpants, so there’s no use peeking.”

“Did you make knitted panties? So ugly. I don’t get why you try so hard to look like that.”

“Being stylish is all about grit.”

Brushing aside the unintentional insult that rushed out of his mouth, Itoko slipped through the gaps between the messily aligned desks. Since she didn’t deny the knitted panties, did that mean that was true?

Kuroba Yuni and Kuroba Itoko had the same family name, but they were not siblings. It either made it confusingly similar or easy to understand, but…Itoko was his cousin. (1) They had the same grandfather and their fathers were brothers. She always acted like his older sister, but they were the same age, and since Kuroba was born in September and Itoko was born in October, he wanted to assert the fact that he was the one who was older.

She turned her miffed face away and rested her chin in her hands again. Kuroba’s seat was at very back by the window—until today. When he came to school today, a brand new desk and chair was brought in behind him.

He wiped the condensation on the window with his palm. Even when he cleared away the white film, all you could see beyond it was a blanket of white snow. The snow had stopped for now, but heavy snow clouds remained in the sky, and it wouldn’t be unusual if it started snowing some time again. There was a narrow path created from the school gate to the building sandwiched between walls of snow, but since the snow removal operation in the early morning, it had gotten buried again by the continuing snow.

He squinted outside the window to see if there was anything visible in the white. He was a slow and clumsy kid, so I hope he didn’t get stuck buried in the snow or something…

The truth was, Kuroba took pride in the fact that he was looking forward to the transfer student more than anyone else, a hundred or a thousand times more than Itoko or his classmates. Even though he was supposed to have finished moving house during winter break, he showed no indication of coming over to his house to show his face, so he was just a little frustrated about that and his excitement went down. They parted with each other in senior kindergarten, so it had been eight years. He wondered if he had been thoroughly steeped in Tokyo and forgot about this place.

Although, it wasn’t as if Kuroba remembered a lot either. He could remember meaningless episodes like what he did to get injured or what he did to get scolded, but as soon as he tried to systematically trace his memories, they became hazy. Like a snow scene that became misty with a glass that was already clouding over again—

In the midst of the white, he could see a flicker of something black moving.

Surprised, he half-rose to his feet and pasted himself to the window. There were two figures walking in the gorge between the walls of snow that seemed like they could collapse at any minute.

“…He’s here!”

He unintentionally exclaimed, and the miscellaneous chatter that filled the classroom quickly faded. There was a beat, and then shouts of joy rose. His more than thirty classmates surged towards the window and lined their faces.

The smaller figure, dressed in a stocky blouson down coat, was an old lady when he looked closer. So that means the other, bigger figure was…? Wait, how can he be that big…He was confused for a moment because he didn’t match his image of that kindergarten kid.

However, as soon as he strained his eyes and looked into his face, a warm-colored lantern lit up the snowy landscape of his white hazy memory, and a fresh image appeared in his mind.

“I’ll never forget you, Yuni… But, goodbye…”

Certainly, there was the face of a crying kindergartener who came to say goodbye to him while sobbing eight years ago. His pale face was drenched with tears, and even his glasses were wet. No matter how much he wiped them with his hands, large drops of tears continued to run down his cheeks, so much that he was worried that he was going to squeeze all the water out of his body.

That’s right, the glasses. He was already wearing glasses in kindergarten, and that might have helped giving him an introverted and quiet impression. Glasses and short and bad at sports. That was exactly his impression at that time. Once he remembered one thing, the vivid parts increased one after the other. One lantern lit a new lantern, and it became brighter and brighter.

Immediately, he stopped caring about how he didn’t come to see him over winter break or any of those small grievances. With impatient hands, he unfastened the screw lock on the window frame and threw open the window. The cold wind blew in and his classmates reproached him with “It’s so cold—“, but everyone’s voices bounced off him. Fine snowflakes blown up together with the wind struck his face. He shook his head and brushed away the snow.

“Chika!”

He leaned so far out the window that it looked like he was about to fall down and raised his voice.

The figure stopped and looked up. His eyes met his through thin-framed glasses. How will he react at first? His heart was beating fast from the anticipation.

He just reacted in such an indifferent way, like he just happened to exchange lines of sight with a stranger. He moved his face down without changing expression and disappeared into the shade of the eaves of the school entrance. The old lady who was left behind bowed slightly like she was troubled and followed after him, her snow boots making crunching noises.

Huh…? Did he…forget me?

Feeling let down, Kuroba stood stock still near the window. The two footprints that continued from the school gate were swept away by the white snow-mixed wind as the hanging lanterns that lit his memories went out with a puff.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Haijima Kimichika-kun came from Tokyo. It seems that his grandfather’s house is in town, and he lived in Suzumu City until kindergarten. Perhaps some of you might know him.”

The gazes of everyone in the class was focused on the gangly school uniform standing at the teacher’s podium. How tall is he, it looks like he’s about the same as me? Kuroba thought absentmindedly as he stared at the small tip on the first stroke of “Hai” from the family name that was written vertically on the blackboard by the homeroom teacher. From among the three past elements of glasses, being tiny, and bad at sports, the glasses remained and pipsqueak disappeared. The remaining unknown was his motor skills.

He had a pale, smooth face and a rather neat set of features. If he had to decide between strong or weak, he would say they were weak. Depending on how you looked at it, they might look reptilian. At the very least, the characteristics of an idol-like pretty boy that Itoko had sweetly hoped for were nonexistent. To be frank, he seemed unfriendly. He still hadn’t smiled even once since he entered the classroom. He didn’t even try to look around at his classmates’ faces, just pursing his lips together and staring at his feet. Hmm, shyness?

“Kuroba-kun.”

Suddenly called on by the teacher, he made a stupid “Yeah?” sound.

“Haijima-kun played volleyball in his last school, so he will be joining the volleyball team. Please teach him about the team activities. Also, Haijima-kun’s eyesight is not good, but as you can see, he is tall, so you will move a seat behind. He will be the second from the back by the window.

Still without saying a word or even making a sound, Hajima nodded, took his bag and descended from the podium. Everyone’s interested gazes moved with his movements. As he turned twice at right angles and walked over to him without hesitation, Kuroba hurriedly got up as though to jump out of the way, and he put his bag on Kuroba’s seat with a thump before sitting down.

“Oh,” When Kuroba started to talk to him,

“…?”

He glared at him with a sideways glance, looking suspicious. What he placed on his desk was a somewhat stylish dark red backpack that looked like something from a school in the city, and had a somewhat stylish, unfamiliar school emblem embroidered on it.  

“No…it’s fine.”

Kuroba took the seat behind his, thinking, Well, if he’s fine with it, then I guess it’s okay. Unlike his desk, which had scribbles carved all over it with a cutter, the desk prepared for Haijima was still brand new, the surface shining brightly.

“Hey, how tall are you? You’re seventy, right?”

He leaned over the desk, poked the back before him and started talking to him. Kuroba was 173 centimeters. He had heard that the average height for second-year middle school boys was around 160, so he was on the considerably tall side.

Haijima turned around, looking like he couldn’t be bothered. His narrow eyes glared at him again. A gaze where you couldn’t feel anything like charm or friendliness at all, as if all the temperature was absorbed while passing through the thin lens of his glasses.

“Your position?”

That was the first sound he made since entering the classroom. Similar to his eyes, the way he spoke made you wonder if he had thrown away all his charm and friendliness at a station on the express train ride here from Tokyo. His voice finished changing…maybe? He had a low voice that carried well. It was just a bit frustrating.

“On the volleyball team?”

Haijima raised his eyebrows and repeated his words when Kuroba was just staring at him vacantly. Huh? His intonation felt strange. He was speaking in standard Japanese. Has it always been that way? It shouldn’t be like that, though.

“Oh, oooh, that’s what you meant by position?” This guy talked in a way that lopped off the context before and after his words. “Well, let’s see, I feel like we didn’t really decide them…”

“You didn’t decide? What do you do in matches?”

“Matches? Ah…”

He hadn’t heard that word in a long time. After gaping like it was someone else’s problem,

“We’ve never been in a proper match. It’s a club of guys who only belong to it in name only, and the practice days are whenever. Look, you have to join a club here. Don’t you know that?”

An expression that actually looked like an expression appeared on Haijima’s face, it looked like. Though it was only slightly, his narrow eyes widened—is this shock? And then his eyes suddenly lowered, his mouth turning down at the corners. Is this sadness?

“Oh, was your old school really strong?”

Crap, I might make him cry. He didn’t really understand, but he felt that he said something wrong, and when he panickily tried to stay on topic,

“Tch…”

He heard that. No way, did he click his tongue just now?

“So you’re just uselessly big?”

He heard a sudden, unbelievable insult from the mouth of the transfer student, who one would think would be generally burning with the desire to build good relationships with the people at his new school. With that, Haijima abruptly faced forward and started emitting an aura of “Don’t ever talk to me” from his back. Kuroba could do nothing but stare at that amazingly obstinate back with his mouth wide open.

“I’ll never forget you, Yuni… But, goodbye…”

Which station did you lose the “Chika” from eight years ago who was sobbing because he didn’t want to say goodbye?

Previous || Index || Next

[zims-left-shoe]

Hi, omg I love your stuff. Could I please request a tallest red x human female? I dont really have a specific idea. Just some fluff or headcannons is fine. Thank you so much. ILY😘

Yeah, of course! There’s a lot of dialogue, but I promise there’s fluff in the end!

Everything had been going so well. Until it didn’t.

A quiet moan of pain slipped out of your mouth as you continued to stay curled in fetal position on some hard surface, most likely a floor. Experimentally, you attempted to open your eyes, only to have your vision swamped by flashing saturated colors. You screwed your eyes shut again, drowning in the disorientation. There were probably voices around you, but they reached your ears as incoherent mumblings. Apparently, humans weren’t meant for instant intergalactic teleportation across schmillions of light years.

You were unsure of how long you had been laying wherever you were, nor did you suppose it mattered. Ever since you had been mildly conscious, you had been trying to recall what exactly had happened, without much luck. However, the second you had stopped caring about the preceding events, they all hit you with the force of twenty one bullet trains.

-

"Behold! Doesn't it amaze you?!" A very short alien gestured wildly to a glowing portal, grinning madly as if he couldn't believe his own genius. 

"Yes, Zim. It's very nice." Smiling uneasily, you nodded, your palms becoming slick with sweat. Over the years, you had learned to just agree with whatever Zim said, things went over much smoother that way. However, that didn't mean you weren't worried. Whatever Zim created tended to backfire...violently. Or explode. Or not work as intended. Or all of the above.

"Okay? But what does it even do?" The other human in the room spoke, more openly skeptic than you were. Purple light reflected off of his glasses as he shuffled through papers of calculations, which he couldn't read anyway, considering they were written in Irken. "Or, more accurately, what is it supposed to do?" 

"You imply that Zim's inventions never work as they should, Dib-stink!" Zim crossed his arms and turned away from Dib, clearly less than pleased with his lack of enthusiasm.

"That's because they don't!"

"Name one time!"

"Shall we take a look in The Cabinet?" The man decked out in black and blue thrusted an arm out towards a cabinet threatening to explode with close to ten years' worth of records of failed plans. Zim growled, lunging at Dib who was bent over in laughter. Before he could get very far, you grabbed the Irken's ankle, yanking him back. 

"That's enough, you two. Honestly. Act your age." The two disgruntled men grumbled complaints under their breath, but ceased their childish antics. If you hadn't known them for years, you wouldn't have believed that these two were now adults. "Now, Zim, could you kindly tell us what this thing does?" Your voice was soft and patient, hoping to set him back on track. He tended to become distracted quite often. 

"Yes! It's a portal that will allow the instant transportation of anything, the range being the entire universe!" He spread his arms wide, a laugh already bubbling up in his throat. Dib groaned and rolled his eyes.

"I thought you were working on the Irken conversions so I could finish my part on the ship." You couldn't help but crack a smile. Their ship was never going to be finished at this rate. 

"Yes, but this is much more important! I have an ingenious plan for it!"

"Enlighten us." Dib spoke flatly, still not convinced.

Zim pulled out a box wrapped up like a gift, complete with a neat little pink bow. "Zim will send this to my Tallest using the portal! Trust me, they'll love what's in here." Light from the portal glinted menacingly off of his teeth. The box made hushed mewling noises and began to ooze green goo.

"Is...is it alive?" Your voice was cautious. You took a step back when the box began to shake in his hands, bumping your back against one of the many machines in his lab.

"Zim, we've talked about this. The Tallest don't care, Irk has abandoned you, let it go. You know as well as I do that your mission isn't real, and that it's over." Dib sighed, not with frustration, more so pity. A few years ago when Zim had finally got it through his thick skull that his mission was a trick, it had devastated him to a point that no one had ever seen. You saw how much he needed a job, and Dib did as well. Dib had an issue with it in the beginning, but you both took him in, using his science skills to aid in Dib's personal projects. The last plan you were aware of was that the two were working on a ship of their own that would let them travel space together, something about Dib getting presentable proof of alien life while at the same time giving Zim a purpose. Zim seemed to have forgotten about Irk. Until now, at least.

"Don't worry about it! It's...a parting gift." The look in Zim's eyes brought you great discomfort. "Only a symbol of the termination of my service to the empire. That is all." His voice was pleasant enough, but you sensed some dark undertones. His fingers danced away on the controls, a dull hum echoing through the base as the portal fired up it's key functions. 'The Massive' and some coordinates became displayed on the screen above the portal, the destination locked in. 

"Zim…" Dib took a step forward, as did you. "You've had plenty of bad ideas, but I think this one is going to take the cake. So just shut the thing off." Zim shrugged his concerns off, stepping closer to the portal with the box that was becoming more aggressive the closer it came. Red light emitted from a lens at the top of the portal as it scanned the box in Zim's hand.

"Scan complete. Item composition: deadly. If transported, item will cause half of the universe to implode." The voice of the computer drawled. Your eyes widened as you looked to Zim, who acted as if he didn't hear the warning. More likely, he didn't care. When did he ever? He brought his arm back as he stood in front of the portal, preparing to throw the box.

Although it happened in the course of only a split second, it all was in slow motion for you. Without thinking, you took off, sprinting across the small room and leaping at Zim, harshly shoving him and the box out of the way of the portal. You had managed to prevent the tragedy of space implosion, but unfortunately, your forward motion continued, sending you through the portal. You had heard Dib's scream, but it sounded a million miles away. Your brain couldn't comprehend what had happened during the course of the teleportation, so it put you out of your misery, allowing you to pass out. 

-

"Ugh...Zim. Of course." You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes with closed fists. You were slouched over, and once the static finally cleared from your vision, you blinked several times until your eyes adjusted to the new light. The panicked whispers from before continued, but you could now make out what they were saying.

"Did she say 'Zim'?"

"What creature is it?"

"Is it a weapon?"

Your brain finally jumpstarted, and you whipped your head around, eyes darting from one face to another. Several Irkens surrounded you, to where you couldn't see anything but a sea of green. You scooted backwards to create more room between you and the crowd, bumping into something behind you. You jerked yourself around, facing two of the tallest creatures you had ever seen. Instantly you recognized them as Zim's Almighty Tallest. They were much taller in real life than you imagined them to be. Even as an adult female standing at your full height, you knew they would tower over you. Hell, they would overtake Dib by a landslide, who now stood well over six feet. They bent over you to get a better look. After a second of silent observation, the one in purple straightened up and groaned loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Oh god, it's one of those creatures that inhabits Zim's planet!" The purple one resumed wailing madly. The one dressed in red straightened up as well, but said nothing. His red bug eyes rested on you quizzically, intrigued by your mere existence. "You! How did you get here?" The purple one pointed a long and slender finger at you, his face filled with pure terror.

"I went through Zim's portal, it was an accident-" Your voice was panicky. Almost all of the Irkens around you were riddled with anxiety, which you absorbed like a sponge.

"So, Zim sent you!" The purple one just loved to shout, didn't he? You wondered if this was a common trait among Irkens.

"No! It-"

"He sent you for malicious purposes! Like, to, uh...to annoy us into oblivion! Yeah!" So, the purple one was a moron. Good to know. Nevertheless, the crowd of Irkens began mumbling, as if you were trapped in a high energy court room.

"This is all a big misunderstanding, now maybe you could just...drop me off at home, or maybe send me with an escape pod or something-"

"To the dungeons with her!" The purple one screeched, yet again pointing a finger at you. 

"Yes, My Tallest!" Two guards came up to you with taser spears, and you concluded it would be best not to fight. You had been electrocuted with high voltage electricity in Zim's lab once on accident, and it did not feel pleasant. A sigh fell from your lips as each guard took an arm, dragging you to the dungeons of The Massive while cheers rose from the Irken crowd. 

-

"I swear, I will kill Zim when I get my hands on him." You muttered, tossing a coin you had in your pocket against the wall for the four thousandth time. You sat on the floor of your cell, the cold concrete making you shiver. The wall that pressed against your back was the same. There wasn't even a cot in there. Iron bars with buzzing electricity fields between them blocked your exit.

"That's not the first time I've heard that in here." A voice floated toward your ears, however it was muffled by the surrounding concrete.

"Who are you?" You had assumed you were alone in there. After all, how often could you possibly use a dungeon on an armada flagship?

"I'm Deek. I think. Honestly, I've been here so long I can't even remember." The voice, which sounded male, giggled. "Anyway, what are you in here for?"

"Not sure. Trespassing, maybe? The more accurate term would be a kneejerk reaction. What about you?"

"Being annoying. I guess."

"Shit, really? I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's better than being tossed out the airlock." You ceased throwing the coin. Decidedly, Irken society seemed to be hell in space. "In fact, they just threw Jix out last week. Poor gal." Deek's voice held a tinge of sadness. Images flashed through your mind of your body being launched into space. That wasn't how you had envisioned dying. You shuddered. 

The sound of a door opening and steps approaching your cell caused every muscle in your body to tense. You vaguely wondered if it was your turn for death by airlock. You squeezed your eyes shut, curling yourself into a ball with your face between your knees, not wanting to see who had stopped in front of your cell.

"So..." The voice was level and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos of before. Cautiously, you lifted your head, opening your eyes. At your level, you could only see a long crimson skirt. Pushing yourself up to a standing position, you still had to crane your neck to see his face. The red Tallest stood before you, a bored expression plastered on his face. 

"Are you here to kill me?"

"Uh..." He almost seemed surprised that you had asked that. Even still, you wouldn't take any chances. 

"You shouldn't kill me! Just, you know, reverse engineer the phenomena or something and teleport me back! Or even send me in an escape pod! Humans, uhm, we cause massive explosions when killed! Yeah! So you'd destroy yourself in the process." If he had sensed you were lying, he didn't care. However, he did look puzzled by your desperate reaction.

"What? No, I'm not here to kill you." He let out a massive sigh, bending over to look you in the eye. "I'm just bored. There's only so much of Purple's antics I can take at a time." Your shoulders relaxed in immediate relief. 

"Wait, his name is Purple? Let me guess, your name is Red?" That was such a strange notion to you. Every other Irken you had heard of all had such bizarre names, and apparently these two just went by Red and Purple.

"Yeah? So? Also, it's Tallest to you." The threatening tone inserted into his words was half-hearted at best.

"Can't I call you Red? I'm not Irken."

"I don't think so, short-thing."

"Why not? And I'm not short! You're just tall. Plus, my name is Y/n. Not short-thing." You huffed, unconsciously shifting to stand on your toes, increasing your height by maybe an inch at the most. He seemed to appreciate his height being acknowledged, so he relented.

"Fine, do what you want." Red continued to stare at you, almost as if he couldn't quite understand what you were. You didn't blame him, the circumstance had been kind of sudden. Plus, he hadn't heard from Zim in years. Most likely, everyone had assumed him to be dead. 

"You said you were bored? I'll have you know, I can be quite entertaining! So maybe you could, I dunno, get me out of here?" Your lips lifted in a sweet smile, hoping Irkens could be swayed by charm. There was a second of silence as he mulled the idea over. On one hand, it would give him something to do besides eat and blow things up. On the other, if anyone saw, many questions would arise. Despite his concerns, curiosity won out. With his two thin fingers, he tapped a code into a keypad on the wall. There was a dying buzz as the electricity stopped flowing and the iron bars were lifted. There was a part of you that was amazed that he actually let you out. You stepped out, watching his face to make sure he wasn't bluffing about sparing your life. Not a muscle in his body so much as twitched, hell, you weren't even sure if he was breathing. You didn't know how he could with a waist like that. "So, what now?" 

"I thought you said you were the master of fun?"

"I said I was entertaining, not the master of fun. But, I dunno, we could start by getting out of here. Space prison kind of kills the vibe."

"Fine." Red began walking, well, hovering down the hall. He did not look back to see if you were following, and you had to jog to catch up. "Oh, and this isn't space prison, that's Moo-Ping 10. This is more like space holding." 

"There's a difference?"

"Oh yeah." You were sure you were both still in the belly of the ship, considering you never once went up a flight of stairs. However, you had exited the dungeon area, and emerged into a more open room. There were some tables and chairs, and the room was lit by white florescent lights. Everything else within the room was some shade of pink. Occasionally, he would take a quick glance around, as if to make sure no one was watching. Was he supposed to be down here? If he was a supreme leader of society, you weren't sure why it mattered where he was or who he was with.

"What is this place?" You finally asked as he took a seat in a chair, chin resting in his hand. His glances in your direction were fleeting and infrequient, almost as if he were embarrassed to be intrigued by something so short. 

"Not sure. An unused dining hall maybe?" Satisfied with his answer, you took a seat next to him. Taking the opportunity to look him up and down, youwere confused by his anatomy. He was built differently than every Irken you had ever seen. You pointed to his impossibly skinny waist. 

"How?" You opted for that phrasing, as you were unsure if 'is that natural?' would have been rude. 

"Hm? Oh. Corset." His answers to everything were quick and simple. Even still, you couldn't help but stare in wonder. 

"Doesn't it hurt?" You assumed having a corset tightened to such an extreme would be incredibly painful, but he only shrugged without a care.

"You get used to it. It's all part of being Tallest, just as is losing your thumbs." A smirk etched its way onto his face at your horrfied expression as his wiggled his two fingers through the gauntlet on his arm. Subconsciously you rubbed your thumbs, lips pursed in a tight line. "You're a curious little thing."

"You act like I'm a child! I'm a grown woman, thank you very much." You may still have been young by human standards, but you had still made it over the age of 18, so technically, you were an adult. Red chuckled at your pouting, as you had just proven his point unintentionally. A ghost of a smile was present on his face. Was he actually enjoying himself? You decided to switch gears. "The whole dynamic of Irk is strange."

"Oh yeah? How so?" 

"It's like one big military." Red snickered, unable to stop the chuckle that rose from his chest.

"Of course it is. That's kind of our whole thing." He lifted a hand, trying to gesture to the armada as a whole. 

"Oh, yeah. Right." Another silence fell between you two. It was rather difficult for you as a human to comprehend Irken society. It all just seemed so...foreign. So static and stiff. 

Red was the first to speak again. "Tell me then. What's Earth like?" Excitedly, you sat up in your chair, eyes shining. 

"Well, people still respect each other, sometimes anyway, but everyone is less stiff with each other. There's more kindness. Now, don't get me wrong, there are many who are full of hate and lots of people fight all the time, but it's still less so than Irk. Plus, height isn't such a huge deal. And there's relationships." Your words came out quickly, hands moving to accentuate your thoughts.

"Relationships?" If Red had eyebrows, they would be raised in questioning. His voice was laced with suspicion, as if he didn't trust the concept.

"Yeah! All different kinds. Familial, platonic, romantic, etc. You know, parents, siblings, friends, that kind of thing...usually, they're all based on love. And, no offense, but there seems to be an absence of that here." You had heard it from Zim many times before. Irkens can't feel love, they trust no one and all that. On some level, you doubted that to be true, rather it was more of a choice, that maybe they were told that love is a sign of weakness so they chose not to feel anything at all.

"Love...?" Red spit out the word as if it burned his tongue. Clearly, love was not a well thought of concept in Irken culture. After a moment, he appeared to recall something. "I think I remember something that happened years ago...Zim called about some romantic experiment he was running on some girl. Said it was very pain-based. This is something humans find...pleasant?" Waving your hands you shook your head in a clear 'no'. No wonder Red was concerned by the idea of love.

"No! Not unless you're a masochist anyway. I don't know what the hell he was doing, but that's not what love is."

His tone showed that he was still mildly disgusted with the topic, but nevertheless, he proceeded to ask for further clarification. "Then what is it?" Red was never very interested when Zim had been reporting ten-ish years ago, but now that he had a subject sitting right in front of him, the idea became somewhat exciting.

"Like, romantic love?" You asked, a small part of you hoping he was asking about platonic love instead. You weren't entirely sure how to explain romance to a species who understood nothing but pain and hierarchy. Red nodded, asking you to go on. You breathed out a relenting sigh, struggling for the right words to explain it. "Romance is...uhm…it's when..." Red peered at you expectantly, crimson eyes wide and inquisitive. Finally, you came up with something. "It's when you like someone very much, and you would do almost anything for them." He nodded slowly, looking as if he was beginning to grasp it.

"Like pledging your loyalty?" Loyalty was a thing Irkens could understand thoroughly.

"Yeah, like that! And you want to do lots of stuff together! Spend time together and all that. There's also physical affection." His head cocked to the side, similar to a puppy. 

"Physical affection?"

"Ye...Yeah...!" Your feet shifted on the floor as you clutched the hem of your shirt between your fingers. You couldn't help but feel nervous under his gaze. Your face flushed as he stared out at you through half-lidded eyes, overly fixated on the topic of physical affection. 

"What's that?" Once again, his voice was as even as could be. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a grin, enjoying the way you were acting. It was quite amusing to him. You suddenly regretted bringing up the subject of romance.

"Like, examples?" Swallowing hard, your fingers began to drum on the table. How were you possibly supposed to describe it to him? He certainly wouldn't know what a hug or a kiss was. "I don't think I can exactly describe it to you..." You hoped he would leave it at that and move on.

Of course that wasn't the case. That was the problem with Irkens. Once they found a way to make you squirm, they would push until it was no longer fun. "Then show it to me." His response was quick, zero hesitation. He looked completely satisfied, for once not feeling that familiar dull, almost constant ache of boredom. You weren't sure about it at first, but the longer he looked at you with that smug expression, the more determined you became to wipe that smirk off his face. 

"Fine." Irkens are touch-starved creatures. It wouldn't take anything too extreme to accomplish what you wanted. You stood up, moving over to plant yourself right in his lap. Taking his hand, you intertwined your fingers with his two, pressing your face into his chest. "Humans do things like cuddle and hold hands." His heartbeat was similar to a human's, the rhythym just slightly different. This close, you could hear the soft hum of his PAK. With your free hand, you traced indescribable shapes into his chest. If you were to look up, you would have seen his antennae twitching. Already, you had accomplished what you had set out to. He was no longer teasing or overconfident. Although he would never admit it, he was content with the attention. As you continued to draw random nothingness, Red let out what sounded like a low purr, the sound sending a pleasant rumble through his chest and against your skin. A series of quiet chirps followed, and you had to assume he was satisfied. You couldn't help but giggle, and at the time, the uncertainty of how you would get home was the furthest thing from your mind.

"Do humans do anything else?" Red attempted to suppress the spark in his voice, but was wildly unsuccessful. His tone was the farthest thing from passive. You let go of his hand, sitting up to face him. 

"Of course we do." You experimentally raised a hand to his face, seeing if he would shy away. That was not the case, rather the opposite. He seemed to almost lean into your touch. You weren't sure why he was so okay with this; you supposed that each Irken had different policies and tolerances when it came to physical contact. Red seemed to be anxiously awaiting whatever was coming next, his expression eager. "Sometimes we give each other kisses." You didn't bother fighting the smile that played at your lips as you peppered several kisses all over his face. There was barely an inch of his cheeks and forehead that went untouched. Red's face felt hot beneath your lips, and if Irkens could blush, you were sure he would be completely flushed. His fingers had drifted to your sides, lightly resting there. 

Hmm...Irkens are quite interesting... You thought as you held eye contact with Red. He was clearly embarrassed to be engaging in this, but more so at the fact that he was enjoying it. And yet, he held your gaze, unwilling to back down. You wondered what would happen if someone found him like this. What would even happen?

"The rest of human physical affection is rather intimate, so the lesson will have to end here." Before he could protest, you leaned in one last time, pressing your lips to where his should be. His fingers dug into your sides, antennae shooting straight up in the air. You had never dreamed that you would be kissing an alien leader on a warship in space, but you wouldn't say you were disappointed. Pulling away, Red's grip on you loosened, and something bright caught your eye. Small sparks were being thrown from his PAK, which concerned you slightly. "Uh, Red...?" Pointing a finger to his PAK, he shook his head wildly, and after a moment, everything seemed to be alright again.

"It's fine!" He spoke abruptly, voice loud and awkward. His voice drew in some company, as Purple stuck his head in the room.

"There you are! Zim keeps sending transmissions through and he's going crazy-" Red yelped, practically throwing you off of him and into the nearest chair he could find.

"So, do I go home now?" You asked, and for the first time, Purple seemed to notice you.

"Ack! How did you get out of the dungeons?!" Purple jumped back, despite already being across the room from you.

"I have super powers." You snickered at his frightened appearance. Red rolled his eyes, waving his counterpart off.

"Just go, I'll deal with Zim." Purple nodded, zipping out of the room. You weren't sure if your senses were playing tricks on you, or if Red really was disappointed to see you leave. "C'mon, Y/n. Let's go figure out how to reverse engineer a transport portal."

[un-romancible-npc]

Chance

Chapter One: Dancing in Silence

3631 words

Original Idea:

::You are here::Part 2::Ao3::

The cacophony of night that most coastal cities had was entirely lost on the quiet, lonely streets of Gotham. It wasn't a silent city by any means, but its citizens had learned a long time ago that nighttime was not their domain, and as fantastic as some of those night-liers were, Gotham knew it was best to leave the night to its own, and let the bats do their hunting.

Most of Gotham knew that, anyway.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, President of the class in the French foreign exchange program, fashion genius, and proud owner of at least 3 brain cells, was lying wide awake at 2:30am in a bed in a luxury hotel room at the heart of Gotham City, desperately trying to figure out if cereal was a soup and feeling remarkably as though she had been lied to her whole life.

The hotel room, which she was finding she disliked more and more the longer her brain went without sleep, was a mess of creams and browns and golds when the lights were on, but in the dark, with only the faint street light filtering through the balcony doors' curtains, everything was the same vague gradient of grey to black. She much preferred it like that.

Marinette lay on her back, sheets tangled at the corners of her bed after hours of tossing and turning, her arms and legs splayed out in a manner not unlike a starfish that had been asked for a high-five, and her black hair flopped out of the two now virtually-useless buns perched atop her head, loose strands sticking uncomfortably to her wide-eyed face.

She had half a mind to wake up her roommate, Chloe Bourgeois, who had been asleep for the last hour and a half, and ask her opinion on the matter. Even considering what 'the wasp', as Alya had taken to calling her, was going through physically at the moment, and that she'd put Sabrina in a choke-hold for almost a full minute last time she was disturbed--with precise details of how she would personally destroy anyone who dared bother her nap again--and only let go after she'd given Sabrina and everyone who saw the incident one (1) more chance to live.

It probably wasn't worth it.

Unfortunately, Marinette was about to die from over-internalization, and she was genuinely considering putting her life on the line for answers.

Mari shifted to her side and stared at the gap in the curtains, one of the narrow slices of light that leaked through them leaving a stripe of color down her face and abdomen, illuminating her plain black sports-bra and green basketball shorts she'd stolen from Adrien after accidentally ruining her own fuzzy Pj bottoms mere hours before. If anyone else had been awake, they would have also seen the light glinting off the peculiar, vein-like markings that spiraled around her torso, their lines intertwining with themselves and leading up to two small marks just above her shoulder blades.

Marinette openly scowled at the double doors to the hotel balcony.

'I'm going to go insane.'

With a sigh as quiet as she could manage, Mari sat up, climbed to the foot of her bed, rifled under her dresser for her suitcase, and fished out her specially altered red-and-black hoodie, the matching pair of black leggings with red spots, and a pair of sneakers. Sliding into them in almost total silence--she doesn't count the muttered French that may or may not have been cursing when she stubbed her pinkie toe on the end table--she opened the glass doors at the end of the room and slid outside for some fresh air.

Stepping out onto the small balcony, Mari inhaled deeply and stared at the city. The lights were loud, even though the noises weren't, but the colors outside felt better, and she found she could think more clearly without the suffocating blackness of the room surrounding her, glaring at her with thinly veiled chartreuse and belly-hair-brown.

Mari looked up, the waning crescent moon sending a crooked smile her way as she did so, and she smiled right back.

The sky looked different in America.

She turned, mouth twisting into a knot, and stared at the 'french' doors that led back to her room, having half a mind to just go back inside… but her designer's heart craved a better view, and the stifling heat of her bed was exactly the kind of thing that would keep her awake longer.

Nodding resolutely, Marinette marched toward the doors, and leapt up precisely as high as she needed, fingers gripping the ledge above it with a strength that belied her small stature. Hooking her foot over the top of the door frame, she hauled herself up and began scaling the building, using every ledge and window she could. Her seemingly delicate hands were covered in calluses after years of sewing accidents and other... extracurricular activities, so the rough concrete and brick was nothing she hadn't dealt with before.

Chloe liked to 'joke' that she probably didn't have fingerprints anymore, and could definitely get away with murder. Marinette snorted, smiling to herself as she pulled herself over another window ledge, her brain temporarily distracted from cereal soup by that particular conversation that had kept the three of them awake far past curfew.

Chloe scoffed from her perch on the largest bed, tossing her head to flip her white-blonde braid over her shoulder as she dipped the little brush back into the fingernail polish container.

"Oh course I'm not talking about actually murdering anyone, Bumble-Bug." She said, delicately coating her pinky fingernail in pearlescent midnight-blue polish. "All I'm saying is that if, hypothetically of course, somebody, nobody in particular, at say… the school, happened to end up dead in a ditch somewhere," she dipped the brush again. "And there happened to not be any fingerprints, the police couldn't pin a thing on you. Ask Sabrina, she's doing an internship at her Daddy's place."

Shaking her head, and biting her lip to keep herself from laughing, Mari turned her attention back to applying her own rose-gold polish.

A few specks of Gotham's finest hotel were unintentionally scraped off the border of a window and tumbled to the pavement below. Mari grunted, adjusting her grip on a gargoyle-like figure near the edge of the roof to better secure herself so she could find another foothold, unintentionally scraping her palms in the process. She grinned.

"Y'know Ladynette," said Adrien, his mop of sunshine-blond hair coming into view as he sat up from where he had been lounging on the floor, still waving his hands in an attempt to dry the sloppy black and green nail polish he had insisted he do himself. 'We just have to take it off before I go home! Father won't know if we don’t tell him!' "Bee's got a point. I'm not saying I would appear as Chat to give you the best alibi in history, but I'm also not saying I wouldn't." He tapped the side of his nose, effectively smearing the nail polish on his index finger all over the inside of his eyelid. "You're the star student, after all."

Marinette couldn't take anymore, and collapsing into a giggle-fit, accidentally spilling the rose-gold nail polish all over her fuzzy pajama pants in the process. It took far too long to calm down, but when she did, Chloe and Adrien had already found replacement pants for her.

Mari returned to the present as she, with a final shove, found herself on the roof of the very prestigious hotel her class was staying at during their 3 month exchange program. Her entire class.

'No one in particular my foot.'

Mari stood near the opposite edge of the roof from where she'd climbed up, letting the cool, damp midnight breeze play with her hair, as she breathed a deep sigh.

Cereal was soup.

…

Kwamiis, she'd been hanging out with Adrien too much.

Her thoughts stilled for a moment, though her mind continued at breakneck speed as memories of her loved ones filled her up to bursting. She closed her eyes and let the images chase themselves in circles for a little, drinking in the feeling of the night and the faint smell of coastal rain that sank into her bones.

Gotham was officially her second favorite city.

The mood was briefly soured as her brain, still dutifully chugging along as the speed of light now that she had nothing else to think about, began turning to darker subjects. Mari sighed, her whole body sagged in exhaustion and her fingers twisting around the ponytail that was wrapped around her wrist as said darker thoughts began playing on repeat in her head, the face of at least two thirds of her misery laughing at her misery, though she wasn't on the roof to laugh at her.

‘Lila.’

Marinette's fiddling with the ponytail ceased as she began bouncing her leg, her hands moving up to readjust her buns in a vague hope of making them slightly less disastrous.

‘Oh boy, Lila…’

Liar and life-ruiner extraordinaire.

The reason her only friends were suddenly transferred to new classes even though she herself had tried a dozen times over to do just the same.

Mari sighed, tugging at a nasty tangle the ponytail-holder had somehow created with her bun.

At least she still had Alix and Kim. As much as she loved Chloe and Adrien, Adrien couldn’t do anything to rock the boat without his father forcing him to quit public school, and since Chloe’s father had finally been replaced as Mayor, she didn’t have nearly as much power as she used to. Besides, the class was against her to begin with, and it had only gotten worse as Lila began to spin her web.

Alix and Kim on the other hand, while they couldn't convince many people of Lila's schemes, they could punch people in the face. Mari actually cried when they told her they both got suspended for a week after doing just that the day they found out Lila was nothing but a liar, (Alix did the punching and Kim cheered her on) and while she insisted they never do that again, she brought them 'thank you' goodies every day for six months after that.

Her thoughts cheered up significantly after a few forceful topic-changes and as they continued to wander, a tune bumbled its way to the surface and, having nothing better to do at the moment, she began humming it. What the song itself was called she didn't remember, maybe it never existed to begin with, but the melody was quiet enough to be soothing, and it was calming, if a little haunting.

A few measures into her strange melody, Mari found herself half dancing-half fidgeting to the beat of her imaginary song, incomprehensible words playing through her mind as the night dragged on and Gotham continued on in semi-silence.

Mari was midway through one of the ballet moves Chloe had dragged her to classes to learn, when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Mari cut her movement off mid-flow and stood stock still.

Someone was on the roof with her.

Years of constantly living life on the edge of both a mental breakdown and a life-or-death battle was the only thing keeping her from blindly round-house-kicking whoever it was in the face and running off into the night. Fight and flight instincts could fudge a delicate situation, and whoever was up here could simply be getting some air, like her.

Maybe she should have let her instincts run the show.

She barely had time to register she was still humming--being forced to communicate in the most dire of circumstances had made the moments where she couldn’t shut herself up more often than she’d care to admit--when an arm that felt as though it was made of steel and iron was pinning her left arm to her back as a knee, which she assumed belonged to the owner of the steel and iron arm, slammed into the middle of her back and began forcing her to the ground.

In the split second before her face made contact with the gravel on the rooftop, Mari had one single thought racing through her head.

She knew this hold.

She’d done it a thousand times in the back alleys of Paris on odd nights.

This was the hold that would break your arm if you struggled.

The hold designed to keep the victim still and in pain.

The hold to intimidate and contain.

The hold made for criminals.

Hah.

No.

Faster than even she expected, Mari twisted her body completely around and successfully out of his hold, eyes narrowed in determination.

C R A C K

‘Well.’ Mari rolled away from her attacker, clutching her broken arm to her chest. ‘That’s going to be hard to explain to Mlle. Bustier in the morning.’ Mari recovered quickly--She'd felt more pain than a broken arm and won a fight before: and a non-functioning arm wasn't going to stop her now.--and regained her footing just in time to see a young man, probably about her age, in a truly shocking outfit with the most bizarre color coordination she had ever seen-- Okay not the most bizarre. She'd fought Akuma after all, and some of those deserved to be taken down on their fashion sense alone--pull out a katana from seemingly nowhere.

‘Wait…’ She thought as she dodged the katana swipe and dropped to the ground in attempt to swipe his feet out from underneath him. ‘Him and his traffic-light costume look familia--’

“Robin!”

Marinette froze as none other than Batman--The Actual Honest To Goodness Batman--swung onto the roof just behind her attacker.

Mari would’ve fangirled if she wasn’t so high on caution juice.

“Father,” apparently-Robin said, not breaking eye-contact with her, the blade of his katana less than an inch from her throat now that she wasn’t fighting back.

‘Wait… wait, isn’t that called adrenaline?’

“Robin, why were you attacking a civilian.”

‘Oh glory Batman is speaking to Robin, he’s speaking with Robin and they’re talking right in front of me--’ Mari blinked. ‘Civilian?’

“Tch,” Robin’s lip curled slightly, though otherwise he didn’t move. ‘Oh. Right. I’m not wearing my mask. “Father this isn’t another civilian.”

‘I mean he’s right, but I’m right here--’

“She’s clearly a villain.”

‘Okay WHAT?!’

“And what makes you say that?” Mari’s mouth moved in her own defense before she’d formed a proper argument.

‘FrICK.’

Silence.

Silence punctuated by Batman’s stare.

Which of them he was looking at was a mystery, but he punctuated the lack of noise nevertheless.

‘I’m sorry Batman: One of us is going to die tonight and it’s probably going to be me if your son doesn’t say something soon.’

“Tch.” Robin’s head rolled slightly to the side; an exaggerated eye-roll if she’d ever seen one. “You’re up here, alone, ballet dancing, and humming a stupid creepy tune.” Mari blinked at him incredulously. “It’s highly unusual in Gotham for anyone to preform their own... musical theater routine, at 4 in the morning mind you, unless they’re extremely unbalanced and have a bomb planted sixty feet below the mayor’s office.” 

“You…” She took a deep breath in, moving her broken arm as carefully--and casually--as she could. “You tried to knock me unconscious, fight me, and potentially take me to a police station for questioning... because I was awake at 4am.” Well, if Batman’s stare wasn’t burning holes into Robin’s head before, it sure was now. Robin, to his credit, relaxed his defensive stance slightly, even as a scowl darker than any she’d expect on his face dragged whatever hope she had of reasoning down with his mood.

“Robin?”

Batman had said 9 words since his first appearance, and somehow Mari knew he was on her side.

She and her motor-mouth could learn from him.

Robin snorted softly and stuck his nose in the air, though any fool could see it was over a sense of wounded pride rather than genuine haughtiness. Or, anyone who’d been friends with Chloe for more than a week, anyway. He finally relaxed his fighting stance, however, and stood with his back ram-rod straight and his arms crossed over his chest.

“It isn’t my fault she was being stupid.”

“And it isn’t my fault you couldn’t just use basic human communication to inquire as to my true intentions.” Being starstruck is overrated.

“If you were really a villain you’d take advantage of that.” He snapped, glaring at her.

“If I were really a villain,” Mari retorted with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be stupid enough to dance out in the open in celebration of my latest unfinished scheme.” Mari crossed her arms. ‘Owowowowow no that’s bad don’t move broken arm that hurts--’ “Especially not when it’s nighttime and the Batman Squad are out and about. Besides, you can be physically prepared for an attack while still brokering a deal. It’s how being a superhero is supposed to work, isn’t it? Get the villain talking so you can assess the situation and the threat without potentially risking any civilians in the way?” ‘I just back-talked Robin. And by extension, Batman.’

Mari could feel her blush burning her skin to ash.

‘Batman please take your son and leave so I can die in peace I’m--’

“You’re very correct, Miss.”

‘S a y  f r e a k i n g  w h a t n o w.’

Mari whipped around, her loose hair smacking her in the eyes as she did so, to see The Actual Freaking Nightwing standing on one of the rooftop gargoyles and grinning at her. 

Her heart had stopped functioning a long time ago, and it appeared her lungs were now bent on doing the same.

“Being a superhero is about more than just punching crime in the face. Though I gotta admit that’s the fun part.”

“Until crime punches ya’ back,” the ghost of Marinette’s soul replied through her somehow still-living body. “Then you just have a black eye, injustice, and a whole lotta paperwork.” Nightwing burst out laughing, and slid off his gargoyle to walk over and give her a clap on the back.

“It’s official,” he said, his grin wide and friendly. “You’re my second-favorite civilian.” Mari’s soul transcended to the next dimension. “What’s your name, kid?”

“I-I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, monsieur.” ‘I’m Freaking Nightwing’s Second Favorite Civilian. How in the ever-loving hECC, did I end up here? How has my life come to this? Is this where I die?’

“A pleasure to meet you Marinette,” Nightwing said with yet another grin, as he stuck out his hand to shake. “I’m sure you already know who we are, but based off your French accent you probably aren’t from ‘round here: I’m Nightwing.” He gestured to Batman’s looming figure. “The silent Night is Batman, and--”

“I suppose Traffic-Light boy is Robin, then?”

‘MOUTH WHAT THE HECK YOU CAN’T OPERATE WITHOUT EXPLICIT PERMISSION FROM THE BRAIN WHAT ARE YOU DOING GOING ROGUE LIKE THAT YOU’RE OFFICIALLY ON PROBATION--’

“No-- wait I'm sorry I didn’t mean it like that I swear--”

It was too late.

Robin had frozen in place, his face a mixture of shock and an emotion she couldn’t place.

Nightwing was doubled over with laughter.

Batman’s face seemed to always be an emotionless, impenetrable mask in the short time she’d known him, but Mari could’ve sworn she saw the faintest of smiles. It was gone in a moment, but it was there.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had made Batman, actual honest to goodness Batman, smile.

Well, if she wasn’t dead before, she was now.

“We’re sorry for the trouble Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said Batman when it seemed like Nightwing wasn’t going to recover anytime soon. “I hope Robin didn’t hurt you too badly.” Marinette welcomed the distraction, though she was still redder than her hoodie. She waved her non-broken arm dismissively.

“He didn’t, Monsieur Batman. Je--err, I, am perfectly fine. I’m sorry to have disturbed your patrol.” Batman gave her the tiniest of nods. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I'll get back to my room. It’s very late after all.”

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“You too, mon--err, Sir.” Marinette started walking toward the side of the building to climb back down, when a door in the center of the roof caught her attention.

Oh.

She paused halfway to the entrance, gnawing at her lip.

Mari turned around sharply.

“Robin?” The three caped crusaders paused. The boy in question gave her a sidelong glance, shooting her a quizzical look that may or may not have been laced with faint distaste. Not that she blamed him. “I’m sorry for any trouble I may have caused.”

He stared at her for a moment, his face expressionless for a moment.

“I’m sorry too. I hope I didn’t hurt your arm too badly.” he nodded to her curtly. “Have a good night, miss.”

And then they were gone.

A wave of exhaustion hit her like a truck, and she had the sudden realization she was supposed to be asleep at 4:30 in the morning.

She turned and opened the rooftop door, thanking anything and everything that the door was unlocked, and closed it softly behind her, leaning heavily against it and biting back her groan of pain.

Hiding a broken arm was painful.

Mari stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, absorbing everything that had happened.

Her face split into a joyous beam.

Adrien and Chloe were going to go berserk tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS:

Nightwing: “Hey, B-man. Bat-guy. Bro-man. Bat-dad. Can we please keep her? Please?”

Batman: “Not that it’s up to me, but we can’t. At the very least not unless she can fight.”

Robin: “Father, she broke her arm getting out of my hold and didn’t bat an eye at it.”

Nightwing: “The bean did what now.”

(also have a sketch i did. i’m sorry it’s not great but i just... i lov her okay?)

::You are here::Part 2::Ao3::

[skywillsometimeswrite]

Why?

So I got really inspired by @target-block ‘s Evil!Impulse and Evil!Stress AU and so I decided let’s throw a hastily written fic at them

(I have barely watched Impulse, and I haven’t seen much of Stress, so literally it’s all spitballing but they’re evil so its fiiiiine)

Read it on AO3

“Why, Impulse? Why are you doing this?”

Impulse glanced over his shoulder at his old friends, Bdubs physically holding Tango back. If Bdubs even loosened his grip Tango would most definitely charge right at Impulse. He wonders if his old friend would hit him. He was never the particularly violent type, so maybe he would try and talk him out of the high that he was currently riding from his carnage spree. Would he hug him and try and use some heartfelt words to sway him back over to being his old self? The thought amused Impulse, making his smile grow to show his teeth off.

He laughed, loud and hearty, just like he used to at Zedaph’s more ridiculous ideas, or when Bdubs would get himself blown up. He caught a glimpse of Tango’s confused expression shifting into one of betrayal before he looked out on the damage that he had caused.

He breathed in the tell tale smell of wither roses, relishing in his handiwork as ghasts, blazes, and even a few withers flew around the shopping district. The roses had a distinct smell, one that mingled quite well with smoke, nether wart, and spider eyes as he had learned when concocting this most magnificent scheme with his two partners in crime. That beautiful symphony of smells now hung over the shopping district, the once green grass Scar placed now brown and dead or black with the wither effect seeping into its roots. Impulse thought it was quite the improvement. The place had gotten to be a bit too colorful for his liking.

“Why?” He echoes back to Tango, spinning on his heel. He held a wither rose in his calloused hand that had become immune to the wither effect the plant held. His fingertips were stained black and faded as they went down. He had lost full feeling in them ages ago, but that never hindered him. If anything, it helped since he didn’t have to worry as much about his own weapons and traps hurting him when he set them up. Not to mention facing down wither skeletons in the nether had become nothing but a simple chore. “You want to know why?”

“Yes! Why would you betray us like this? What have we ever done to you?” Bdubs’ voice grated against Impulse’s ear drums and he couldn’t help how he nearly crushed the precious flower in his fist.

Impulse walked towards his previous coworkers, circling them on top of Scar’s magnificent  Scara Junior. Impulse picked the black petals off of the rose, letting them flutter down onto the organic material of the stem, and lazily watched as they formed a circle of decay around his enemies. Ordinarily, just the petals wouldn’t do much, but the stem soaked up all of the withering effect that it could. It quickly spread to the point underneath Tango and Bdubs, and despite how the two tried, they were never particularly strong: in will or in body. Their coughs and groans as their beings filled with unwavering pain was music to Impulse’s ears, even more so as he felt the familiar feeling creep up his own legs and reinvigorate him. 

“What have you ever done to me?” Impulse’s voice raised, incredulous, before it fell again, black particles falling from his mouth as the withering effect spread within his body. “Are you serious? The better question is what haven’t you done to me?

All you guys have ever done is use me. I finish one job, and you guys want something bigger. And every time I’m lucky if I get even a little bit of gratitude. I help you with your games, I help you with your projects, I help you with your farms, I give you resources, I design new machines and what do I get in return? A ‘thanks’ and a guarantee that you’ll come back to me when you need something else.”

He kneeled in front of the two hermits, both of them holding their chests as the incredible, beautifully hideous wither spread through them, slowly draining away their life. That was probably one of Impulse’s favorite parts of using the petals over full flowers: it was a lot slower of a death.

He gently put one of his wither tainted fingers underneath Tango’s chin, lifting his head up so he could look into his pain filled red eyes. “Even you, Tango. The only reason I’m here is because you needed someone to do your work for you. I’m surprised you didn’t see this coming.”

Tango opened his mouth, a strangled sound escaping in what almost sounded like a word before it devolved into horrendous coughs that brought a smile to Impulse’s face. He dropped the other’s head, standing proudly over the men.

This was by far the best payment he could have asked for.

-----

“Stress, I don’t understand, why are you doing all this?”

Iskall was precariously balancing on the Logz blimp, his arms out as he tried to steady himself. This sight caused Stress to giggle, and Iskall’s disturbed expression at the almost normal sound was clear on his face. She knew, if it had been anyone else standing in front of him, he wouldn’t have hesitated to charge forward and impale them. But this was Stress in front of him, his best friend. He adored her, and she knew that very well. So of course she was going to use that to her advantage.

“You’re a smart guy, Iskall, I’m sure you can figure it out.” She said, catching how his eyes drifted out over the shopping district and to the roof of the Colored Complete shop. Now that she didn’t appreciate. She wasn’t harmless, perhaps she had to remind him of this.

She twirled a lingering potion in her hand, spinning it on her fingertip before gingerly tossing it at Iskall’s feet. It shattered, the sickly green liquid exploding all over the wood. The fumes quickly wafted up, causing Iskall to cover his mouth, but it was all too late. The poison spread through his body, making his vision sway and his stomach retch, Stress knew. She had tested it enough times to know the exact effects on a person, and she didn’t need a watch to know exactly when it would end.

“You should keep your eyes on me if you know what’s good for you, luv. I’m not some cute dainty flower, you know -- well, I am adorable, but that's not the point, now is it?”

Iskall was definitely one of the tougher hermits, she had to give him that. Most anyone else would be rendered incapacitated from her enhanced poison potions, but he managed to glare at her between wet coughs. He took a few steps towards her, out of the fading cloud of poisonous fumes, and took a deep breath of air. Not that it would help him much, considering the amount of smoke that lingered around them.

“Seriously, Stress, what is all this about? We’re friends aren’t we? What’s gotten into you?”

She rolled her eyes, groaning at such a typical Iskall response. Really, he couldn’t be more predictable could he? She pulled out a splash potion, watching the ink black liquid swirl around inside the fragile glass.

“You really think I’m so simple, do ya?” She took a step forward, watching Iskall take a step backwards from the corner of her eye. “Sure, we were friends, Iskall. But that got old real quick, it did. Y’see I got real tired of being this little do gooder that could do no wrong. The one everyone underestimated. I wanted to prove to all of you how easily you were to fool. How easily I could fool you.”

She grinned at Iskall’s wide eye and shaking legs as she took another step forward. “You’re all really stupid, you know that? None of you even thought to suspect us! And we weren’t barely subtle at all. Luckily for us, you lot were so happy to cling on to the idea of poor Falsie being behind all of our messes that you didn’t look any farther into it!”

She sighed, squishing her cheek with the palm of her hand as she thought about it. “I do feel a lil’ bad, you know. About Falsie. I honestly didn’t think you’d straight up ban her. Must’ve been pretty scary for her.”

“We thought-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you lot thought. That sweet ol’ Impy and I wouldn’t hurt a fly, right?” She tossed the potion at him, knowing that he was enshrouded in darkness. Even his mechanical eye couldn’t see past a blindness potion that she had made. She walked towards him, sliding her hand up his arm and getting right up close to him. She wished she could frame his look of terror when she whispered:

 “Do you still think that?”

-----

“Grian, mate, really you gotta explain this to me. All of this. I-I don’t get why you’re doing all this.”

Ariana rolled her eyes at Mumbo. “How many times do I have to tell all of you? I’m not Grian, I’m Ariana Griande. I swear, you all are terrible with names.” She tutted.

“Yeah, right, whatever your name is, you need to stop this. Please. Or- Or at least tell me why you’re doing this. We can figure this out, I’m sure.”

Araina’s heels clicked on the noteblocks she stood on, walking over them as she examined Mumbo carefully. She hummed every note that played with every footstep she took. Sure, maybe Etho’s work was more refined and practiced, but Ariana was known for her voice not her instrumental talent. And of course for her explosive and fiery personality. Why else would Stress and Impulse recruit her?

“I think the better question is why wouldn’t I be doing this?” She asked Mumbo as she hopped off the noteblocks and onto the white concrete that made up the roof of Colored Complete. It was more grey now from all the smoke, but she thought that it looked far prettier that way. Fire always gave things that extra spice they needed.

“What?”

“Oh, come on Mumbo. Are you telling me you’ve never wanted to create a little chaos before?”

He spluttered, looking at her as if she was crazy before gesturing to the currently crisping shopping district. “This- this isn’t just ‘a little chaos!’ Grian, if you think this is all some harmless prank you gotta snap out of it, man. This is way, way, way worse than anything else you’ve ever done.”

“Ariana.” She corrected him again before walking to stand next to him and survey her fine handiwork. She had to compliment Impulse, the nether mods definitely helped a lot with the fire bit. And the ghasts certainly helped in the blowy-uppy part. Of course, most of the larger destruction was her own direct doing and she was quite proud of it all, even if it had made her skirt flutter up a little bit. She could sacrifice a little modesty for the sake of her art.

“And Mumbo, my dear Mumbo, I don’t think this is some harmless prank or whatever. No, I think,” she threw her arm over his shoulder, the heels making the reach less awkward. She still had to pull the man down to her height, though. “I think this is art. Beautiful art.”

She let him go, happily skipping back over to her noteblocks and sitting down on one, crossing her legs as she smiled out over the marvelously demolished shopping district. Her smile grew as a blaze lit a lone piece of TNT, the explosion adding to the brilliant cacophony of sounds that were already in the air. The crackling of fire, the screeches of ghasts, the breathy roars of withers, and of course her favorite sound: the panicked screaming of the hermits as they scrambled to salvage as much as they could.

Really, did she even need to explain why she did all of this? Why they did all of this? It seemed pretty obvious to her.

“You see, Mumbo, it’s all about making a statement.”

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 1.6.2 “How Jean Can Become Champ”

I’m sorry if some of this is muddled, I wrote some of this post to avoid doomscrolling yesterday (not that it worked). It’s also long.

First of all I gotta say, I do love how Hugo manages to get everything to slot into place, when he doesn’t use his handwavy magic. The chapter opens with Madeleine settling some “pressing business of the mayorality” just in case he decides to go and collect Cosette from Montfermeil himself. Obviously this doesn’t happen, but the fact that he’s arranged stuff in advance means he’s able to go to Arras etc and mayoral matters are settled even when he’s revealed his true identity.

Hugo calls Javert “this savage in the service of civilization, this odd mixture of Roman, Spartan, monk, and corporal.” I’ve always assumed the term “savage” was another reference to his Romani ancestry, as well as his origins within a jail. The rest of the references have to do with different types or levels of self-discipline and sense of duty. Essentially, this phrase is saying that Javert carries his sense of duty with him everywhere and rarely strays from it. I’ve nicked this straight from the wikipedia page on Roman pietas, but I feel like it fits so well: “A Roman with the virtue of pietas did not leave his religious duties at the door of the temple, but carried them with him everywhere, following the will of the gods in his business transactions and everyday life.”

"His whole being expressed abasement and steadfastness, an indescribably courageous dejection.” Weirdly I love this description. Javert hates being wrong, but to admit it is to  act justly and according to duty, so he does it. Which is just so interesting because he could easily not even bother to tell Valjean about any of this, and just go on with his life as normal, and Valjean would be none the wiser. But that’s not how Javert functions. The difference between himself and other cops is that his sense of duty and justice extends to himself, which he says much more directly later on in the chapter. I just like that this description includes both his steadfastness to duty and his humiliation and self-frustration at being wrong and admitting it. “Courageous dejection” is such an interesting phrase, but it makes sense. It takes courage to admit you’re wrong, and even more when it’s something as egregious as informing on a superior.

Javert interrupts Valjean here, which I can’t decide what to think about. Part of me assumes that he interrupts Valjean because Valjean hasn’t even started to speak, so it’s still sort of....socially allowed for Javert to tack another bit of explanation onto what he just finished saying. Part of me wonders if Javert feels okay about interrupting Valjean either because he assumes he’s going to be dismissed anyway, and so this small rudeness of interrupting a superior doesn’t really matter, or because despite his sense of duty, he still feels quite a bit of aversion towards Valjean (which Hugo tells us a paragraph prior) and so is less bothered by interrupting him due to his dislike. Either way, it’s interesting that Javert is so keen on duty and correct conduct and yet he interrupts Valjean here.

“...you were severe to me the other day, unjustly. Be justly so today.” Wow okay so. Javert directly disobeyed and contested authority, argued with Madeleine and attempted to undermine his command to let Fantine go. Madeleine reacted accordingly, sending Javert away. And yet Javert feels that this treatment was unjust. I think the reason he sees it as unjust is because he sees himself as defending the honor of a mayor or authority figure (as well as a well-to-do citizen, Bamatabois) against a lowly prostitute. Despite the fact that Valjean specifically defended Fantine and offered her help, he’s still going to see his defense of authority and justice as being in the right over Valjean’s empathy towards her. (Sidenote: I love that he says “the other day” even though Fantine’s arrest was almost two months ago.)

Again, we get another concrete passage of time. It’s been six weeks since Fantine’s arrest. She’s still in hospital. Hugo isn’t huge on indicating exact passages of time. Lots of “eh, about three weeks later” or “maybe four months ago” in this book. Also the absolute mess of the Thenardier boys’ timeline. Anyway, these continuous references to how much time has passed is important. Hugo wants us to know how long Fantine was a sex worker for, and now how long she’s been languishing in bed, still sick.

Javert lists off things that he recognized in Valjean. All of these make sense to me except “information you obtained at Faverolles.” When has Madeleine ever mentioned being from or going to Faverolles? The Hapgood translates this as “inquiries which you had caused to be made at Faverolles.” This makes it sound like he actively tried to find his family. Hugo specifically tells us that by the time Valjean left prison, he had forgotten his family entirely. And yet, it seems here as if he made an effort to find them, or find out what happened to them, once he had the means. What’s interesting to me is that Valjean would do that at all. Part of me says, well of course he would, he still cares about his family, and probably wants to know what happened to them, not to mention he has this thing about rose-colored glasses and probably was hoping he’d get some information despite knowing deep down that they were lost to him. But another part of me wonders why he would do that, considering that it could compromise his identity. Also I can imagine he might associate his past self, even his pre-bread robbery self, with his convict-Valjean self and his past as a “Bad Person,” so I’m not sure he would want to think about or associate with his convict self in that way. Just the idea that he maybe sent to Faverolles for information about his family is an interesting little piece of information.

We also learn that he has a leg that drags a little (and at the very end of the novel we learn it’s because he spent 20 years with a chain on that leg). Something that I’ve sort of written about before, when I reread the book in February last year, is how much information about Valjean we don’t get from Hugo’s narration. Despite much of the book being from Valjean’s POV (or Hugo looking over Valjean’s shoulder, which is how I always imagine it), Hugo always stays respectfully distant compared to his narration of other characters. The post I wrote was mostly re: Valjean’s true Thoughts And Feelings, but it also goes for a lot of his physical aspects and actions as well. Hugo doesn’t tell us about Valjean’s dragging leg when he describes him, Javert has to reveal that to us. We are told a lot of his aspects or actions through other characters interpreting him to him (wow jesus does that phrase make sense?) rather than Hugo showing/telling us while narrating through Valjean.

“He was very poor. Nobody paid any attention to him. Such people get by, one hardly knows how.” So my first thought is that this line is sort the opposite of what I talked about above. Javert knows how such people get by. Partly because he sees it every day, and partly because he grew up like that. While we just got evidence of Valjean remembering his past, this is evidence of Javert rejecting and forgetting his own. And my other thought is again how applicable this is to modern day. Cops, rich people, etc turn away despite knowing how hard poor people struggle. They know “how these people get by,” which is barely, and they know why and they know what can help or fix it, but they turn away and absolutely refuse to see it.

“Such people, when they are not mud, are dust.” This is such a pretty and poetic way of declaring such a gross opinion. But also it’s such an interesting pair of descriptors. When you’re poor the way Valjean was, or the Thenardiers will be, you are in a position to be blown away by society and by poverty, to be dirt that disappears and spreads far and wide with the gust of wind, and if you’re trying to locate a certain speck of dirt that you had been looking at before the wind blew, you wouldn’t be able to identify it. Or you’re in a position to be bogged down, to be stuck packed together, trying to survive, begging and stealing off of others around you because there’s no other way to survive, being stepped on and scoffed at by people in a better position than you, and then scraped up and tossed in a gutter or the galleys when it gets to be too much.

We get an age! Valjean is fifty-four. I feel like this is important mostly for his hair later on. Fifty is old enough to be greying but I think this makes us aware that he’s not yet old enough to be totally white-haired, and the change is a shock for that reason as well.

Holy shit this is the most adjectives I’ve seen used to describe a single character within a single chapter so far. Words describing Javert or Javert’s actions in this chapter: respectfully, conscientious, clearheaded, straightforward, sincere, upright, austere, fierce, violent, soldierly, cold, patient, genuine humility, tranquil, resigned, serious, calm, gloomy, sad, abasement, steadfastness, courageous dejection, solemnity, incorruptible, supplicating, simplicity, dignity, unenlightened, stern, pure, desperate, resolute, bizarre grandeur, oddly honest. The biggest takeaway from all of these, I think, is how much Javert’s pious loyalty to justice and morality is not corrupt, at least in the usual sense. It’s misguided, it’s unsympathetic, but he genuinely believes in his own actions. He is aware of his severity, but he doesn’t see it as cruelty, he sees it as justice. He doesn’t acknowledge the evil of his actions because he doesn’t see them as evil. He is (and I want to go into this later for 1.8.3) a personification of the “evil of good,” and an illustration of how justice can go too far. But he does everything with that air of honesty and cold dignity, because he genuinely believes that his morals and his dedication to justice is in the right.

“And now that I see the real Jean Valjean, I do not understand how I could have believed anything else. I beg your pardon.” So we’ve already established that Javert does not change his mind or admit wrong easily. We also already know he doesn’t like Valjean anyway. The only reason, it seems, that he is admitting to this mistake and asking for dismissal, is because of Valjean’s position of authority. Javert does not do mercy; once he believes someone is bad, they are forever bad. The exception is those in power, those who he sees as authority figures, even when he questioned them just a chapter or two earlier. His sense of duty overrides his morality. Which I think is a major point for him. This is what screws him over later on at the end of the book. When his morality drastically changes, he can’t change his sense of duty to fit it. The issue in this chapter a mistake which is fairly excusable: there is another person he can transfer that moral judgement onto (Champmathieu) and Valjean’s position as an authority figure overrides any of the moral suspicions Javert had about him before this transfer of moral judgement. If Madeleine-Valjean had been just a regular merchant, I wonder if Javert would have admitted to his identity mistake but also continued to be suspicious, simply because his instincts told him that if you think someone is bad, they’re probably bad.

Oh okay so this actually potentially answers my question from last chapter. Javert says “Scaling a wall and theft includes everything. It is a case not for a police court but for the superior court.” So does that mean the police could just toss people into prison for however long they liked if the crime was a misdemeanor?

Javert mentions that the police have not found Petit Gervais. I mostly want to note this because Hugo told us earlier on that Valjean gives money to every Savoyard that passes through M-sur-M and asks their name, and it seemed to imply that in doing that he’s maybe secretly hoping Petit Gervais will turn up. If Valjean hasn’t found Petit Gervais yet, I doubt the cops will.

Javert fundamentally misunderstands how Valjean is sly and cunning. Because Valjean is quite clever and cunning, but the difference is nearly all of his cunning comes not from direct lies or playing dumb the way that Javert is implying, but by using his surroundings and other people’s assumptions to his own advantage. (Plus disguises and wigs, but we don’t see that until Paris.) He buys himself time through things like the fake address trick during the Thenardier encounter, or wandering and disappearing into the woods like Boulatruelle observed, or taking advantage of incomplete information, like becoming Fauchelevent’s brother or burning his passport and becoming Father Madeleine. Valjean’s whole thing is being able to very quickly scan a room, register things, and then adapt and/or react to his situation quite quickly. (Side note: What’s interesting to me is that he’s great at adapting and acting when it comes to action but he is rather stilted and slow when it comes to emotional reaction or adaptation.)

“...tell her to make her complaint against the carter Pierre Chesnelong. He is a brutal fellow, he almost crushed this woman and her child.” Whenever Hugo mentions carts there’s usually symbolism there. In this case it sounds to me like a parallel of Javert, Fantine, and Cosette. At this point, Fantine is still alive though very sick, and Valjean is planning to go to Montfermeil himself to get Cosette. Javert’s imprisonment of Fantine would have destroyed Cosette along with Fantine, just as Chesnelong’s cart nearly crushed Mme Buseaupied and her child. She gets to make a complaint, she has the potential for Chesnelong to be punished. Fantine doesn’t have that, not to the same extent. She dies before it could happen anyway, but even if it could, she’s a prostitute who would be complaining against a cop, there’s not a lot of power on her side, even with Valjean vouching for her. But at this point, she’s only been “nearly” crushed; her child will be with her soon, at least she get that reunion despite being mortally ill, and Javert’s punishment for nearly crushing Fantine and Cosette is, weirdly, Valjean’s refusal to acknowledge his sense of duty and dismiss him.

“Besides, this is an offense that concerns only me.” This almost exactly parallels Valjean’s comment on Fantine insulting him: “The insult is to me. I can do what I please about it.” This is the second time that Valjean has denied, to his face, Javert’s sense of justice and duty by claiming offenses as a personal matter rather than a judicial one.

“In my life I have often been severe to others. It was just. I was right. Now if I were not severe toward myself, all I have justly done would become injustice. Should I spare myself more than others. No. You see, if I had been eager only to punish others and not myself, that would have been despicable!” I mentioned it above, but this is just so telling. Javert knows how severe he is, but he doesn’t see it as cruelty or lack of empathy, he sees his severity as totally in the right because it is for the good of justice. He especially sees it as good because he is willing to treat himself in a similar way. But this does make me wonder, like, would any treatment he got be as callous as the way he treats others? He’s a cop, and while he’s not the favorite of the other cops, he’s still an authority figure. So if he asked for others to be severe to him the way he had been severe to others, would they be? Or would they treat him better because he is or was an authority figure? Anyway, this line really establishes how entrenched in his own morals Javert really is. I feel like these lines here are the entire setup for his conflict and death at the end of the book. If he didn’t believe in treating himself with the same severity as others, the stakes wouldn’t be as high re: the consequences for letting Valjean go free.

Javert calls the defense of a lower person against a higher-up “ill-begotten kindness,” which I think is a really good indication of the way his view of justice works. Defending someone like Fantine, who has been beaten down and nearly broken by the system, isn’t empathy or charity to him, but kindness that shouldn’t be. He seems to think that in situations like this, the person who is being pardoned or defended shouldn’t be, and is sort of like gunning for special treatment by accepting that kindness.

“Good God, it is easy to be kind, the difficulty is to be just.” Maybe this is a weird way to look at this line, but I can’t help but think about Valjean’s conflict after leaving Digne when I read this. At that point, for Valjean, the difficult was in choosing to be kind, rather than choosing to continue to ride his old instincts that would lead to more crime. Javert learns at the end of the novel how difficult it is to be kind when all you know is being “just,” and it kills him. But here Javert equates kindness with moral leniency or maybe even moral abandonment, rather than with empathy and aid. To Javert, people who have done something criminal or morally bad cannot change and cannot be rehabilitated and will always be bad. Which makes me wonder what he thinks kindness actually is. What is Javert’s version of kindness, since he sees kindness in the form of aid or sympathy as reprehensible?

I wonder if Javert is thinking of Fauchelevent when he says, “I have hands, I can till the ground.” Would Javert have changed if he’d gone into labor work for a while, like Fauchelevent? Would work as someone who has no power over others have changed him?

Javert describes himself as a spy in a derogatory way. I think this is the only time he ever references spying in a derogatory way towards himself. However, he has been described as a spy or having spy-like qualities more than once by Hugo. For just a moment, he agrees with the narrator and reader about what he’s like, only it’s from a completely different angle. We can see that he’s “like a police spy” because he’s merciless and inflexible and generally unwilling to change any of his ways at all. He sees himself as “like a police spy” because he has breached a social contract and not only falsely suspected but reported on a superior.

A thought on Tome 1.6: I find it really interesting that despite the fact that this tome is titled “Javert,” it doesn’t include 1.5.13, which contains more of Javert’s narrative than 1.6.1 does. In 1.5.13, we see the drastic effect Valjean’s actions have on Javert, and the emotional turmoil he goes through in questioning authority the way that he does. And yet, that chapter is contained in “The Descent.” Instead, the Tome starts with “Now, Rest,” and Javert’s only role in this chapter is to write the letter to the prefect of police. So despite the Tome being titled after him, Javert is really only emotionally and narratively relevant for the second chapter. I would think that it might have been better to bookend the Tome with two chapters that were most relevant to him, 1.5.13 (which would be 1.6.1 then) and 1.6.2. Instead, 1.6.1 focuses more on Fantine’s condition which, though caused by Javert, doesn’t actually include or affect him at this point. At the same time, the last Tome was titled “The Descent.” This descent of Fantine’s levels out once she has fainted, which is a good transition into the next Tome.

[galiifreywolf]

Lost in time and space, aimless searching for a long lost face Why go wander unknown worlds? Stay right here and let the cosmos twirl, Blind without her source of light I lie awake, I say her name tonight...

Read on Ao3 // Read on WhoFic // Listen to the song!

The Doctor is mourning his loss of Rose at the Battle of Canary Wharf when he gets an unexpected message from Jack. Over a few drinks, Jack convinces the Doctor to confront his feelings, and do something about his predicament. Sometimes one little glimmer of hope is all it takes. Doomsday fix-it!

Lost in time and space Aimless drifting in a far off place…

Far above the Milky Way galaxy, a blue box drifted aimlessly in the vortex. A pair of brown-pinstriped legs hung out the open doors, kicking back and forth idly like a child on a swing set. Their owner, however, was not looking at the majesty of space sprawled before him - instead, he sat transfixed by the purple and blue patchwork shirt he held in his lap. Reverently, he traced his fingers across the inside-out seams, the heavy metal buttons, and the little tea stain near the bottom hem of the fabric. A tea stain that had not even set yet.

The stain was joined by a teardrop. Then four. Then countless others.

The Doctor dragged one hand down his face, trying to clear the water from his eyes and regain his composure. He'd lost track of how many days, nights - maybe years - he'd sat lost in his own anguish, clinging onto the last little bit of his pink and yellow human. What was the point, without Rose? Why continue to wander through unknown worlds, to go on far-off adventures, without her hand in his? Perhaps it was better to just sit and let the cosmos twirl beneath him, let time and space render themselves meaningless.

Hurtling through the vast unknown Staring straight into a pure, black void Drowning in a sea of stars…

The TARDIS thrummed softly behind him, trying to get the Time Lord's attention. Annoyance crossed across his features for a moment, but was quickly replaced by resignation. "Never allowed a moment of solitude, am I?" he grumbled. "Bloody universe always needs something…"

He exhaled sharply, slowly leaning onto one hand to push himself up from where he’d been sitting in the doorway, still gripping Rose's shirt to his chest with the other. He meandered to the console, rubbing the side of the coral gently with his thumb. It had become such a mindless gesture that he didn't even realize he was doing it, until the tears started to spill onto the console once again. The TARDIS hummed louder, pulsing a mournful note.

“I miss her too, old girl. I miss her too…”

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor noticed a yellow light gently glowing on and off, illuminating the psychic paper he had tossed haphazardly on the small shelf below the monitor. Familiar, all-capital letters were scrawled across it.

Long time no chat, Doc. Drinks on me? x JH

Despite his low spirits, one amused eyebrow arched into the fringe of the Doctor’s hair. He walked around the console, flipping the occasional switch, and let his mind wander back into his memories. Heavens knew he wasn't one to share his feelings over a drink - let alone with Jack - but he was so very tired of ruminating on his painful thoughts. Me! Tired of thinking! The universe really is ending, isn’t it, he chuckled sadly to himself.

+~+~+~+~+

Rich rust-colored dust swirled beneath the TARDIS as she materialized alongside a dimly-lit row of buildings, deep in an alleyway of some alien city. The Doctor slowly opened the TARDIS door and leaned against the frame, letting the warm desert breeze wash over him as he folded Rose's shirt and delicately placed it into his pocket.

He squinted a bit, peering through the haze. Twinkling string lights hung across the entrance of the tiny saloon-looking façade, contrasting sharply with the gaudy neon lights in a language that looked something like Mandarin Chinese. Inside, a whimsical, almost old-Earth-western-style song played, two voices mingling in a pleasant, lilting harmony.

Lost in time and space, Aimless searching for a long, lost face…

The painful tug of loss settled heavily on the Doctor's hearts again as he stepped out into the alley and made his way up the dirty concrete staircase. The tired wooden door creaked loudly as he walked inside the bar, but the noise was lost in the ethereal, shimmering notes of the band’s chimes and guitar.

It was a quiet sort of place; the kind of nook that people who need reprieve from the world often seek. Tall wooden tables were scattered through the room, each with an orange Edison-bulb lamp in the center. Most of the seats were full, with their occupants engaged in soft conversation. A small, midnight-blue biped with a handlebar mustache moved gracefully along the length of the long old-fashioned bar, running multiple beer taps at once with his six arms.

Stepping over the crushed peanut-like shells littering the floor, the Doctor wandered towards the back of the bar, where the warm light faded away and neon lights cast rainbow streaks across the walls. In the far corner, Jack was leaning back in his stool with his back pressed against the wall and one leg kicked up across the edge of the table. His gaze looked distant and reflective, as he nodded along to the tune and waved his drink irreverently into the aisle.

Without saying a word, the Doctor slid into the seat across from him and leaned forward on the table, hands clasped under his chin. “Jack,” he simply stated, watching the other man carefully.

Jack started, and a bit of his beer sloshed over the side of the glass and onto his leg. “Jesus, Doctor, give a man a little warning!” he laughed, his dazzling smile spreading across his face. He reached across to clap his free hand on the Doctor’s shoulder, lingering for a moment with a firm grip, blue eyes searching brown.

Lost in a galaxy of cocktail bars, Blinded by the neon lights, I lie awake and say your name tonight…

“The signs at Canary Wharf, Doctor, I…”the smile faded from Jack’s face as fast as it had arrived, now haunted by ghosts instead. “I had to call. I couldn’t sit around without knowing anymore. It’s been weeks for me, maybe months.”

WIth a rueful smile, the Doctor pulled Rose’s shirt back out of his pocket, smoothing the fabric between his fingers. Even through the heady scent of liquor and sweat, her lavender-vanilla perfume still remained - it had been a mere day or two for the Doctor. “She’s not dead, Jack,” he murmured, not looking up from the shirt in his lap. “Just gone.”

Jack craned his neck to look over the table and caught a glimpse of the shirt, and the tension in his jaw relaxed a little bit. He’d be a lot more upset if she was truly dead, he thought solemnly. Despite the warmth in his cheeks, Jack waved to the bartender to bring another round of drinks.

“Doctor,” he said quietly, but with conviction, “you gotta talk to me. I know you, and I don’t even want to know how long you’ve been sitting in your TARDIS moping about. This is what Rose would want. Me and you. Couple of drinks. That’s friendship, right? Getting all mushy about your feelings for a girl?”

I don’t know who I am, I don’t know where I am…

The Doctor and Jack talked long into the night. Patrons coming and going, the emerald-tinted light changing position in the window as the night sky turned, the echo of the band’s melancholy chorus - all were background noise to the two men lost deep in their own little world in the back of the bar. Together, they wove a story together of friendship and laughter, shared love and longing, and a deep companionship that only two wanderers can share.

“I don’t know who I am without her, Jack. How one little human can show up and… well, steal my hearts, I suppose,” the Doctor said, wistfully. Clearly, whatever they put in the alcohol at this end of the galaxy had managed to sneak its way in and loosen up his tongue. How many drinks had Jack ordered again?

“What, I’m not enough of a little human for you, Doc?” Jack grinned at him, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing playfully.

The Time Lord cracked a bit of a smile and rolled his eyes, “I’d say buy me a drink first, but I suppose you did make good on that one.”

For several more minutes, they simply sat in companionable silence, enjoying the music. Finally, Jack clinked his glass against the table, looking out the window at the handful of stars scattered in the early-dawn sky. “She’s not just any human, Doc, and you know it. Stop trying to deny it.”

The Doctor furrowed his brow and looked across at the other man. “Deny what, Harkness? What have I denied, specifically?” Reminiscing about the good times was one thing, but scrutinizing this particularly tender topic again was quite another.

Jack smiled and shook his head. “Deny what Rose means to you. Hate to break it to ya, but it’s been pretty obvious for a while.”

The Doctor sputtered for a moment. “How have I denied that? For the last four hours, thirty-eight minutes and twenty seconds, I’ve done nothing short of pouring my hearts out about how much I care for Rose. Really, Jack, try and keep up,” he grimaced, equal parts amused and heartbroken by the direction their conversation was going.

“Did you ever tell her that, though?” Jack sighed, draining the last of his drink again.

“Pardon?”

“Did you ever tell her, Doctor? About how you feel? Or how much she means to you? How much you lo-” Jack stopped, and took a deep breath.

“Does it need saying?” the Doctor mumbled, now very interested in the bottom of his Collins glass.

“Does it need saying? Does it need - so you never told her about the time you nipped out one night to that old posh teahouse, to learn exactly the right way to prepare her Earl Grey? Or that you nicked a bottle of her shampoo for your own bathroom, because you couldn’t get enough of the smell?”

The Doctor stared at Jack, jaw set. “Jack. Not another word.”

Jack’s started again, disregarding the Doctor completely - his voice louder now, an undertone of frustration lacing his words. “You think I didn’t notice all those nights in the library, when I was on board? When you’d wander the halls reciting Shakespeare’s lovey-dovey sonnets, as a rehearsal before reading it to Rose? Do you think the entire world couldn’t see the look on your face when she’d smile at you?” He rose slightly out of his seat. “DId you tell her, Doctor?”

I’m wide awake, I say her name tonight…

Jack opened his mouth to start again, but quickly closed it when he saw the sheen of moisture forming at the rims of the Doctor’s eyes. He carefully lowered himself into his seat, as the Doctor hung his head to avert his eyes.

“Then tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do, Jack, hmm? Rip apart time and space? Jeopardize the universe for my selfishness?” the Doctor said in a subdued tone.

Jack simply patted his arm again, and stood up from the table. “Yeah. Rose Tyler and the Doctor, in the TARDIS, just as it should be. Tell her what you should have told her a long time ago.” The captain dropped enough credits on the table for the two of them, winked at the bartender, and smiled once more at the Doctor before he strode out of the bar, whistling the band’s song.

The Doctor growled and scrubbed his hands through his hair, leaning forward onto the table. “And how in the name of bloody Rassilon am I supposed to do that,” he muttered dejectedly.

The lonely Time Lord sat with his tumultuous thoughts until the deep russet sun started to creep through the windows. Without a word, he slipped out the back door, and into his TARDIS. Maybe, just maybe, he’d found one last glimmer of hope. One reckless idea that just might work.

Bristling with eagerness and terror, the Time Lord pulled the double-lock control, shoved the directional unit backwards, and slammed his hand down on the dematerialization circuit. He focused all his remaining sober energy on one flimsy, fraying golden rope of a timeline, watching the woven strands break until only one tenuous filament remained. “Come on, come on, come on!” he bellowed, as the TARDIS moaned and screeched, hurtling through one last tiny, shining crack in reality.

Oh I’ll find a way, I say her name tonight…

+~+~+~+~+

On a dreary beach in Norway, two shivering, windswept women stood close together, watching in awe as the TARDIS materialized before their eyes. Rose Tyler had searched for months with undying hope that perhaps, just once, she’d hear that beautiful sound of the time rotor again. The pull had been stronger, this time, to come to this gray stretch of sand and rock.

Rose’s legs were carrying her forward before she could even make sense of what was happening. The salty air stung at her face, the freezing air burning in her lungs. The blue door creaked open, and the Doctor had only a split second to realize the feat he’d accomplished before his precious human barreled into him, gripping him into a full-body hug.

A warmth the Doctor didn’t realize had been missing blossomed back to life in his chest, in his mind, in his very being. He gripped Rose tightly, his hands splayed across her back, his nose buried in the crook of her neck to breathe her in. She nuzzled his neck gently in return, one hand sneaking up to rub the back of his neck softly.

“Hello,” Rose giggled quietly, her voice muffled. The Doctor pulled back slightly to look at her, smiling brightly.

“Hello,” he whispered, reaching to brush a tear off her cheek with his thumb even as his own ran freely.

Still holding him tightly, Rose looked back over her shoulder. To her surprise, Jackie was smiling knowingly, shooing them away with both hands. “Go on love, go with Himself, then! Don’t act like you’d be better off muckin’ around here without ‘im,” she hollered over the wind. “I love you sweetheart!”

The TARDIS started to groan, and the Doctor focused back on the frail golden timeline he’d chased to the water’s edge at Darlig Ulv Stranden. The thread flickered in and out of his temporal vision - their time was short, and this was the singularity - the flux point. Their time was growing short.

The Doctor moved to gently hold Rose’s cheeks with both hands, his shining eyes searching hers. “Rose Tyler… you stole my hearts a long time ago, and I- I never said--” the words caught in the Doctor’s throat, as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Please, love, stay?”

Rose choked out a joyful sob, nodding vigorously and pulling him back into a tight hug. The Doctor looked up once more at Jackie, smiling with more joy than he’d felt in his many long years. Thank you.

As the TARDIS faded away, the sun finally shone over Bad Wolf Bay, and a faint rainbow glistening where the box had been, interlaced with the strong, glowing golden strands of a now-healed timeline.

[akemiozawa]

Big Sister pt. 2

And if anyone wants to see a general pic of what the twins look like, I used Picrew. Bree is the left, Brad on the right.

Saturday

After a morning of waking, brushing, grooming, dressing and feeding the twins, Trina though it best to walk them around the campus and show them what their “future school” could look like.

Trina was clad in her casual gear, yellow headphones hung from around her neck, satchel swaying from side to side. Bree skipped in her favorite pink and white gingham dress and sneakers, her hair tied in pigtails with small red ribbons while Brad ran behind her in khaki shorts and a dark blue shirt, his blue high tops thudded to keep up with his sister. His hair swayed wildly in the wind.

They had just stopped outside the courtyard where statues of the Great Seven stood proudly alongside one another.

“So! Where you guys wanna go?” She squatted to their height.

“Whatever you want, Sis!” They said simultaneously. Their eyes bright and shining in the sun, and smiles innocent, Trina’s heart melted at their adorableness.

“Incoming!!!”

At that, a brightly colored hedgehog came sailing through the treetops like a cannonball. With her sixth sense, Trina turned, shielding the kids, and in time to thrust out her hands and catch the animal between them, landing on her feet for balance.

“Whoa!” “Big Sis, are you okay?!” The twins ran to her as she kneeled.

“I’m fine, guys! But this little one...”

The three looked down at the red-colored creature, who was shaking before it stilled and unfurled from its balled form. It sniffed Trina’s hands, looking up at the group. Squeaking happily, it curled into her cupped hands.

“Aww!” Bree and Brad cooed. They gently pet the hedgehog, just as Ace Trappola burst from the foliage. The twins looked up and hid behind Trina, unsure of this new presence.

“Trina! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know where he went for a second! You totally saved me!” He pushed his lips into a smile, cheeks obviously flushed from running.

“Ace! Where’d the hedgehog go? Did it get hurt?” Not soon after, Deuce Spade halted in the clearing. Before the redhead could answer, Trina snapped,

“What the hell, you two?!”

The first years were taken aback by her sudden retort. Homura’s lips were scrunched together, eyes narrowed, fists clenched. She lept to her feet with, “Nobody got hurt, for you answer, Deuce. But you could’ve put my cousins in danger!” The creature, now with the twins, wasn’t scared, neither were the latter. They could only stare at Trina with wide eyes. Even as she sped walked straight towards the two, eyes full of fire. Ace has his hands up in mock surrender, and Deuce looked ready to piss himself looking at her now glowing eyes.

“Hey! H-hold up, Trina! We didn’t know-OW!” “OW!!” The two rubbed the back of their heads from where they were slapped. But not before they were shoved to the concrete, catching themselves on their hands before they ate asphalt.

“You’re both lucky that I didn’t do worse.” She pointed out with a snark, anger dissipated. Jogging to the others, she scooped up the hedgehog carefully while introducing her cousins.

Ace smiles at the two. “Well then, BB, how’d you like to visit the Queen of Hearts herself? We’re having a small get together, and I think it’s a good opportunity for you to learn of Heartslabyul and it’s superior Queen!”

“Can we? Can we? Can we?!” The twins shouted with glee. Smirking, she looked up at Ace and Deuce.

“Why not?” A squeak of agreement from the hedgehog followed.

————————————————————

A couple minutes later, the main four were all seated in the Heartslabyul gardens, Trina and the twins included. Needless to say, the twins were enjoying their sweet tea and extravagant desserts.

Now, Cater, Ace and Deuce we’re running around the open grass, playing tag with the twins. Trina and Trey decided to stay to the sidelines, keeping an eye on them. As Cater fell to the ground, laughing as Brad pounced on him with a ‘you’re it!’, Trey turned to Trina.

“I have to say, Trina. I never knew you to be the sisterly type.” Trey commented, adjusting his glasses.

“Well, growing up with no older siblings was a bit difficult. How I managed is far beyond me.” Trina chuckled, entwining her ponytail between her fingers.

It wasn’t a lie. Trinity was the only child in her family. No other cousins or relatives around her age at the time. She had no figures to take after. The only figures she had to learn from were her mom, dad, and occasionally aunt Momo. It was a calamity. Her dad taught her one thing, but her mom and aunt taught her another. Often at times, conflicting with each other: Act a certain way, dress another way. It was very rarely for Trina, as a child, to have a say in doing what she wanted. But after the twins came into her life five years ago, that’s when things changed.....

Trina was too engrossed in her thoughts, she barely even noticed the twins screaming in terror.

“BIG SISTER!!!”

They hugged her legs, completely snapping her from her daze. When Trina saw them, she felt her heart crack: tears glazed their eyes, frowns present and they were shaking in fear.

“Oh no! What’s wrong?” Trina knelt to hug them both. They didn’t hesitate to embrace her. She wiped away their tears with her thumbs.

“There was this scary man in red who screamed ‘Off with your heads!’ out of nowhere.” Brad blubbered.

“We didn’t know if it was meant for us!” Bree sniffled. They bowed their heads in shame like they had committed a crime.

And thank god they did.

For after hearing what happened, Trina’s head lowered, bangs covered her eyes. But inside, she was hiding how she really felt.

“BB.” She spoke in an oddly calm voice. The two looked at her, but made no comment. “Both of you stay together. I just realized....I have something important to handle.”

————————————————————

Ten minutes later, Trina came back, with a smile on her face.

“Trina! Where’d you go?” Cater ran up to her.

“Oh, y’know, just had to deal with something. Where the twins?” She brushed off.

“Uh, they’re with Ace right now. Why? You need them?”

“As a matter of fact, I do! I’ll need them to help me with.... ‘important matters’ if you will.”

Cater was a bit iffy about the way that sentence was said, but before he could get a word out, Trina called for the two.

“Little Brother! Little Sister! We need to get going!”

As if they were soldiers, the two said their goodbyes to the Four Cards, and scurried to keep up with Trina’s strides.

Just as soon as they reached the front doors,

“TRINITY!”

The twins screamed and clutched each other in terror. Trina roller her eyes while turning to the person that barked her name.

“Hello, Riddle.” She spat his name like bile in her mouth. The Heartslabyul lead strode up to her, eyes stone cold, lips twisted into a scowl.

“What in Her Majesty’s name are you doing here?” He seethed.

“Aww, c’mon, Rose. Can’t a girl hang out with four of her amazingly loyal friends?” She pouted in mock sadness, hands held over her heart. She pouted, eyes glossy.

“Not with that attitude, you can’t.” He bit back. Trina let out a scoff of offense, but the former brushed it off, his steely grey eyes landing on the cowering children.

“And who are they?!” He swung his scepter down to point at the two.

“I-I’m Bree, and this is my brother, Brad, Your Majesty. We’re with Big Sister.” The little brunette managed to speak up, remembering what the Ace of Hearts taught her.

“ ‘Big Sister’?” Riddle repeated the word like it was completely foreign to him. He eyed Trina with suspicion while kneeling before the two, who were commanded to come forward.

“And why, pray tell, do you call...miss Homura your ‘big sister’?” He demanded in a soft tone.

“It’s because we love her with all our hearts!” Brad intercepted. “Big Sis is like one we never had! There’s nothing we wouldn’t do to protect her!” He shouted with glee. Then at the last minute, “Uh, Your Highness!’ with a small bow.

“Is that so?” They nodded at the question. Riddle, for a minute, didn’t seem to buy the twins’ answers. Knowing Trinity like he knew himself, there’s nothing the she-devil wouldn’t do to one-up him with all she’s got. He’d rather die than admit she was smarter, and probably scarier, than him.

But after hearing the rumors of her with two kids...maybe they have potential to help Riddle in the grand scheme in Her Majesty’s name! And possibly overthrow Trinity in the process.

“Well, then!” His voice took up a more happier approach. “Since you both have followed the proper rules towards speaking to a Royal, and with truthful answers, I can see that you both have potential! Joining Heartslabyul would be the benefit of your futures! Keep that in mind!” He instructed. With a snap of his fingers, two small badges with the Heartslabyul crest floated in midair before moving to each twin. They grabbed the pins, holding them close like they were new toy robots.

“Thank you!” They smiled. A small smile was on Riddle’s lips until-

“Uh, Your Majesty!” A timid first year ran just behind him but halted when he saw his commander busy.

“WHAT?!” Riddle snapped around to face the first year, his glare as sharp as a knife. The first looked close to pissing himself.

“N-not to make you mad or anything...b-but....we have an emergency! The roses are on fire!” He was gone as soon as the word ‘fire’ was uttered.

Riddle whipped around. If he was mad before, he was definitely seething now. His eyes were dead set on Trina, who just looked back at him with an innocent smile.

“This. Isn’t. Over. You She-Devil!” And with that, he hiked up his coat and raced towards the gardens at the sound of a fire bell.

Trina only watched him go with glee, while ushering the twins out, fingering the mini lighter in her pocket.

————————————————————

The three were out of breath as soon as they slipped out the Heartslabyul doors. Trina looked over her shoulder several times to make sure the monarch wasn’t hot on their heels, laughing maniacally as she did so running.

However, she wasn’t looking where she was going, and just as she turned her head back, she smacked into someone, sending her stumbling to the ground.

Just as she braced for impact, keeping her eyes open, she was surprised to find herself just three inches before face planting. She craned her head up to see herself inside a teal colored bubble. Her body floated in air. There was only one person who could manipulate gravity spheres like these.

“Breelyn!”

The little twin held her hand out in front of her, fingers glowing a bright green, her eyes doing the same action but were filled with fear. Her big sis nearly got hurt!

As well as the other student behind her.

Ruggie was trying to find where the hell Leona has snuck off to, only to crash into Trina (literally) sending them both in a stumble. He nearly landed on his back had it not been for the little squirt to save their asses. And was he ever relieved.

After Bree released the second years from her hold, Trina ran for Bree and scooped her into a tight hug.

“Bree! I can’t believe you did that!” Trina’s voice shook slightly. She felt so many things: anger, fear, shock, relief. But she still hugged her little cousin.

“Is Big Sis okay? I didn’t want you to get hurt!” Bree pulled away to stare at Trina with tears eyes. With one look at her, Trina felt herself tear up. She flicked her tears away before they could show.

“Yea, I’m okay.” She smiled. “But don’t do that again without me knowing! Lord knows what could happen to you if you over exerted yourself!” Bree nodded, giggling.

“Fluffyyyyyyy.” Brad cooed.

At the sound of his voice, Trina positioned her gaze to see the second twin scratching Ruggie’s ears, the latter obviously enjoying the young boy’s touch. Cheeks dusted a faint red, his tail waggling, and a stupid grin across his face was all it did to seal the deal.

Trina snickered as she held Bree closer. She silently whipped out her phone and hit the “record” button while watching the scene unfold.

“Big Sis, I’m hungry.” She heard Bree faintly whisper in her ear.

Trina silently looked at her watch. It was nearing dinner already! Luckily she knew a place that be admittable for the two.

“Don’t worry, Bree. Just a minute.” She answered, not taking her eyes off the smiling Brad.

————————————————————

After some time of prying away Brad from Ruggie, Trina carried the two with her to the Mostro Cafe for a quaint dinner.

Bree stayed in Trina’s arms, while Brad clung piggy-back style.

“Okay, you two.” Trina managed to slide Brad off her shoulders, and knelt to face them both. They were just outside the Cafe doors. “Now I want you both to be on your best behavior. Don’t act so rambunctiously. We’re in a public place, so be courteous. Okay?”

“Yes, Sis!” They grinned.

After lightly kicking the door open with her foot, Trina looked around the place.

Several students were dotted along the room as the sound of soft jazz played over the speakers. The windows displayed the calming waters of Octavinelle, the medium tone of blue set a serene-like tone to the place.

“Mmm. Pretty empty for a Saturday.” She mumbled, the twins stayed close.

“Then again, hasn’t it always?” A voice sung out. Trina smiles lazily. She looked over to see a postured figure stalk up to her, cane tapping the floorboards.

“Greetings, Azul.” She nodded in the second year’s direction.

“Ah, Trinity. Such a surprise to see you! You’re normally cooped up in your lair at this time, aren’t you.” Azul chuckled slightly. “Ain’t that right, boys?”

Slinking from the shadows, the Leech twins took their places beside their boss.

Breelyn whimpered as she hid behind her sis. She didn’t like the two new figures, as one smiled normally and the other grinned like a shark.

Trina pushed back her bangs in a subtle gesture, shrugging. “While that is true, I won’t deny. I’ve actually two reasons for being here.” Her eyes remained fixated on the trio, not a hint of anxiety in her stance or her eyes. “I’ve something that I’ve managed to find on the cameras. And I believe it could be of use...?” She raised one eye brow slightly.

“Is that so?” Jade walked closer to Trina.

“You’re not just saying this to throw us off, are ya?” Floyd echoed, following at the same pace.

“Because you know what’ll happen-”

“If you try to cross us!”

“Please, as if I’d try and think about crossing Azul Ashengrotto. He’s just as invested in the blackmail as yours truly.” Trina said nonchalantly. The twins were close to her, their eyes gleaming in dark mirth. Trina looked at them both, her eyes as stoic as ice. Just one movement could break the tension and-

The patter of little feet sounded. Then, the twins faces turned to pained ones. Jade let out a sound of pain as he fell while Floyd, well, did the direct opposite. “Ow!! Fffffffflounderfuck!” He grabbed his shin and hopped up and down, teeth clenched in pain.

Trina, eyes widened in confusion, looked down to see Brad fuming, a cute pout of anger etched on his lips. Apparently, the braver of the younger ones decided to take one for the team and kick both older twins in the shins. More like the crotch area, but who’s watching anyways?

“Stay away from Big Sis, you creeps!” He spat, hugging Trina’s leg as a form of protection, cheeks puffed out. Breelyn stuck her head out more, amazed at her brother’s actions.

Trina was amazed. Normally, any of the first years would practically shit themselves if the Leech Twins were near. But Brad, being a five year old, he’s not one for fear. Hell, one time, he stood up to one of his sister’s bullies with nothing a squirt gun full of deer urine.

He did get sent to the principal’s, but it was worth it seeing his sister smile.

“What the-? Who are these children?” Azul sputtered in surprise, looking at the twins.

Trina sighed and shook her head. This was gonna be a while.

————————————————————

A few minutes later, with proper introductions, apologies and grilled cheeses later, everything went back to normal.

The younger twins, having satisfied their hunger, slowly but surely warmed up to the older twins. Breelyn stayed with Jade. She was looking at the tri-stone earring he and his twin wore often. She stared in awe and the beautiful stones while he kept a hand on her shoulder. Brad and Floyd, however....

"Oooh! You're so high up in the air little flounder!" Floyd laughed as he held Brad above his head. "Oh no, you're gonna fall!" He said as he brought him down to his chest and hugging the boy tightly. 

“Again! Again!” Brad laughed, enjoying himself.

Trina smiles at the scene with affection, while swirling her cappuccino around in her mug. The two Octavinelle pins, with the Savanaclaw (courtesy of Ruggie) clinked together on the small dish in front of her.

“My, those two are a handful. How you put up with them is far beyond me.” Azul complimented, setting his tea mug beside hers.

“They’re my family.” She responded. “They mean a lot to me. If anything happened to them I’d never forgive myself.”

The other second year simply nodded. A small pause of silence was held between them.

“So what was it you said you found on the cameras again?” He requested, leaning forward slightly.

“One of the new Diasomnia students thought it’d be suitable to get revenge on Sebek. Called her something that didn’t stick well; she ended up cursing him. His hair changed color and his room became the next Atlantic Ocean. Wasn’t himself for a while.” She explained briefly. Azul snickered slightly, letting the conversation carry on past closing time.

————————————————————

One last part still in progress!

[twdmusicboxmystery]

10x03: Ghosts - Details

Let’s talk details today. I realized (because several people told me) that I didn't talk about the Carol/Daryl kitchen scene yesterday. I totally meant to talk about it. My post yesterday had so much in it, I didn't realize that I left it out. I'll get to that in this post.

***As always, spoilers abound below for 10x03: Ghosts. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

Opening Sequence:

I talked about the numbers at the beginning. I won’t go into details about the numbers leading up to 44. I'm sure they probably have significance, but I think I already pointed out the things that are most relevant to TD.

I forgot to mention something yesterday about the 49. @wdway​ had the insight that, in terms of history, Alaska was the 49th state to enter the United States union. That may seem random to you, but those of us who have studied the symbolism for a long time are familiar with this. Why? Because we saw so much Alaska symbolism in S6 around the wolves. Remember we saw the Alaska license plate in 5x16. 

The Alaska license plate has a flag with stars on it reflect the Sirius symbolism. So, the wolves (possibly the Whisperers), and Alaska are very entangled with Beth symbolism. The 49th hour could also represent Alaska and the wolves, which is just another way to point to Beth's return.

It's also important to note that we see a lot of binoculars in this episode. The characters look at walkers coming toward them from far off, so the binoculars theme is strong.

At the group meeting, Lydia says she doesn't believe Alpha is sending the walkers. We don't know who is if she isn't, but I think Eugene gives the explanation we’re supposed to accept. He believes the satellite falling from the sky and subsequent fire is bringing in walkers from all directions. Iet was bad luck that the satellite touched down near TF's communities, and they might be dealing with a lot of walkers for a while. We also see that the highwaymen want revenge on Alpha for killing two of theirs on the pikes. I think they’re probably setting up something there.

Rule of Threes:

A few examples I didn’t mention yesterday. After the town meeting, they divide into three groups. Father Gabriel will lead Alexandria in fighting waves of walkers coming from the north. This is where Rosita and Eugene are. It basically means staying in Alexandria and fighting them as they reached the fence.

Aaron and Negan go south to fight off the walkers coming from that direction. As Eugene said, the ones coming from the south are more dispersed and therefore somewhat easier to kill.

The third group is Daryl, Carol, and Michonne, who go to the northern border to meet Alpha. Another example of threes and also the north symbol.

Another example of threes comes when Negan and Aaron argue while fighting walkers. Aaron doesn't want Negan to have the crowbar because he doesn't trust him with a weapon like that. Negan finally relents and picks up the broomstick. Then Aaron says, "three coming in on your side." So he turns to fight three walkers. A small instance of three, but it’s there nonetheless.

Rosita and Eugene:

The first time we seem Rosita and Eugene, they're fighting at Alexandria together. Rosie asks, "You want to go back, don't you?" Eugene answers, "No, I'm good." It's a small scene, but the dialogue is very Bethyl-ish. It houses both the "you can't go back," theme we saw in S5, in the “No, I'm good,” reminded me of Beth singing, We’ll Be Good in Alone.

Meeting Alpha:

This was pretty straightforward and were obviously setting up a Carol vs Alpha arc. We saw the H coin Lydia left at the base of Henry's Pike.

Another instance of threes comes when Alpha points out that she knows TF has crossed her land three times. Once during winter storm, once during the fire, and once when Michonne and Aaron were on the bridge. I have to wonder how she knows all that. They’ve shown very obviously that she and Beta were not in the area, so how does she know. Did some of the Whisperers stay in the area? Maybe. Did she set up cameras? No idea. But it's very intriguing.

Aaron and Negan:

It's also important to note that Aaron and Negan fight walkers near a green and yellow tractor. Obviously, the colors catch our attention, but I thought of two times we've noticed tractors that are tangled up with Beth symbolism. 

The first was in S6. Just before Glenn's death fake out, he and Nicholas and Heath went to a tractor store to kill all the walkers there. It's kind of interesting because this was right before Glenn's death fake out, which has parallels to Beth's. But it's also interesting that Heath was there, and now he's with the helicopter people, the same as Rick.

I’ve also talked recently about the theme of having a weak character die while a strong character lives. I mentioned it with Lizzie and Mika, as well as Gamma and her sister. Nicholas and Glenn were another example of this.

We should talk about the hog weed. I talked about Aaron's blindness yesterday, and how this walker looked a lot like the Cherokee Rose walker from 6x06. The other thing is that Negan says the green stuff covering this walker is hogweed. Not only is that a pig reference, but this is a real weed you can look up. It does cause rashes and blindness. The reason Negan knew what it was is because he got a burn on his arm. Hogweed is an interesting choice because it flowers in a similar way to carrots. Only, it's very toxic where carrots are obviously not.

At one point, Negan makes random reference to the story of America. I thought that was kind of an odd thing for him to say until @wdway​ pointed out the 49th hour being an Alaska reference. It might be a way of saying that the US history is important in the symbolism. Remember, we’ve also seen paintings about US history, including the Thanksgiving painting and the Crossing of the Delaware painting.

When Aaron gets to the cabin, he's thrashing around and walkers get inside the door. Negan kills them. We had a couple of other Beth callbacks here. I noticed Negan said, "You all right?" It's a pretty generic thing to say, but I remember our fandom making a big deal about Daryl saying that to Beth in the graveyard. Because it showed he cared if she was all right or not. And remember that in this parallel, Negan = Daryl and Aaron = Beth.

Negan also asked if Aaron had washed out his eyes. Aaron said that he used water to wash them out and it was gone. Negan gives him water to drink. So, an example of someone running out of water once again.

Carol/Daryl/Michonne in the school:

I talked about how because of the dog on the outside, I believe everything is a reference to Beth's return. First off, let's note that we see a lot of broken glass here. A lot of it. (Broken glass theory).

Then there's the clock with no hands. @frangipanilove​, @wdway​ and I have actually talked a lot about what this might mean. We haven't settled on anything concrete yet. I think we need to see a few more examples of it before we know for certain.

For me, I think part of it is that Carol is sort of in prison in her own mind. So, the clock with no hands may represent a prison or the fact that time is not passing for some reason. 

@frangipanilove​ had a really good insight. She suggested since we saw a lot of clocks around Beth (that's where the clock symbolism originated, because someone asked Gimple if the clocks at Grady were important and he said yes) perhaps a clock with no hands represents zero time. In other words, perhaps when there is no more time, that’s when Beth will return. I think that's a really great insight because something else in this episode points to the same thing and it’s sort of an adjacent symbol.

Next to the clock is a flu poster. It occurred to me this could be connected to the radiation/sickness theme.

We see the egg timers around Carol. The thing about egg timers is that they always count down. If you set a timer for 30 minutes, it counts backward from 30 to 0 and when it hits zero, the bell goes off. We see the egg timer several different times around Carol and it always counts down to zero.

Remember also that in 4x16, A, Joe Claimer talked about New Year's Eve and the ball dropping and counting backward down to zero. This is a theme we've seen before. We’re thinking that the timer represents counting down to Beth's return and when it hits zero, she’ll show up. Seeing the egg timers go off three different times in the school represents this, and the clocks with no hands on them may too.

Of course, my opinion on this may change as we learn more.

I talked yesterday about how Daryl looks through the broken glass. I instantly recognized this as a Coda call back. We saw the gov look through glass when he went to the funeral home in 4x06, and that had a ton of Beth foreshadowing in it. Rick did the same thing at Grady just before Beth was shot. Now we see both Daryl and Carol do the same thing. So this is definitely a call back to Coda.

In the school, Carol says, "I'll take first watch." That's a call back to Consumed when she told him the same thing. This part looked visually similar to Consumed because it's her and Daryl in a dark building. They’re not alone, of course, and as I talked about yesterday, there also a lot of callbacks to Still, as well.

In the part where Daryl told the story about his father driving truck, there's a couple of details I didn't mention. Carol calls his dad a “meth-snorting trucker.” That’s a callback to Merle’s crystal meth, but also remember that Daryl mentioned the tweaker who used to sell to Merle in Still. So, this is a reference to Still.

Daryl mentions that the girl in the story, on the side of the road is crying. Think Beth in Inmates. He also mentions that when he thought he hit her, his dad called the local PD. Grady anyone? And even the way they sit with their feet flat & knees pointed to the ceiling is very reminiscent of how Beth and Daryl sat on the porch of the moonshine shack. Oh yeah, and the walls of this room are painted bright yellow. Just saying.

One other thing: his references to I-66 and Kentucky jumped out at me as significant. I couldn’t remember other times we’d specifically seen either in the show, so I Googled. The I-66 in Kentucky is a real thing. There’s a main drag that runs from Kentucky to Kansas, and to the East, one of its termination points is near D.C. Makes sense as a reference, right. But I also found out (HERE) that there were originally plans to extend it all the way through California. Those plans got cancelled in the ‘90s and the highway was never extended, but if it had been, it would have gone directly though New Mexico. So this is actually a cloaked New Mexico reference. Definitely a foreshadow.

In the gym sequence, Carol stepped into a noose, which makes it part of the hanging theme we've seen before. We also saw soccer balls a lot. I'm not sure what that represents, but the camera focuses on them several times.

@bethgreeneprevails​ also pointed out some parallels to Beth in this sequence that I totally missed. Carol stepped into a trap with her foot—like Beth did in Alone. With her foot in the trap, she shoots at a walker—like Beth did in Alone. And her cutting her arm where she did, with glass no less, is a parallel to Beth’s suicide arc in S2. I was trying to compare it to her bandaged arm in S5, which is the opposite arm. But in S2 she cut her left arm with a piece of glass. Coincidence?

Which leads to another theory we’ve been batting around. I said yesterday that we didn’t see her sustain the injury. We’re kind of wondering if, also paralleling Beth in S2, Carol did it to herself. I don’t know if it would have been conscious or unconscious, and I truly don’t think Carol is actually one to commit suicide. But it wouldn’t be the first time we saw a character self-harm to relieve grief. *coughs Daryl* I’ll come back to this in a minute.

Let's talk more about Carol's hallucinations. I said yesterday, I think there were three hallucination sequences inside the school. I don't count her seeing the home economics book, because I don't think that was a hallucination sequence. I think that was her seeing things while awake. But the other three were almost more like extended dream sequences.

I think the first one was when Daryl told her the story about the truck and the missing girl. That was dream sequence number one, and as they stand up, we hear the egg timer go off.

Dream sequence number two was when she walked to the glass window that was broken and saw the Samara walker inside. Then she sees Henry and hears him call her mom. It looks like she's about to get stabbed by the Samara walker when suddenly she wakes up. 

That's when Daryl finds her and says she's been gone for half an hour and tells her his dad was not a trucker. After that, the egg timer goes off. So because of the nightmare, she actually woke herself up prior to the alarm that time. But when Daryl tells her his dad was not a trucker, she was definitely awake then.

As soon as he leaves, she sees movement in the corridor and starts chasing it. This is when she goes into the gym. The gym is her third dream sequence.

I've also said that I think each of them represent something. I'm not entirely sure what yet but here's a few musings.

I said Daryl’s story about the girl disappearing in front of the truck sounds a lot like Beth and her body disappearing in Atlanta. So perhaps that represents the past. The second hallucination was Carol seeing blood and a dark walker and then Henry. I think this represents what she's dealing with now. Specifically, Henry's death. The dark girl (Samara) walker might represent Carol's own inner darkness and the demons she's dealing with. They’re literally haunting her dreams and chasing her around.

And the third sequence in the gym? Again, I can't be sure, but I think it represents the future. Something about the Whisperers will lure Carol into a trap. Perhaps that will lead to Ezekiel's death fake out. I said yesterday that I thought maybe their group ran into walkers outside the school and that's where Carol got the glass in her arm, but we didn't see it. I was thinking about that work in terms of what it meant for Carol, but it occurred to me it could foreshadow Ezekiel's arc.

Perhaps Carol will be lured into a trap by the Whisperers and it will lead to Ezekiel's death fake out. (Hence not seeing some interaction with walkers. That would perhaps symbolize Carol not realizing Ezekiel is still alive. It also lines up well with not seeing what happened with Beth and the walkers after Coda, and Daryl not realizing she is alive either.) Something like that. Only after that do we see the female whisperer’s eyes open, which probably represents Beth’s return.

Again, this is conjecture on my part and my interpretations will probably change as the arc unfolds. This is what I'm leaning toward now.

Let’s talk about the kitchen sequence.

They played a song called Care of Cell 44. Again, we kind of freaked out and realize there's a song by this name the show. There’s the 44 again, which is the issue where Andrea was shot in the head and survived. We actually saw a 44 on a magazine at the end of Coda with Morgan. Aside from being an obvious reference to Andrea’s comic book arc, you could also argue that we saw a 44 the end of Coda and now are seeing on again, which suggests the event of Coda are coming back around.

Think of it in terms of music. When you play music, there are signs at the beginning and ending of the coda to tell you when to start the coda, and when to end it, especially if there are repeats. So we saw a 44 at the end of 5x08, after Beth was shot. Now we’re seeing them in a big way again.

Back to Care of Cell 44. My thoughts immediately went to 7x03, The Cell. Daryl was a prisoner at the Sanctuary. Anyone who cared to interpret the symbolism there knew it was all about Beth. They played a song a lot like the one Beth sang at the prison in S3 and Daryl started to cry.

Also remember that even though Angela Kang wasn't show runner yet she wrote both The Cell and the episode in S3 where Beth sang. She put similar songs in both episodes. So it's important to note that music always has importance for Angela. And now she’s the show runner and doing an amazing job.

So we hear this song play during the kitchen sequence and it’s a fairly upbeat song. It reminded me of the upbeat songs we saw around her in 6a when she was making cookies and killing walkers, as well as songs we heard in 5b, such as the Bee Gees Spicks and Specks, which talks about leaving a girl behind.

So I know certain shippers are freaking out about this dream sequence, but that’s kind of laughable. I have three things to say about it.

1) There is nothing remotely romantic in it. It lasts about 15 seconds and Daryl and Carol barely look at each other. I also had the thought that their positioning in the kitchen, with Carol on the right and in front and Daryl on the left and slightly behind, looks a whole lot like when Deanna and Spencer fought in the kitchen in S6. If anything, that's backs up the idea of Carol and Daryl being mother and son in the sequence.

2) I don't think we've seen all of the sequence yet. I think it might follow a pattern similar to Rick's Old Man Coda/Carl’s vision for the future. In S8, we saw a little bit at a time. First, we saw Rick waking up, then later he went out into the main room and talking to Michonne. Then later we saw Judith come in, Rick talk to Carl, and eventually Rick taking Judith out through Alexandria to where Negan was working. But not until Carl died and they explained that this was his vision for the future did we actually see the full sequence, nor did it make sense.

I think there might be something similar here. Because the way Carol’s kitchen dream cut off, without much hint as to what it all means, makes it feel very unfinished. I kind of hate to speculate on where it's going (although, you know me, I will ;D) because I just don't think we have all the puzzle pieces yet. I think we’ll see more of this dream throughout the season, and we’ll get a little more with each time.

The other option is that maybe we won't see more, but some point Carol will explain something that's going on in her own head that will make this make sense. Either way, I don't think we can do much correct interpretation of this yet.

But!

I will give you two possibilities that are thought of. Just keep in mind that they will most likely change if we learn anything new.

So here goes. The fact that Henry is in the dream is important. He's wearing his compass rose T-shirt. The compass rose is part of the Sirius/North Star symbolism, and also remember how heavily Henry was paralleled with Beth when he was still alive. So, I'm thinking that Henry being in this sequence symbolically represents Beth being there.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Carol says she needs jam and Daryl tells her to go get some. We don't actually see her go, that the point is, she’s out of jam needs to go find some.

Remember that this is the episode where we had the peanut butter and jelly reference from FG, and that is definitely a Bethyl thing. Jam and jelly are the same thing. I feel like this is part of the peanut butter and jelly theme.

Beth = peanut butter and Daryl = jam. Carol and Daryl are the two similar ones in these relationships. In other words, Carol and Daryl are alike. They're the ones that are prone to pessimism, isolation, and self-destructiveness. Their significant others, Beth and Ezekiel, also similar. There are more prone to optimism, faith, and positivity. So the jam would actually represent both Carol and Daryl.

I think the fact that they’re out of jam and looking for more perhaps represents that neither of them are in a happy, romantic relationships with their significant others right now. They're not currently the jam to someone else's peanut butter currently. And then Carol almost leaves to get more. My first thought was this was simply another way of saying that Daryl and Carol will go on some sort of trip together, looking for their significant others.

Then I considered Henry. I'm thinking he might represent Beth in this equation. So maybe it's something more like they'll find Beth first and once she's with Daryl, Carol will need to leave on her own to find Ezekiel. Something like that.

And again, I'm really, really conjecturing here. Because I feel like were missing a great deal of the sequence and by the time we get it, I might realize I’m completely off in this interpretation. I'm okay with that. I'm just telling you some of the thoughts that gone through my head so far. Then we also see Carol's watch with no hands on it.

If it means Beth’s return, what I've said here already would make sense. It could also represent Carol being in her own prison and needing to break out of it by going to look for the jam. Again, just some thoughts. 

That takes care of the symbolism side of things, but I wanted to talk about something more literal concerning Carol. It was something Angela Kang said on TTD. (I’ll talk more about TTD tomorrow.) She was describing this scene and she talked about it in a way that hadn’t occurred to me until I heard her say it. For Carol, the scene is very carefree and upbeat. UNTIL she sees Henry sitting there. That’s when Carol wakes up and starts to cry.

So, according to AK, the reason Carol doesn’t want to sleep is because when she sleeps, she dreams of her dead children, and she can’t bear it. I could tell Angela was almost in tears talking about this with Carol. She obviously has a lot of sympathy for Carol’s character. I thought it was sweet.

And this may possibly counter what I said above. About seeing more of this dream. Maybe we will, maybe we won’t. But the reason it cut off so suddenly is because she saw Henry and woke herself up. Then immediately looked for more pills, which she didn’t have.

My point? AK confirmed this hallucination was not about Daryl. Not at all. The breakfast is just Carol’s idea of normalcy. Hanging out with her BFF. Eating breakfast. Being happy. But the point of having this in the episode is how messed up she still is about Henry.

And actually, that’s built right into the title. I think the ghost girl story Daryl told (technically Carol told it because it was her subconscious ;D) was a symbol/foreshadow having to do with Beth. But from a more literal standpoint, this was all about Carol’s ghosts. The ghosts of the children she’s lost.

I think the foreshadowing is showing where her dark, destructive frame of mind will eventually take her, and what it will lead to in the show.

Also, it occurred to me this might support our self-harm theory. Much like after Daryl lost Beth (and remember Henry was heavily paralleled with her while alive) Carol might be self-harming to deal with her grief.

I think that’s all I have for today. Thoughts?

[strandedhaze]

ONE : MEET CHLOÉ

FULL NAME: chloé isabeau blackwood. PREFERRED NAME: chloé. NICKNAME(S): clo. DATE OF BIRTH: july 7th, 1998. GENDER: cis female. PREFERRED PRONOUNS: she/her/hers. ORIENTATION: heterosexual. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single in main verse. RELIGION: she doesn’t have a settled religion, she takes from various religions and has her own beliefs. OCCUPATION: full time university student. CURRENT RESIDENCE: new york city, new york ; she resides in a penthouse in tribeca.

TWO : CHLOÉ'S BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: los altos hills, california. NATIONALITY: american. ETHNIC BACKGROUND: american. LINGUISTICS: english is her native languages and she speaks french fluently. she has a passion for asian languages and is currently learning korean. EDUCATION: she studies english literature with a special concentration in creative writing at nyu. CRIMINAL RECORD: clean. BIRTH ORDER: second. FATHER: john blackwood was born on february 2nd, 1973 in washington d.c.. he is a tech entrepeneur and investor, who helps launching companies and works within sillicon valley. he resides in los altos hills, california. MOTHER: ariadne richards-blackwood was born on june 10th, 1975 in san francisco, california. she is the owner of one of the most sucessful marketing and public relations companies in the world, a television personality and author. she resides in los altos hills, california. SISTER(S): mabel blackwood was born on august 11th, 2003 in los altos hills, california. BROTHER(S): laurens blackwood was born on september 25th, 1994 in los altos hills, california ; seven blackwood was born on april 14th, 2001 in los altos hills, california. OTHER RELEVANT FAMILY: elodie blackwood, niece. SIGNIFICANT OTHER: chloé is single. CHILDREN: none so far. FRIENDS: lillian atkinson, gérard lorente, thomas knight. EXES: bradley anderson and colin turner. PETS: kobe, a persian cat.

THREE : GET UP CLOSE & PERSONAL

HEIGHT: 5′8″ ( 177 cm ). WEIGHT: her weight oscillates between 138 lbs ( 62.5 kg ) 143 lbs ( 65 kg ). BODY TYPE AND BUILD: she’s slim, has what some would deem as the classic model shape, if you will. she’s not particularly curvy, doesn’t have the most accentuated waist or a big bust (she’s shy of a 32B) but it was never something that bothered her — even if, yes, she did suffer from a bit of bullying for being to tall and too skinny in her high school years — and she’s fine with the body she has. she still holds a feminine shape and she’s in good shape because she’s very passionate about fitness and wellness. EYE COLOR: brown, tend to shift to dark brown during the winter and hazel during the summer. EYESIGHT: she has perfect eyesight, though you’ll catch her wearing glasses every now and again, when the work load is increasing and she needs to give her eyes a little break. HAIR COLOR: brown. HAIR STYLE: she likes to keep her hair long, it’s sort of her safety-blanket and even when she needs to chop it, she won’t ever cut it shorter than perhaps past-shoulder length ( when she goes that extreme is when her hair has grown a lot and she can donate it to cancer institutions ). it’s also naturally straight so it’s not very high-maintenance. for the most part, chloé will wear it down and tousled, straight but with loads of volume and texture because that’s how she likes it. on the rare, she’ll curl it or leave it in beach-y waves.  DOMINANT HAND: right. NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: her round eyes, almost deer-like, her plump lips and thick eyebrows. SCARS AND MARKS: she has a tiny, little mole above the right corner of her upper lip which is the most notable. besides it, she has a few scars and marks here and there but none is particularly remarkable.  TATTOOS: none so far.  PIERCINGS: regular lobes. VOICECLAIM: elizabeth sawatzky. ACCENT AND INTENSITY: you can take the girl out of the west coast, but you can’t take the west coast out of her. her accent gives away she’s not from new york, even if it’s not as intense as it used to be. ALLERGIES: roses, bees and pollen. PHOBIAS AND FEARS: extreme heights, complete darkness and snakes. MENTAL ILLNESSES: none so far. PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: none so far. SCENT THEY WEAR: replica flower market by maison martin margiela and replica beach walk also by maison martin margiela. ALCOHOL USE: socially, she does. SMOKING: in situations of extreme stress, she will reach out for a cigarette. however, it’s rare it happens and if it does, generally, it means bad news. OTHER NARCOTICS USE: no. INDULGENT FOOD: soul food, as she calls it, happens every now and again when she’s going home to visit her parents or when she needs a little ‘pick me up’. SPLURGE SPENDING: sometimes, she’s not denying it happens once or twice a year. GAMBLING: no. ADDICTIONS AND VICES: none.

FOUR : DIG DEEPER

CAN THEY DRIVE? yes, she can drive. CAN THEY COOK AND BAKE? yes and yes. CAN THEY CHANGE A FLAT TIRE? yes. CAN THEY TIE A TIE? yes. CAN THEY SWIM? yes. CAN THEY RIDE A BICYCLE? yes. CAN THEY JUMP START A CAR? no. CAN THEY BRAID HAIR? yes. CAN THEY PICK A LOCK? no. EXTROVERTED OR INTROVERTED? extroverted through and through. DISORGANIZED OR ORGANIZED? extremely organized when it comes to her stuff, tends to be ridiculously messy when studying or doing school work. CLOSE OR OPEN MINDED? open minded. CALM OR ANXIOUS? calm. PATIENT OR IMPATIENT? patient. OUTSPOKEN OR RESERVED? outspoken, sometimes too much. LEADER OR FOLLOWER? she doesn’t like to lead but she also doesn’t like to follow. OPTIMISTIC OR PESSIMISTIC? optimistic but above all, realistic. TRADITIONAL OR MODERN? modern with a love for some traditions. HARD-WORKING OR LAZY? hard-working. CULTURED OR UNCULTURED? cultured. LOYAL OR DISLOYAL? loyal. FAITHFUL OR UNFAITHFUL? faithful. NIGHT OWL OR EARLY BIRD? early bird. she can go to bed at 4 am or at 10 pm that she will still rise up and early with the brightest smile on her face. HEAVY OR LIGHT SLEEPER? light sleeper. COFFEE OR TEA? both. DAY OR NIGHT? day. TAKING BATHS OR SHOWERS? baths. COCA COLA OR PEPSI? coca cola. CATS OR DOGS? dogs. NETFLIX OR CINEMA? both. SHOWS OR MOVIES? both. LAPTOP OR GAMING CONSOLE? laptop. HEALTHY OR JUNK FOOD? healthy. ICE CREAM OR FROZEN YOGURT? ice cream. PIZZA OR HAMBURGER? hamburger. LOLLIPOPS OR GUMMY WORMS? lollipops. BEACH OR POOL? beach. SNOWBALLS FIGHTING OR ICESKATING? snowballs fighting. LITERATURE OR SCIENCE? literature. HISTORY OR ART? both. CHOCOLATE BARS OR COTTON CANDY? chocolate bars. XBOX OR PLAYSTATION? playstation. FACE-TO-FACE OR PHONE INTERACTIONS? face-to-face interactions. DRAMA OR SCI-FI? drama. HORROR OR COMEDY? comedy.

FIVE : CHLOÉ’S LIKES & DISLIKES

FAVORITE ACTIVITY: boxing. FAVORITE ANIMAL: jelly fish. FAVORITE BOOK: the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by taylor jenkins reid. FAVORITE QUOTE: ❝ when i dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether i am afraid. ❞ — audre lorde. FAVORITE COLOR(S): grey, pale mint and soft lavender. FAVORITE DESIGNER: oscar de la renta and, as a brand, chloé. FAVORITE CUISINE: she doesn’t have a favorite cuisine, she likes to try various things from different cultures. FAVORITE DISH(ES): anything with avocado, caesar salad, tacos and californian sushi in general. FAVORITE DRINK: yuzu tea and hibiscus tea.  FAVORITE FLOWER(S): hibiscus. FAVORITE GEM: amethyst. FAVORITE HOLIDAY: a battle in between 4th of july and christmas. FAVORITE MOVIE: kill bill, probably. FAVORITE MUSIC GENRE: she listens to a little bit of everything — from mainstream bubblegum to cheer her up and have a laugh to hip-hop and hardcore rap to train and slow r&b and soul songs to wind down. FAVORITE SONG(S): games by SONIA. GO TO KARAOKE SONG: wannabe by spice girls. FAVORITE SCENT(S): the scent of fresh coffee, vanilla and mango. FAVORITE TELEVISION SHOW(S): plan coeur, insecure, how to get away with murder, when they see us and this is us. FAVORITE SPORTS: basketball, american football, volleyball and surf. SPORTS TEAM THEY SUPPORT: golden state warriors and oakland raiders. FAVORITE EMOJI: it must be something like 🤩 or 🤯 to be honest. FAVORITE WEATHER: she likes the hot days, when it’s almost unbearable and all you wanna do is sit by the pool or go to the beach. she also likes the pouring rain, not when it’s cold or windy, but the rain showers steadily falling, especially if she gets to see it from home. she’s a girl of extremes. FAVORITE SEASON OF THE YEAR: summer. FAVORITE PLACE(S): home. when she gets to be surrounded by nature and all the green, away from the concrete jungle and polluted air. she loves her parents’ house, she loves everything about los altos hills really. SUPERPOWER THEY WISH THEY HAD: time manipulation. VACATION DESTINATION: seoul, south korea.

[zoidham]

F!!RE - Devoted to Black Fashion & Lifestyle

ARTicle One:

Introduction. 

On Black Masculinity in Fashion

“Masculinity is not measured by your bicep size or sexual prowess but is a quality that is characterized by being affectionate, sincere, and responsible.” - Juwanza Kunjufu 

Hey Now kinfolk, I am Zoid Hæm, and in these personal letters I will be reflecting on the Black Lifestyle as it pertains to #Fashion, #Soul, and #Art. I have chosen the name F!!RE for this experience to pay homage to the young black artists of the Harlem Renaissance who shocked the world with a scathing peek into the mind of young and free black folks with their one issue magazine simply called Fire!!.(Source): https://bit.ly/2GwIIY0

Blackness, in its constant evolution is of my greatest interest, for as Arthur Jafa (@anamibia) said in his interview for I-D magazine with Virgil Abloh “…blackness isn’t just relevant to black people. It’s an ontological formation thats seeking to understand the world. It’s about the possibility for a different way to occupy earth, to exist in it. (Source): https://bit.ly/2m3ygzn

So here I sit at this cross section of fashion and soul, asking myself what does my external experience tell me about my inner world? And since the former spews out of the latter I see a fluid evolution spiraling up, beckoning at the fringe of our reality like an avant-garde symbol, hated and misunderstood like all mysteries shrouded in blackness. Excitement billows out of me, as my existence becomes a thorough definition of the contradictions in my black consciousness; like vines, unconfined by the square bricks of this society, I sprawl out, creating branches, bridges, and underground railroads, breaking out of learned labels and ushering a new wave. A wave filled with bubbles that when they touch, combine and crash on this countries shores of Thought, making us all the more unique and free.

“Cultivate your Uniqueness.” 

Free Hugs and Painted Nails:

Today's letter focuses in on black masculinity through the lens of fashion. It must have been the summer of 2011 when I sported boastful yet crude painted nails, and a small white button that said “Free Hugs". My body type was bulky, aggressive, and shouted, “Angry black man!" I had just finished my career in football, thankfully, and found myself hustling in the streets of New York City, as green as a rose stem among the grey concrete jungle, who's edifices and faces made me feel small, innocent, and utterly naive. 

Yet in this place I began to shift my image, first my thoughts, by asking any and all types why they are who they are. Mind you as the son of two preachers who never went to a house party or drank till college, even with my years at university there was still so much I didn’t know; but what I found is that when I approached folk they were always very guarded and unsure. I always blamed racist propaganda for their hesitancy but then I began to think more about what my image was saying to them. To them and this society my look gave off certain triggers in them, and by them I mean all types from old, young, white, black, brown, men, women, LGBTQ, CEO, or homeless. Few if any paid me any mind, or quickly gave glance and turned the other way. 

Haha a hilarious anecdote that actually made me change my entire “costume” was that one day, walking out by Central Park I saw the actor Michael Cera! Yep, Mr. Superbad himself, I was such a big fan I blurted out as we came close to each other “Holy crap! It’s Michael Cera!” Haha and true to form, with a hilarious face and mannerisms he looked up, eyes widened, and immediately turned around, and scampered the opposite direction down the street. I was a little hurt and shocked, but still laughed. It was at this point I was like YO! What do they see?

I went home, a 6 floor walk up in Chinatown, and looked in the mirror and began to take some notes. Broad chest, big beard, long locs, rather run-of-the-mill black man, how boring! I knew inside me was something that defied all definition, that I was a spirit teeming with affection and love for my fellow humans and wanted to be able to sit and express with them. But what I typically was receiving was the energy of dismissal and guardedness. I had known this well from black women at university who used me as a whipping boy to take their frustrations out on all black men, while I received, in screaming opposition from white women, so much attention it felt disingenuous, for them any n!gga would do; but now this was pervasive… I realized that my presence scared people, and that they weren’t actually seeing the REAL me.

I paced in my small apartment unit, thumbing a small button in the jacket I just bought, mentally drawing up how I wanted to present myself. “Alright first we need to lose this weight, so we can fit into all these cool clothes, but also fit better in these rooms of artists and intellects, and then lets keep the beard and hair nappy, edge is important, but lets dress in chic cheap fashion, cuz we are super broke and are only going to be able to afford the thrift store…” As I was thinking I pulled out the button from my pocket and read what it said “Free Hugs” almost unconsciously I pinned it to my jacket and didn’t think much of it.

The next day was Friday and I typically made my way to the museums since they were free. I bought a bottle of FireFly ice tea vodka and headed to my friends pad down by wall street so we all could get faded and go see some art. As I was walking down the street, I saw faces smiling at me, and so I smiled back, not used to New Yorkers showing any emotion besides anger I was a little surprised but kept pushing. After hopping off the train, I turned the corner and a short portly jewish women threw  her arms up and said “Yes I need one today!” And gave me a big long hug. I just stood there shocked by this stranger squeezing me, like I was her grandson, but before the hug was over I retuned the energy. She smiled and walked on by. As she left I looked at my reflection in one of the wall street buildings and saw that I still had the “Free Hugs” button on my jacket, and smiled thinking, how bout that! A free hug trumps propaganda, age, fear, race, etc.  all they needed was the permission to show affection. 

Fast foward to half the bottle gone, and a small loft full of young, gifted and black artist, all dancing and singing to a Stevie Wonder record. I had painted a haggard green sweat shirt with the word Free Hugs in big red letters and donned it as I joined the harmonious voices that filled the room with the joy of a Friday afternoon. I went over to the kitchen to fill my glass, when I realized I had gotten some paint on my nails, and began to peel it off when my crush at that time, a stunning orange afro having queen said, "Naw leave it! In fact here!” She came over with some nail polish and painted quick little designs on my nails in green, red, and yellow. My first reaction was wait I can’t wear nail polish, but when I looked at my hands I became enamored, my how strange and unique, these dainty hands on a Rasta brute! This was just the right amount of contradiction and juxtaposition of strength and vulnerability I was looking for. Leave it to black women to bring a dream to reality.

And thats exactly what happened, when we hit the streets in that Friday sunset, New York finally saw me, and opened like the flowers in sunlight on the corner of Strawberry Fields. Over the next few months, my body slimmed, my smile grew, my nails where chipped and covered with color haphazardly, and hugs clung to my body like the tight fitting cheap fashion I found. But most importantly my thoughts began to change, because I was engaging with more people from all walks of life. I ask myself to this day, did the fashion open them up or me up? 

Fashion is metaphor touted as a mask, there to conceal or reveal our inner truth, and for me I found a unique edge to walk, one where I hold space with masculinity that only knows mixtape lyrics and football, as well as a space that spoke of Basquiat’s and Warhol’s, the fickleness of love in any gender or sexuality and the need for soul and romance. I am still the minority in most rooms I walk into, typically they don't know what to think of me, I hear little conversations in the corner, ”He must be gay, or bi, no no look he’s with ball players and gangsters, naw naw he has lots of girlfriends, yes yes hunny he can get it, but he curbed all of us and I’m fine so wats the deal, oh he’s different.”

Different… little do they know I’m just like them, expressing all that I am. Removing the labels and images and thoughts that society has forced upon me, left me blank a slate to be creative. Still I have much more to remove and redefine in this ocean of blackness that is my being. One can be masculine in a dress, one can be feminine in baggy jeans, lessen we forget #STONEWALL and what those activists fought for, the freedom of image. Culturally and generational things shift, the meaning we put behind garments and fabric is all made up, just like us; and no one need be ridiculed or shamed for making their fit…fit. So what are you wearing today? In any way, you look good on you.

Posivibes,

hæm

Credits:

Image one by @johnyu.co 

for Westword Artopia 2019  

[awfully-sadistic]

Week 1: Oct 2nd

The Adventures of Dottie and Dodger A series of linear prompt one-shots.

I kind of broke my own rule and couldn’t resist adding in a little something-something special. You’ll know it when you see it. I just hope it’s not too strange. But what the fuck, I can mold this story any way I want.

It was very early morning in the second day of October and Dot was on her way to the office building she and Dodger had purchased just yesterday. Driving down the road, Dot could see that various Halloween objects have been put out decorating yards and roofs with over-sized grim reapers, inflatable and real pumpkins, and strings of lights celebrating Halloween colors, but that wasn’t a surprise. It was as early as mid-September when she began to see signs of Halloween and it excited her.

Halloween was her favorite holiday and the entire month was already promising to bring along the spirit as soon as it could. With the appearance of the Poltergeist yesterday (and the paperwork that followed, but we don’t talk about that), Dot thought that Halloween had definitely come early. She wasn’t complaining. She wished it was Halloween all year-round, but with the spooky month comes attached their busiest time of the year.

It was expected that Human and Supernatural alike call upon the Agency in a tizzy about hauntings, possessions, and other spook factors that wouldn’t normally make an appearance any other time of the year. Obviously, Halloween lowered some sort of barrier that allows the things that go bump in the night liberated freedom this time of year.

She remembered last year; she didn’t think she’d survive much longer running their business out of her home. There were people coming and going and she didn't like the unexpected visitors who would appear in the dead of night for an emergency. She would not admit this, but it was also kind of freaky hearing about all these spooky stories and then having to go to sleep in the same house. There were times when Dodger had been called and invited to stay the night simply because Dot had heard something she wished she hadn’t and her overactive imagination had convinced her that everything was out to get her.

In those times, Dodger was nice enough not to question her intentions as if he had already known what had been bothering her. Then he’d attempt to bore her with interesting tidbits he might have learned that week. It normally had the opposite affect; they’d both stay up all night talking.

Dot finally pulled up to the office space. The building on the outside looked as abandoned as it had on the inside. But Dot figured with a little TLC, the place would brighten right up. A little bit of rose bushes lining the sidewalk to the front doors could work wonders and baby’s breath with some carnations and other filler flowers as accents would make the place seem cheery and fragrant. Someone to take care of the grass would flush this place with some much-needed color instead of the concrete jungle in its place. Trees were scattered about but they looked like they were dying; granted it was in the middle of fall, perhaps they’d look a little different come spring.

It was all one story, (thank god because who liked to climb stairs?), with the parking lot in front right off the road with enough space for the employee range given in the office. There was about twenty-four rooms and Dot knew because she had made a quick run back and forth from her home to make good on the promise about filling the rooms with her old outfits. She had her very own personal dressing room and it felt real fancy if anyone asked.

She just didn’t know what to do with the rest of the rooms. Rooms with more than enough space than an employment of two.

Well, three now with Armand, Jr.

Armand, Jr. or from this point forward known as Armand was the ghost that lived in the Grandfather Clock Dot had named Armand. So, in reality, the clock would be Armand, Sr. There was honestly no reason to tack on a Jr. to Armand, Jr’s name but for the sake of this on-going inside joke now, it was there now and Dot didn’t want to change it. Perhaps it hinted at her personality that she was resistant to change, no matter how little. Dot wouldn’t give it another thought now especially since she was pushing her way through the glass double-doors that would sweep her into the receptionist and waiting area.

Her eyes widened as she took in the receptionist area. It was like a whole new place. Yesterday, there had been cobwebs and dust settled on surfaces and white sheets over various furniture pieces that had been left behind. It had given the place a gloomy look.

Now, there was no sign that there had ever been a speck of dust. The area was brightly lit and felt welcoming. The walls were painted, she now realized. A light, baby blue. She could see there was also an assortment of hanging pictures and magazines laid out on the coffee table nearby and stocked with one of those wooden holders you’d mostly see at an official looking doctor’s office or a dentistry. She was taken back by the presence of a water cooler; she hadn’t seen that yesterday. Perhaps even more surprising was a working 32” flat screen television on the wall opposite the assembly of chairs and it was switched on, mute, showing various flashing pictures about Ashbourne; News. Local stuff. Captions on.

Looking at her feet, she could see that the carpet had been vacuumed recently and perhaps possibly cleaned but she couldn’t tell. But it surely seemed like it because it wasn’t this color yesterday.

Holy fuck, this place was actually functional.

She bumped against the receptionist area, the cutout window reminded her something of a shell and she hung in, trying to take a peek in the back. From what she could see, the police station area with its cubicles was arranged, straightened out, and she thought she could hear voices further back.

“Helloooooo?” she called out.

The voices stopped. Dot strained to hear if Dodger or Armand had been talking to each other but when she felt a light tap on her back, she nearly shrieked. Pulling herself out of the cutout, she whirled around and saw that both Dodger and Armand had come in from the outside with grocery bags in their hands.

Dodger had been the one to tap her. Dot placed a hand over her racing heart, taking in a deep breath to steel her nerves. “Goddamn it, Dodge. What did I say about doing that?”

“Announce ya’self.” Dodger repeated using the same inflection Dot had always used on him.

“Cheeky bastard.” Dot scolded but she had a grin on her face. “Don’t just do that. It’s a good way to get smacked one day.” her gaze trailed down to the bags they held, a question already forming in her eyes even as she finished speaking.

“We thought we’d stock the break room.” Dodger met her halfway, nodding his head beyond the door separating the waiting area from the rest of the office building. Dot followed his gaze before coming upon a sudden reminder. One that sent little shivers up her spine. It had suddenly clicked that she had without realizing, subconsciously noticed, she was the only car in the parking lot.

“I thought I heard voices back there.”

“You probably did,” Dodger said, looking at Armand. “there’s a television set in the breakroom, too. At his insistence.”

“I tried to get one put in the bathroom but I remembered, I do not have to use one.” Armand smiled.

“I reminded you of that.”

Armand’s smile never wavered even as he amended, “Dodger reminded me of that.”

Dot still didn’t feel comforted for some reason but it might have been her overthinking everything. But the banter between Dodger and Armand did a good job of distracting her enough to push that uncomfortable feeling away.

“I didn’t know you could eat, Armand.” Dot said, giving him a rub on the head. In his corporeal form, Armand was physical to the touch which allowed him to hold on to the groceries and appreciate Dot’s gesture. He was also taller than her and she had to stretch her arm up to even do that much. Armand ducked his head and the look on his face was similar to the look he had when he was praised.

“I can eat. I can taste flavors. But it doesn’t do anything for me. I cannot gain any nutrients or get the same satisfaction of feeling full. I think it does help me with energy, but I don’t know for sure.”

“I suspect it helps him keep his corporeal form for longer.”

Dot looked surprised at Dodger’s input, “He can’t hold onto this form for very long?”

“He can go about a full day but needs to rest the next so he’s told me. So, every other day. To see if eating restores any energy to allow him to hold onto this form for longer, I would have to test this theory by feeding him and then checking against how long he can previously hold out, if there’s any change at all. It’s going to take weeks to gain a definitive answer.”

“How exciting.” Dot said dryly before adding, “You do know, he’s not a science experiment. Right?”

Armand, silent through the exchange, finally spoke up, “It’s alright, Dottie. I told him he could try. If it helps you guys, I would love to be in this form for much longer. It just feels right.”

Dot could feel that Armand meant that with every ghost fiber of his pure being. She could feel her heart melting at his resolve and knew he earnestly meant to do anything he could for them. It had been radiating off of him in waves. Armand almost seemed desperate to be of use to them.

For what reason, she still had to find out but she wasn’t about to make him bend over backwards in the meantime. It was even harder to tell if he was mistaking this corporeal form as to partake in being alive again. His comment about trying to use the bathroom was funny but the undertones seemed depressing. He was doing live things or entertaining the thought, but what for? Because Dot and Dodger were alive and he was trying to fit in? Was he staying in this form because it helped them or him?

And was it wrong to encourage him to stay in this form longer in case it feeds into the fantasy? Dot wasn’t one to turn away from anything fantasy related because reality sucked. She daydreamed all the time. She didn’t want to tell Armand to face reality. He shouldn’t have to especially if she didn’t want to.

And why was his personality as eager to seek out praise as often as he did? Was this part of his unresolved business? Ghosts were tricky because there could be many reasons they stayed behind. Armand showed no indication that he was disgruntled or regretful in anyway. If anything, he seemed happy-go-lucky and incredibly naïve. Trusting. Perhaps, too trusting.

She searched Armand’s expression; he stared back at her with a smile that looked hopeful. She knew she couldn’t help him if it turned out he missed being alive if only because she didn’t know how to bring back the dead and the day when that realization hit him was going to break her heart. She hoped that wasn’t the case. With every fiber of her being, she hoped so dearly.

She took the groceries from Armand’s delicate looking arms, signaling the men to follow her as she pushed through the doors to head for the breakroom.

“What would help us is you being yourself, Armand. I don’t expect anything from you except to do what you want to do. If you want to help us, that’s great! And if you want to help Dodger with his weird experiment, you can do that, too.”

Dodger made a discontented noise at the back of his throat as they settled the groceries on the counter in the breakroom. Dot made a note to check the television; to her relief, it was still turned on. To her ‘not relief’, the volume was turned down so low, you could only be in the breakroom to hear it. She hoped to god sound traveled in this building.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been part of an experiment. Do you think it’s fun?” Armand asked, looking between Dodger and Dot. Dot was pulling apples out of the bag before she turned to look at Dodger because she didn’t know how to answer this one.

“It’s fun for me.” Dodger replied, pulling out a hand of bananas.

Armand pulled out a toilet brush scrubber, “How do you eat this one?”

Dot took the scrubber gently from Armand’s long, graceful fingers. “You don’t eat this, honey. And Dodger is going to try to make this experiment as fun for you as he can or I’m going to make him eat this.”

“Noted, love.” Dodger murmured, preoccupied with his groceries to worry about what was in Dot’s hand. Armand had a look of realization on him.

“Oh, it’s Dodger food.”

“Exactly.” Dot laughed.

Putting away the groceries was longer than usual if only because Armand kept asking how to eat everything. And not everything Dodger had bought was for consumption. But Dot had the patience to teach him what was and was not safe to eat. Basically, anything in the fridge but if Armand was unsure, he was to get Dot’s approval first. Dot also had to hand it to Dodger; he did a good job of stocking the breakroom with lots of snacks and he didn’t forget her creamer and fixings for her coffee.

“After five years paired with you, I better remember.” He said, taking a sweep around the breakroom. “I’ll have to write a thank-you note to the Agency for giving us their old equipment.”

“Ah, I was wondering where we got half this shit.” Dot commented. “Can’t believe Chief Aldric would part with any of it to help us.”

“He specifically told them to give us the stuff they had in the storage room. If they attempted to give us anything new, they could start working for us. At least, that was what Agent Hartwin told me while sounding very apologetic.”

Dot’s face grew a discontented look about it, “Mm. He’s always been a little cowardly. But that’s the same storage where everything gets thrown in once it outlives its usefulness? That sounds more likely. Yeah, thank them for me too.”

“I kept telling them I could repair almost anything. Everything they’ve given us I was able to repair with no real cost. I had most of the spare parts I needed at home.”

“Well, like you’re fond of saying, their loss.” Dot said, wondering what the inside of Dodger’s house looked like. “It certainly looks like everything works like new. I wouldn’t have thought we got hand-me-downs whatsoever.”

Armand looked lost, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Free stuff usually is,” Dodger pointed out. “but they meant to give us their broken and out of date equipment. Perhaps as a way to haze us. Or thumb their nose at us.”

“I don’t think anyone’s used that saying since the 1800’s,” Dot cracked.

“Actually, my dear, the first usage was recorded around the 1920’s. It made a reappearance around the 1930’s but since then I’ll admit it’s a little out of date.”

Dot and Armand stared at Dodger who didn’t say anything after that, content that his lesson had gotten across. Learning something new was never expected or planned as far as Dot was concerned. However, Dodger’s matter-of-fact way of speaking and on a rare note, when he went on spouting facts about word usage or anything else he seemed to be an overnight expert on, she would let him babble on about the little factoids because she would learn something new whether she asked for it or not.

For the most part, he could come across as a know-it-all for those who didn’t know him.

Dot did know him and understood he wasn’t just showing off. He was genuinely sharing something with her and she often replied like a proud mother. “Thanks, Dodge. That’s really interesting.”

“That sounds silly,” Armand said next. He placed his thumb on his nose, “What is the point of this?”

“It’s a gesture that’s meant to disrespect,” Dodger replied. He took a moment to extend Armand’s fingers so he was doing the gesture correctly. “wiggle your fingers. That’s how it’s supposed to look.”

Dot placed a hand over her mouth to conceal the giggle wanting to escape. Armand looked confused, seemingly still not understanding how it’s supposed to be an insult. But he seemed to realize that he was currently gesturing towards them and gasped at the sudden revelation. “Oh no! I didn’t mean any disrespect!” His hand flew off his nose and straightened to his side. “I’m so sorry!”

Dot laughed this time, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Armand. It’s just a silly little gesture and if you want to do it, go ahead. But always at Dodge and never at me.” She gently teased. Armand seemed shocked at the insinuation that he could ever thumb his nose at Dot. The very idea of insulting her whatsoever seemed to pale him more than his ghosted form.

“I’d never!”

The sentiment was sweet and filled Dot with a warm feeling that surely showed in her smile.

“I’ve had the business cards renewed, “Dodger brought up, calling their attention. In a separate bag that Dot hadn’t noticed, Dodger pulled out a cardboard container the size of a medium jewelry box. The top came off like lid and Dodger pulled out a single card. It was a matte black cardstock with their new address and phone number pasted under the name of their office in sprawling gold script. It looked incredibly fancy, Dot was afraid to touch it.

“Sanctum Sanctorum?” Dot asked, looking up at Dodger. “Isn’t that that one place where you-know-who lives in New York or… something? It was all over the news years and years ago, we can’t get away with something like this.”

Armand quirked his head, “Is something wrong with the name? When Dodger explained it’s something you really liked, we thought it was the best idea to go with.”

Dot could feel herself grow soft at the thought they put in for her especially since Dodger remembered a passing comment from more than a year ago. But she shook her head, “You probably don’t know this, Armand, but it’s a really big world out there. Aside from the Agency, there are organizations out there that do bigger work than what we do with a lot more pull and power.” Then she turned to Dodger, “We’re going to get sued.”

“It’s alright. It’s a Latin phrase and the last time I checked, there was no copyright on it. There are plenty of places that use the same phrase. By its very definition, all it means is a sacred place.”

“You really have an answer for everything.” Dot remarked but she couldn’t believe they were actually getting away with calling their new office building a Sanctum Sanctorum. As long as they didn’t put “the” in front of it, maybe it’ll be okay. That way it didn’t seem official and they didn’t step on anybody’s very important toes…

“Well, we better start calling it the Sanctum for short before we get a call from… disgruntled but really impressive superheroes.”

“Superheroes?”

Dot and Dodger glanced over at Armand. In a lot of ways, he really was like a baby. He remembered some things from the time he was alive but other things, you had to explain to him. It was a good thing both Dot and Dodger exhibited patience well beyond their years. Dot cleared her throat taking the lead on this one. After all, she’s been following the history and accounts ever since their appearance.

“Years and years ago, like way before Dodge and I were born and before our parents were born and perhaps even their parents, so we’re talking about grandparents and maybe even great-grandparents, there was a really scary war. Like, we’re talking throw everyone back in medieval times, end of the world as we know it, war. Back then, relations between Humans and Supernatural beings were non-existent as proof of the Supernatural was more or less unverified. Things like Ghosts, Vampires, Weres, Witches, or anything else like that was deemed legend and at most, urban legends. Other times it was fuel for scary stories on camping trips and scaring little children into behaving.

But it was near impossible to prove the existence of anything Supernatural and for the most part, Humans didn’t have anywhere near the impressive range of abilities they have today so everything was really boring and mundane. Even so, Humans were pretty advanced. I mean, the stuff they had back then doesn’t hold a candle to what we have now, but they were pretty advanced in technology and space exploration and in those times, it was pretty impressive especially when we look back in the past and see how far we’ve come. Back then, they could only get to Luna. Now, we have a colony on Luna. See the comparison?”

“Luna?”

“The moon, love.” Dot laughed. “So, circling back to the Supernatural, Humans had sightings, superstitions, and sometimes proof like video and pictures but that eventually ended up as hoaxes most times. They didn’t have the equipment we have today that can verify Supernatural presence without a doubt or equipment that detect latent power in Humans. Furthermore, people liked feeding into the fear that there might be something wandering on this planet other than themselves. Yet, ironically, Humans were, and some could say still are, really arrogant in terms of their chain of command in life. Even if there had been something out there, they would always deem themselves higher than anything else that came along. They’ve just been in charge for so long, it was unthinkable that anything greater could challenge that. And in a lot of ways, Humans were right. They have the capacity to think a lot bigger than they are and when they band together, they can pull off some of the most incredible spectacles. But Humans are also very prideful creatures which prevent them from reaching their full potential.

Or so it’s been hypothesized. After all, they did fight with each other over territory and stupid shit like that impeding their own progress.

In a lot of ways, the Supernaturals should have expected it. But one day, there they were. Tired of hiding, tired of their cultures and beliefs being ridiculed and turned into insulting myths, they just emerged. As I remember every account in the history books have put it, it was like an invasion. However, no one could tell who was put on the planet first. Humans thought they had the right to the world because they’ve been the ones to dominate it. Supernaturals felt they’ve also been there just as long but were forced into hiding because of the discrimination and hatred Humans fueled into their stories turned them into hideous things. Monsters, honestly. They would have been hated.

But everyone hated each other. There were clashes, skirmishes, wars. Cities were decimated because despite the Humans claiming to have dominated the world, they were still Humans. They bled easily, bruised easily, weren’t as psychically or physically gifted like Supernaturals were known; enhanced strength, telekinesis, flight, shapeshifting—as you can imagine, it really tipped the scales in the Supernatural’s favor.

But one day, there was a point where Humans were able to somehow turn it around. If you ask anyone their opinion, there are many guesses as to what happened. Some say that at a certain point, to save themselves, Humans just evolved. In high stress situations or faced with extinction, it awoken something in Humans that allowed them to push back. Others say a miracle took place bestowed upon whatever God they worshipped that saw the Humans suffering and decided to help. And if that were the case, whatever God touched them never fucking appeared again. Kind of ridiculous if you ask me—”

“Dot,” Dodger cut in, steering Dot back into the story. He turned to Armand and explained, “Religion is a touchy subject. Every case she’s had at the Agency concerning the religiously imbalanced turned everything upside down and inside out. She’s never had a good experience dealing with them.”

“Don’t forget they are often the most judgmental and preachy assholes to ever deal with. Sorry.” She cleared her throat, finding her stride again. “Anyway, whatever had happened imbued the Humans with the strength to fight evenly with the Supernaturals. The powers that Supernaturals exhibited were suddenly shared with Humans. If a Vampire had super strength, so did Herbert the Human. If this Werewolf can run very fast, so can Susan the Human. It was both a good thing and a bad thing; that meant Humans wouldn’t be extinct but it also meant it fueled their idea that they were the true inheritors of the World. I mean, what else could convince them if not that moment that they evolved or were God-touched on the butt or whatever.

The fights and wars escalated and this happened all over the World. Human and Supernatural homes and cities and lands were absolutely fucking wrecked. Civilians that didn’t have supernatural abilities, and that accounted for Supernaturals and Humans alike, were housed in safe zones; it was about the only truce Supernaturals and Humans honored. People or Beings who couldn’t fight back to defend themselves should be given protection was the one thing they agreed upon, it was a fucking miracle. Now that I think about it, it might have to have been who was in power back then, honestly.”

“That sounds so terrible,” Armand said. He looked like he was about to cry. Dot was starting to regret telling the story. “everyone really hated each other.”

“Well, I mean, it sort of gets better.” Dot pointed out, “I’m not done yet. I promise the superheroes are coming in.”

Armand’s eyes brightened, “Oh yes! Superheroes! What are they?”

Dot laughed, “Now hold on. Before they came along, we need to get to the part about the aliens.”

Armand looked confused for a second before he finally asked, “What is the aliens?”

Dot and Dodger exchanged glances. Dot seemed worried and Dodger just looked perplexed. The things Armand did and did not know were astounding sometimes. It never failed to throw them for a loop when he asked.

“You don’t know what aliens are?” Dodger asked. Before Armand could reply, he explained, “Extraterrestrial life. Or, a person who is not a national of the country they are living in.”

“Or a movie franchise,” Dot input.

“What is extraterr—”

“Something that did not originate of this earth.” Dodger quickly explained. “Aliens come from outer space. Outer space is the big thing above our heads past the sky with many stars and planets.”

Dot laughed, smacking Dodger on the arm playfully. “I’m sure he knew what outer space was.”

“I, for one, am not quite sure, love.”

Armand replied, “I know! I know now.”

Dot gestured, pulling attention back to her so she could continue with the history of their planet that apparently Armand might need another run through with. She hoped she hadn’t lost him somewhere along all that explaining.

“The aliens. Okay, with the Humans and Supernaturals fighting each other, it seemed like nothing could have been able to stop this on-going war that would surely have pulled us into it years down the road. But we were either very lucky or unlucky because Aliens appeared out of nowhere and blasted all of our collective asses.

The sorry thing about that was the Aliens waltzed into a war that they weren’t even concerned with. They were running away from their own stupid shit. Apparently, history reports from an Alien POW had revealed they were on the run from a fleet from another freaking dimension. It shocked everyone to the core hearing about different dimensions and seeing Aliens that the war against Humans and Supernaturals seemed so… petty, now.

In the meantime, Aliens killed without discrimination. Remember the safe zones that both sides had agreed were untouchable? Aliens struck there first. Humans and Supernaturals alike were being targeted and even dragged into a war that wasn’t theirs. An even larger war on a scale that no one could fathom. We eventually figured out why we were being hit so hard. Aliens had the technology to brainwash their prisoners to use themselves as canon fodder so they’d lessen their own causalities and since the World was ripe with many shields, Humans and Supernaturals found out really fast it didn’t matter what they were. As far as the Aliens were concerned, they were the same.

I remember reading that it was the point where Humans and Supernaturals banded together to fight a common enemy to save themselves. By then, about one-third of the population had been wiped out.”

“To put it into perspective,” Dodger interrupted, “That’s two billion people. Total, our population including the Supernatural was about seven billion. Our history’s worst genocide before the Alien invasion is about six million. Doesn’t even come close to the damage of almost wiping us off collectively as a species and without a certain intervention, we would have been wiped out without a doubt.”

Armand’s brows were furrowed as he tried to imagine what two billion people looked like. The numbers were huge, he understood that much at least. “What is this certain intervention?”

Dot continued with a smile that stretched widely. This was a subject she knew all about as it fascinated her. “This is where the superheroes come in. In this other dimension, people with incredible gifted abilities who use them for good and justice were fighting the Alien race on the other side. Our planet didn’t know at the time and assumed the Aliens were just fighting other bad, stupid aliens. But that wasn’t the case. This Alien race who were crystalline and spindly were called the Dovirs. They had been trying to take over another earth-like planet coincidentally… named Earth-616 but bit off more than they could chew and were chased off. That didn’t mean they were retreating. They were desperate as it had been explained to us. In the midst of this chase, they ripped a tear into another dimension to cheat and bolster their numbers—which they accomplished coming here—to one day go back and try taking over once more.

If my memory serves correctly, and it always does, we’re Earth-6969. Which, by the way, we came away as the winner for coolest planet name. The representatives from Earth-616 landed here and explained it for us. It’s all over history books and by now is common knowledge.

In a lot of ways, Earth-616 is like our planet; same geographical lands and climate. We even have the same cities give or take a couple of small towns that differ between us. Oh yeah, and they weren’t in the throes of war waged in the name of discrimination but for the most part, yeah. We were pretty similar. Granted, they were more advanced in terms of technology but with the appearance of the Dovirs and our access to their technology, we’ve bolstered our own. Earth-616 even shares some of its technological advances with us which was pretty cool of them.

But comparing the two worlds, the Human races are the same, the Supernatural races are the same, we were just lacking our own Superheroes. And Armand, that means they are a band of people that come together despite their differences to make the place they live a better environment for everyone.”

Armand smiled, finally understanding. “So, they’re really important.”

“I’d say that they were. I know there are people who don’t share the same sentiment. It’s stupid and surprises me that this is coming from both sides.” Dot took a deep breath before she went down that road. It was clear to anybody listening that this was a passionate subject for her.

“I’d say we’re getting close to the ideal of living together in harmony, slowly. That’s why organizations like the Agency and what we do popped up. The Dovirs made us realize that we were entirely unequipped to handle an outside invasion. At the same time, we can’t keep fighting each other.

Taking a page out of 616’s example, their Superheroes and Supernaturals and Humans live together in a way that we’re trying to pull together nowadays. I’m not saying their side is perfect; if you pay attention to them, you’d see they just as well have their own issues with discrimination and blatant racism. Their government can be corrupt just as any political power, but we’re all trying to fight that and have been for a long time.

If it’s going to end in our lifetime remains to be seen, but I’d like to think we’re closer than five, ten years ago. It took a long ass time for our present to happen. I mean, the effects of that war are still very present today; tensions between the Humans and Supernaturals are still tense in some situations but for the most part, we’re getting there.

Plus, there’s still that nasty tear between our dimensions that now connect us to Earth-616. Isn’t it cool we’re neighbors?”

Armand was silent for a very long time, his expression reflecting a thoughtful gaze. Dot wondered if she had lost him along the way somewhere. She winced, glancing over at Dodger, “I might have gotten a little preachy at the end, there.”

Dodger shook his head, “Nonsense, I think you’ve pulled together a very beautiful summarization of our history. There wasn’t anything in what you said I disagreed with.”

Smiling, Dot gave Dodger’s hand an affectionate pat before Armand finally spoke which took them both by surprise as he asked, “How do we visit Earth-616? Do we have a very long ladder we climb to get there?”

Dot remained in a stupor for another second before laughing almost in disbelief, “Oh, no, honey. Haha, that’s where the Sanctum Sanctorum comes into play.” She further explained as soon as she saw the confusion in Armand’s features, “There’s a Sorcerer who lives down in New York that bridges the connection between our two worlds otherwise it’d be dangerous keeping that tear unsupervised. It’s complicated. Something about not having our own guardian. From what I know, he spends his time between the two worlds; we’re sort of like his vacation house.”

Then it clicked. Armand’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ as his eyes rounded in unison. “That’s why we’re going to get sued!”

“We’re not going to get sued.” Dodger argued.

Dot turned her head to face Dodger, almost jumping when she came face to face with a terrifying red expression. It took her a moment to realize he had pulled something out of a grocery bag and put it on his face.

“Take off that mask,” she scolded before adding, “that is a mask, right?”

“Ah! My Halloween costume!” Armand exclaimed, taking the mask from Dodger’s hands. “Dodger explained in the store why there were so many skeletons and witches on display. Hellowoon.”

“…Why would you think that was my face?” Dodger asked but went unheard as Armand continued.

“You’re supposed to dress as something scary, so I thought this was scary.” The ghost lifted his pale hand up to cover his impressive face with the unimpressive red mask. It had a long nose and angry eyebrows, its mouth furled down in the snarliest of snarls. Dot eyed it wearily.

“That’s great, honey. But you don’t have to be scary if you don’t want to, you can be anything you want. Also, did you say Hellowoon?”

“That’s not what it’s called?” he asked, pulling the mask to one side. He peered out with an amethyst hued eye expectant of Dot to correct him. But she didn’t have the heart.

“Well, it’s official. Happy Hellowoon, everyone!”

“I’m serious, did you really think that was my face?”

“Dodge, I swear to god. Any god.”

There was ring from the front which caught Dot, Dodger, and Armand’s attention. Their heads turned towards where the receptionist desk area sat before they looked at each other again.

“Do we have a literal doorbell?” Dot asked.

“Mm, I think there was a little “ring for service” bell somewhere on the desk. Armand was ringing it incessantly earlier.” Dodger replied.

“I had to make sure it would ring the next time, too.” Armand whispered.

“I’m not sure what that means.”

“What do we do?” Dot asked Dodger lowering her voice to a conspiring whisper. “It can’t be a client, right? You just printed the cards out today.”

“You might have, but I asked around and found out where you relocated. In any case, I let myself in. I hope that’s okay.” The new voice spoke with an authority that told anyone listening that he had every right to be there. It didn’t fail snapping their attention to the doorframe where a tall man stood as if he belonged there clad in a red cape that seemed to have a mind of its own. It moved where there was no wind and occasionally, the man would brush back the flap of the collar out of his face. The breakroom never had a more important guest. In all of her life, Dot never expected to come face to face with anyone as extraordinary or significant as Doctor Stephen Strange.

Dodger leaned in, whispering, “On second thought, we might be getting sued after all.”

“That wasn’t quite the idea I had in mind.” Stephen smiled. It looked like he was confronting a group of guilty children. Well, two guilty children. The third was quite obviously unusual. A flicker of recognition sparked in Stephen Strange’s gray gaze before it landed on Dot. “I was hoping you could take on a case for me.”

Dot swallowed dryly and she gripped the sides of her shirt, then ran her palm down the side of her leggings. She was nervous and it wasn’t coming from Stephen. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Stephen Strange, THE Stephen Strange, visiting the planet just to enlist her services? From what she could remember, she didn’t know how often he visited 6969, but it couldn’t have been that often, right? He had his own responsibilities on his own planet, didn’t he?

“O-Of course,” she put cautiously. She couldn’t help the stutter in her voice mainly because she had never expected in her lifetime to ever run into a Superhero from 616. An encounter was supposed to be rare. Even if their planets were connected by the rupture the Dovirs were responsible for, that didn’t mean the two planets could interfere with one another unless absolutely dire. Unless, that had changed? “What could we do for you, Doctor Strange?”

There was a brief moment when it looked like Stephen Strange looked in approval at being recognized. He all but purred the next statement, “Good, so we know of each other.”

“Y-You know me?”

“Dot Dreadful and Dodger Ainsworth Mac Alister of the private eye institution, Supernatural Investigations. Previously employed by the government sanctioned organization known as The Agency, real creative name, hm? You guys obviously have the superior one.”

Dot laughed nervously.

“You two were employed by The Agency for ten years, partnered for five because you, Ms. Dot, weren’t compatible with anyone who didn’t overload your empath abilities and Mr. Dodger stayed at entry level because he just liked doing the paperwork.”

Dot and Armand looked at Dodger who shrugged. Doctor Strange continued.

“You two quit a year ago and partnered to create your own business citing irreconcilable differences for your departure with the Agency to mask the fact you two were really unhappy there but it was an open secret considering how much Dot was known to push the cases deemed too “unimportant” by The Agency to favor the ones with more publicity to shed the project in a better light. In reality, you understood the corruption taking place once the previous Chief was replaced with Aldric, the mayor-elected official with a discrimination against Supernaturals. Another reason included being tired of being tied up by bureaucracy and wanted to make a genuine difference. Starting yesterday, you relocated to this site after operating out of your home for the last year. I hope I didn’t miss anything.”

“We hired a ghost as a receptionist.” Dodger pointed out. Stephen’s gaze trailed from Dot, then to Dodger, and last to Armand. “His name is Armand.”

“Yes, of course. That’s how he fits in.”

“And this is my Hellowoon costume,” Armand added, lifting the thing to his face. “It’s spooky, isn’t it?”

Stephen pointed, almost doing a double-take. He seemed genuinely taken aback by the outburst but covered it up as soon as the emotion flickered across his face. “Did he just say Hellowoon?”

By this time, Dot stepped up to Stephen, floored by how he knew so much. And it seemed everyone she was meeting lately simply towered over her. She extended an arm out towards the main office space.

“Why don’t you tell us the details of this case, Doctor?”

Stephen glanced down at Dot, giving her a charming smile that Dot could sworn was her imagination. Only in her dreams could someone this amazing exist, right? She had many fantasies about meeting any of the Supers in 616 but to actually be meeting one right now? …Maybe reality didn’t suck for once.

She led the Doctor to a random desk hoping it was to his taste. Maybe she should have paid more attention to the furniture. Once seated, she took out a legal pad and grabbed a pen. She had no idea where the invoices were but it was a good thing Dodger had her back. He grabbed an invoice while Dot recorded the details for any pertinent information.

Doctor Strange had the presence even while sitting to intimidate her. He seemed so regal and she could feel the pen feel warm in her hand. It took a while to realize the warmness was coming from her own hand. She just seemed so flustered! She hoped she looked composed on the outside at least.

“This peculiar case is located in the small town of Whitecrest. I’m sure you know it.”

Dot nodded, getting down to business. She ducked her head and wrote down Whitecrest as she spoke, “I know it. It looks like a little village from a medieval fantasy. Has a tavern and inn, even a functioning blacksmith. Everyone likes to ride horses to get around. It shouldn’t be too far from Ashbourne.”

Armand, seated across from Dodger who was copying the information for the Invoice asked, “Is Whitecrest that different?”

Stephen smiled, approval glinting in his eye. “After the Great War, as your planet calls it, a lot of towns had trouble rebuilding. Or more correctly, the people of states and towns all over had trouble deciding how they wanted to rebuild. Some had the finances to support their ambitious renovations while other towns like Whitecrest ended up looking like a piece of the past.”

“Way past,” Dot input with a smile, looking at Stephen. It was amazing how much of their history he bothered to learn. “Towns like Whitecrest have a lot of problems. It has nothing to do with the people most times. Ah, Doctor, what would you like for us to do while we’re there?”

“I’ll be honest,” Stephen suddenly said in a serious tone. His face took on a pensive expression and he seemed hesitant on admitting something. Up close, Dot could see that there was a gathering of wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and with the addition of the white at his temples made him seem a little older than he appeared just a few minutes ago. Whatever he wanted to say weighed heavily on his mind for a while before he finally continued, “I don’t usually put off my tasks like this but I don’t trust going to The Agency to carry out what I’m about to ask you. I can’t do it myself as I’m needed back home, in fact, as soon as I’m done here, I’ll be heading back to my New York.”

“You’ve traveled a long way to see us,” Dot encouraged. “Whatever you have to ask, I promise we’ll do our best to carry it out.”

Stephen looked up giving Dot a little jolt as their gaze connected. He still looked grave and serious. “I don’t like passing the tasks I can do myself onto anyone else, especially if I don’t know them. But I’m taking a chance on your business.” He paused and his next statement lightened up his features, “What can I say, I have a soft spot for it.”

Dot tried her best to quell the blush that was threatening to rise to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and took her legal pad to fan herself, “Ah, haha.”

“The reason we don’t trust The Agency are possibly the same as yours,” Dodger put quite bravely. Dot was often surprised by the way he spoke as if he knew everything. By the way Stephen nodded convinced Dot that Dodger probably did know everything. Dodger continued, “Then all we have to do is prove that we’re not The Agency. We can complete this job. I’m sure of it.”

Coming from any other man, it may have sounded like boasting and Stephen said as much. “But there’s something in your tone that could reassure me that’s the case,” he admitted with a slight chuckle. “It reminds me of someone else I know. A little egocentric, likes his name on tacky buildings that he owns.”

“That’s not just a little.” Dodger said.

Stephen’s grin widened a little, “And much like that egotistical man, I like you.” Stephen took a glance at his watch and realizing he was pressed for time, decided to wrap it up. “When you get to Whitecrest, there’s a person I want you to see. The name I was given was Fitzsimmons. Word is that he hangs around the tavern or the inn.”

“We talk to him?” Dot asked, writing down the name.

“I’d like if you could. I wasn’t given much information myself but to get to me, it must have been significant. I’ll find out what that is as soon as I get back and you can report to me what that was.”

“Is this case was giving to you and is so significant, would it be dangerous?” Dodger asked. Dot was thinking it but she wasn’t sure she could pose the question without insulting Stephen. She cautiously looked up, thankful for Dodger who always said what was on his mind.

“It could very well be dangerous. But I had been digging around and came upon the conclusion that I could pass the task on if I didn’t have time for it. That is what I’m doing as much as I would like to solve this myself. I was told The Agency had the equipment handled to deal with almost anything but I don’t exactly approve of the publicity my name brings in this world.”

“We have the same equipment The Agency has,” Dot interjected quite confident herself. “so you don’t have to worry there. And we have no problem keeping your name out of anything, anywhere. Even out of our mouths. No one say Doctor Strange’s name.” Dot put a hand over her mouth then mumbled, “Starting now.”

“Can we call him Doctor Cape?” Armand asked.

“That’s insulting,” Dodger said.

“We have to call him something, right?”

Stephen surprised them by laughing. “That’s alright. I meant in newspapers or in any media where the public can get to it. I’m sorry to ask as I’m sure the exposure could help your company—”

“No no no! Don’t worry about that!” Dot exclaimed, wide-eyed. She had almost reached across the table to take his hands but restrained herself and her emotional self by sitting back in her chair and gripping her pen with both hands, longways. “That isn’t why we’re here. We really want to make a difference, doesn’t matter if our names are attached or not. If the people of Whitecrest can benefit from being helped by us or even Doctor Stephen Strange, it’s the outcome that’s important.”

“Besides, if we’re good at our job, our name will get out there somehow.” Dodger added.

Dot was nodding in agreement. Stephen chuckled again, quite entertained by this little group. If it wasn’t the strange ghost that didn’t know how to say Halloween, it was the blunt Dodger and the compassionate leader of the group, Dot, that made up Stephen’s mind.

“Alright then, I’ll entrust this task to you.” he deemed. Dot was filling out the last-minute details such as the date and time as Stephen stood up. For the first time, he took a good look around. “It’s just the three of you, right?”

“Yeah,” Dot said, looking up and following Stephen’s gaze. “it’s big, huh?”

Stephen sent her a wink that sent Dot’s tummy flipping. “I think it’s about the right size. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take my leave. Do you mind if I meet you here the day after tomorrow, around the same time?”

“Oh, definitely!” Dot smiled. “So, the fourth at around seven-thirty.”

“It’s a date.”

Dot blinked, feeling herself flush this time. Before she had a chance to reflect on it, Doctor Strange opened with a strange gesture with a swing of his hand and an orange portal flickered to life in the middle of their office. From the other side, she could barely make out something that looked like an office and dark wood.

“From one Sanctum to another,” Stephen mused. “Good luck.” He finished before stepping into the portal. It disappeared as soon as his cape had cleared.

Dot, Dodger, and Armand were left gaping.

“Whoooooa! I can’t believe it!” Dot shrieked, throwing her hands up. Legal pad going with them.

“Fascinating. I wonder how he did that,” Dodger sounded just as thoughtful as Stephen had, moving around the spot where the portal had been.

Armand was the only one who wasn’t saying anything. Instead, he was looking at his mask. Dot, noticing, frowned and asked, “What’s wrong, love?”

“I wonder if it’s too late to change my costume.”

[gosecretscribbles]

Brothers

This is a Mob Psycho 100 fanfic.  It’s part of Attic AU, an AU of phantomrose96's AU "A Breach of Trust". (Go read it, it's awesome.) In the Attic AU, Mob was kidnapped by the spirit Mogami. Reigen tried to stop Mogami but was captured, too. After a year, Reigen finally exorcised him and rescued Mob.

This part happens after Mob and Reigen have escaped, and they're still adjusting to normalcy. Ritsu feels a bit jealous that Reigen's spending time with his brother. He tries to spend time with Mob and struggles with feeling selfish and jealous. Mob finally gets him to talk about it.

Ritsu heard something break, followed by a small cry.  He jumped up from the couch and hurried down the hall.

Mob was standing in the middle of his old – no, his real bedroom, slightly crouched and panicked-looking.  Weird light fizzed and glittered sharply in the air around him.  Reigen was standing in front of Mob, talking with his usual dry assurance.

“– could've gone better,” Reigen said, not even glancing at the shattered cup at their feet.  “Just breathe, kid.  You got this.”

Ritsu watched from the doorway.  He'd never actually seen Mob's barrier, but he could guess that that was what made the bubble of nasty light around his brother.  Reigen couched Mob through controlling his breathing and focusing on using his powers for something small, like putting the cup back together.  After a minute, the barrier sizzled away.

Mob picked up the cup.  “I've never broken anything with the barrier,” he said shakily.  “Is it – getting stronger?”

“Probably.” Reigen shrugged.  “But so're you.  You've already broken the hypnosis.  You've kept your barrier shut off for, what, like ten hours now?”

Mob nodded, still looking at the cup.

“Aw, c'mon.”  Reigen planted a hand on Mob's head and ruffled his hair. “I keep tellin' you, kid, focus on the positive.  You're way stronger than you think you are.”

Ritsu's gut tightened, and before he knew it he was stepping into the room. “Hi, Nii-san.”

Mob looked up and smiled.  “Ritsu.  Sorry, did we disturb you?”

“No, no...”  Ritsu noticed Reigen had taken his hand from Mob's head, but he was still standing pretty close.  Like they were family or something.  “Let's go to the corner store,” he said suddenly.

Mob tensed.  “I – but just now, the barrier –”

“Just go already.”  Reigen gave Mob a gentle push.  “We've been practicing forever.  You could use the break.  And I could use the time to satisfy some customers.”  Reigen had opened an online consulting service to build up his savings again.  It saved travel and office expenses, and it was much safer than working in person, especially while his health still wasn't back to normal.  “Hurry up already, I've got a clientele base to build.”

Mob still looked anxious.  “I don't –”

“Just for a few minutes?” Ritsu asked, stepping forward.  “Look – there's no barrier around you at all.  Plus, we could even get milk...”

Five minutes later, Ritsu and Mob were walking out the door.  Mob had on a heavy sweater – he was still pretty thin from his diet of soup, and he got chills easily.  

“They sell flavored milk at the store now,” Ritsu said, as they started to walk.  “I know you like regular milk, but they have strawberry and chocolate milk now, too.  I guess Yamada-san finally caved to peer pressure.  I mean the vending machines at school have had flavored milk for ages.  I've never actually tried it, though.  I always bring a lunch from home...”

Mob looked around as Ritsu talked.  Anything that moved, anything that was brightly colored, the people, the cars, even a plane overhead – Mob acted like he was seeing it for the first time.  No, more like he was reunited with them, like a family he was greeting with his eyes. He glanced at Ritsu, too, but never for very long.  

Ritsu kept talking, but his stomach was hurting a little.  First Reigen. Now everything else.  After five years it was like he still didn't have his brother back.

No, no, that's stupid.  And it's not fair to Nii-san.  Focus on what Nii-san needs, don't be selfish.

They reached the store.  Mob, predictably, asked for a quart of regular milk.  Ritsu didn't feel much like drinking, but for the sake of politeness he got a soda.  A popular brand – he didn't actually look at the name.  He paid for their purchases, grateful that Yamada-san was so engrossed in her novels that she didn't ask Mob awkward questions.

On the way back, Ritsu noticed that Mob was starting to look a bit flushed.  His eyes were still bright, like he was trying to drink it all in, but he was getting overwhelmed with stimulation.  

“Maybe we could sit for a minute,” Ritsu suggested.  

Mob made a small noise of agreement.

So Ritsu guided them to a small grassy lawn that bordered a local business building.  It was supposed to be a lunch space, he guessed, because there were a few concrete tables and a bench at the edge of the lawn, and a fancy-looking fountain in the middle.  

They took the bench and opened their drinks, watching the passers-by. Ritsu noticed his brother sat a little away from him.  He knew Mob was probably just worried about the barrier, but it stung a little. He tried to ignore it.  

“Nice day for it,” Ritsu said instead, glancing at Mob.  

Mob was looking up into the branches of a nearby tree, his quart of milk resting forgotten on his knee.

“Nii-san?”

“Yes.”  Mob turned.

The look in his eyes made Ritsu flinch.  “What's wrong?” he asked.  “If something's bothering you, you can talk to me.”

Mob smiled slightly.  “I know, Otouto.  You always tell me that.”

“Well, it's still true.  You can talk to me about anything.”

Mob stayed quiet, still looking at Ritsu.  

“What?” he gave a chuckle.  “Do I have something on my face?”

“No.  I'm just happy that I get to look at you.”

Ritsu's eyes stung.  He swallowed.  

“I admire you,” Mob continued.  “You're so smart, Ritsu.  Mom and Dad told me.  Are you going to run for President of the Student Council next year?  I think you could do it, Ritsu.”

“I-I don't know.”  He'd lied to his parents about joining so he could search for Mob after school.  “I might just run for a lower office.  Work up to it.”

Mob nodded.  “You're always confident and self-controlled.  I think you'd be amazing at whatever office you chose.  If I get to go back to school, I'd support you.”

“'If'?” Ritsu repeated.  He realized they'd never actually talked about Mob going to back to school.  It seemed ludicrous, somehow, to think that after five years of loss things could just – snap back to normal.  

Mob was still looking at him, his dark eyes meeting Ritsu's. “Otouto...do you think you could help me with my studies?  I was only average at school, and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Teach me, too,” Ritsu blurted.

Mob blinked.  “Eh?”

Ritsu thrust out his hand.  Nine perfect spheres of water rose out of the fountain, clear and smooth as glass.  They began to spin, first in place, then orbiting the fountain, until finally they burst apart into a mist so fine that a rainbow appeared in the air, shimmering like a silk scarf.

Mob leaned forward in awe.  “Ritsu!  That was you?”

“My powers awakened a while ago,” Ritsu said, lightly rubbing his wrist.  “I met this guy from another school – he's psychic, too. He was sort of teaching me, but mostly I think he just hung around to mess with me.  Anyway, Nii-san, could you teach me how to use them like you?”

Mob was smiling – a small smile, but the biggest one Ritsu had seen yet.  “Ritsu, you're incredible!  Do you mean you learned the water trick on your own?”

Ritsu grinned.  “Sort of.”

Mob stood up.  “Let's ask Reigen if he'll teach you, too!”

The mention of Reigen made him stiffen.  Ritsu opened his mouth to protest – then caught himself.  Reigen was the one who had rescued Mob, and the only one who had helped him with the barrier.  Ritsu was being selfish wanting to keep him away from Mob.  If it meant spending time with his brother, Ritsu could handle sharing him with Reigen.  

He stood up.  “Alright, let's go back.”  

“Ritsu...?”

He'd had already gone a few steps.  When he turned back, Mob hadn't followed.  “C'mon, don't you want to ask Reigen for lessons?”

Mob looked concerned.  “Ritsu, what's wrong?”

Aside from the fact that I'm being completely selfish, jealous, and unreasonable?

He hesitated too long.  Mob reached out very slowly and took the corner of Ritsu's sleeve between two fingers.  Ritsu looked down in shock.  Mob didn't touching because he was always afraid the barrier would hurt them.  

“You can talk to me,” Mob said.

“I just really missed you,” Ritsu said quietly.  His throat was tight.  “I don't really know you anymore.  Reigen does.  But I don't.”

Mob was silent for a moment.  “Ritsu...do you remember how to play Ichi?”

“What?”

“Ichi,” Mob repeated, smiling.  “The card game.  From when you were little.  Sometimes, when I won several games in a row, you teased me and said I was using my powers to cheat.”

Ritsu half-smiled.  “I remember.”

“Let's play it again.  Just us.”

“Really?”

Agh, I sound like a little kid, he thought.  But at the moment he didn't much care.

Mob nodded.  “ I forgot most of the rules, though.”

“I can teach you,” Ritsu said, smiling.

Mob smiled back.  “I know, Ritsu.  Let's go home.”

[stupidfanfics]

Till Death Do Us Part: A Barry Allen Fan Fiction

Chapter 4: Begin Again

Word Count: 3,710

College was like a five-year vacation for me. It really gave me the chance to find out who I really was and start what I thought would soon be the majority of my life.

But, if there was one thing I could never get off my mind, it was how I had left my life in Central City.

Of my four years staying in Seattle, I never visited my mom, she only came to visit me. Which, in my defense, makes sense. I had no one to talk to in Central City, but she had friends in Seattle. Anyways, even after getting my purple hair, and a few tattoos here and there, there was still some kind of guilt that was hidden behind my rebellious lifestyle.

The guilt of leaving Barry Allen in my wake.

And if I wasn’t such an anxious person, I would have hopped on a plane and fixed things with him as soon as I could. So, for about five years (I took a year off to travel), I continually battled with my conscience on whether or not I should fix my old life.

Then the coincidence occurred...

It was another gloomy day in Seattle and I was walking to Pike Place to pick up my morning coffee and muffin. The heels of my black knee-high boots hit the concrete at a rather quick pace, as I rushed over to a small cafe before work. My skirt wasn't helping me walk any faster either, my legs felt like they were slightly bonded together, shortening my strides. I continued walking as fast as I could, clutching my purse as I made my way down the streets. Then my phone began to ring, causing me to stop in my tracks. No one ever called me, at least not this early in the morning. I looked at my phone screen staring at the unknown number, deciding to accept the call after two more rings.

“Hello?” I asked, nervousness in my tone.

“Hello, is this Miss Monica Bell?”

“Um, yes?” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“Miss Bell, this is Dr. Harrison Wells from S.T.A.R. Labs…” I didn’t answer so he continued, “Well, somebody sent me your resume, and I was reading over it yesterday and I’d really like to offer you a position here.”

“A-at S.T.A.R. Labs?” I dumbly questioned.

“Yes, I know it’s not your main field of study but we really need a Biologist on the team.”

“Biologist? For what?”

“Well, as you may know, the Particle Accelerator will be started in a week and we need some biologist to study any effects it has on the environment. Or anything living for that matter.”

I bit my lip, the position sounded great, I had always dreamed of working at S.T.A.R. Labs. But, was I really ready to go back to Central City?

“Ms. Bell? Monica?” Dr. Wells’ voice broke me from my thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Will you accept the position?”

To hell with it, I thought, I live for taking risks.

“I will, when do I start?”

Within three days, I packed up my stuff, left my shared apartment, and moved back to the place I called home for seven years. Stepping out of the airport, a burst of nostalgia coursed through my veins. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the city’s air. I was home, I was where I belonged.

“Monica!” my mom shouted running towards me, engulfing in a huge hug once she was close enough.

“Mom.” I smiled back. “So you’re here for good now?”

“Yes, Mom, I thought we already covered this.”

“Right. What happened to those lilac locks of yours?”

I rolled my eyes, “Well, purple hair didn’t seem very appropriate for a job at S.T.A.R. Labs- speaking of which, you still need to explain why exactly you sent in my resume! Anyways, I set up an emergency hair appointment and got it dyed back to a natural color.”

“Well, it still looks great. Ready to head home?” she asked. I nodded my head, eager to crawl into bed and sleep.

The next morning I woke up pretty late, seeing that I didn’t start work for another two or three days. So, after straightening my hair and throwing on a black dress, some light makeup, and my glasses, I began my walk to the best coffee shop on this planet. CC Jitters. Walking down the streets of Central City, I couldn’t help but smile. Central City has always had that modern-suburbs feel to it which was oddly comforting. Opening the familiar glass doors, the aroma of coffee beans and steamed milk filled my nostrils. I walked up to the counter, heels clanking loudly on the floor.

Narrator’s POV

Iris and Barry were sitting in Jitters Wednesday afternoon during Iris’ lunch break. Barry was rambling on and on about the Particle Accelerator that was set to go off in about two days. Iris’ was trying to act interested, but really she was just unconvincingly nodding her heading letting out a “Mhhm” every few sentences.

“I mean imagine all of the advances in science they could discover. A cure for cancer, new elements, the ability t-” Barry cut himself off, turning his head to face the source of the loud clicking behind him. A tall, blonde woman wearing a black dress and glasses walked into the coffee shop, catching the eyes of every customer and employee.

“Hi, one bulletproof coffee,” she chirped to the cashier.

“Is that…” Barry’s words dragged out, so Iris finished his sentence for him. “...Monica?” Barry and Iris looked into each other’s eyes, sharing the pure emotion of shock. The possibly familiar face of Monica Lucille Bell stepped off to the side to wait for her order.

“What is she doing here, wasn’t she supposed to stay in Seattle?” Iris mumbled to Barry.

“How do expect me to know? I haven’t talked to her in five years!” Barry shouted back in a hushed tone.

Iris cocked her head to the side, “I don’t know, it just seems a little fishy that she shows up here the day after you come back from Starling.”

“Maybe she’s visiting her mom-” Barry suggested.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Iris stood up, pushing in her stool.

“No, no, no.” Barry breathed trying to get Iris to stop, but miserably failing. “Iris!” he shouted turning red.

Monica’s POV

I snapped my head around hearing a familiar name, my eyes landing on a dark-haired woman.

“Iris?” I sang, walking up to my childhood friend, engulfing her in a tight hug.

“Monica, I’ve missed you so much. How’s Seattle?” Iris asked me, as we stepped back to face each other. Unsure of how to approach the matter I just said the first thing that came to mind.

“Seattle was good.”

“Was?” Iris pressed on, doing exactly what I was hoping she wouldn’t.

“Yeah, um, I actually just moved back here yesterday.” Iris’ eyebrows stood up, a toothy grin growing on her face. Suddenly she grabbed my hand, pulling me to a table where a young man was sitting with his face tilted towards the ground.

“Ba-”

“Barry?” I whispered when he brought his face up, his eyes meeting mine. What four years did to him is still a mystery to me. I had never expected nerdy, awkward Barry Allen to grow into the twenty-something-year-old sitting in front of me. He waved his hand at me, giving subtle tight lip smile.

“As I was about to say,” Iris continued, “Barry, Monica’s moving back to Central City!” Barry’s eyebrows rose like Iris’ did minutes before, but not to show excitement.

“Oh, um, r-really? That’s great…”

“Yeah, I got a job offer at S.T.A.R. Labs. They need some biologists to do research after the Particle Accelerator goes off.” Barry and Iris raised their eyebrows in unison.

“You mean the S.T.A.R. Labs?” Iris asked.

“I wasn’t aware there was another one.” I chuckled and looked down at my phone screen. “Well, I should probably get going, I’m apartment hunting today. It was really nice catching up with you guys.” I gave an unconvincing smile then walked away, shaming myself for not thinking about the fact I’d probably be running into Barry a lot now that I moved back to Central City. You’re an idiot Monica, a real fucking idiot.

After spending two days of apartment hunting, I finally found a decent place to live until I was able to find a better place, like maybe a condo or a townhouse. I spent all of Friday unpacking and preparing for my first day at my new job. Yes, starting a new job on a Saturday is weird, but being offered a job like this, as a young biologist, was weird. So, I’ve just learned that weird is normal.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to work under the genius that is Doctor Harrison Wells. And now I was getting that chance of working with him and a small handful of scientists on S.T.A.R. Labs’ newest project, the Particle Accelerator. Unlike most girls my age, I’ve always been a science geek. I guess that’s what made Barry and I such great friends. Our love for science built such a strong bond between us. A bond that was now broken, and since I was back in Central City, I’d probably have to mend it.

After about an hour of rummaging through cardboard boxes, I finally picked out a ‘First Day of Work’ outfit.  

I settled on a button-up corduroy pencil skirt and a striped dark purple turtleneck, convincing myself I’d have more than enough time in the morning to pick out shoes. Boy, was I wrong. Being the so-called ‘Lazy Millennial’ I am, I hit snooze about five times before finally waking up with only forty-five minutes to get to S.T.A.R. Labs.

Realizing this, I quickly got out of bed, threw on some light makeup and tied my hair into a ponytail. Rushing out of the door, I grabbed a protein bar and my pristine, white Keds and sprinted to my car, almost forgetting to lock the door to my new apartment.

Somehow I made it to S.T.A.R. Labs at exactly nine o'clock. Pushing open the doors of the lobby, I rushed over to the receptionist.

“Um, hi, yeah I’m looking for Dr. Wells… I’m Mo-”

“Ms. Bell.”

I swivelled around to be met with the source of the somewhat familiar voice.

“It’s very nice to finally meet you in person.” I walked forward and went to shake his hand.

“I could say the same for you, Dr. Wells.” I smiled, trying my best to bury the geek inside of me deep into the dark place where it belongs.

“Well, now that the pleasantries are over with, I’ll take you on a tour and show you to your lab.”

After walking around S.T.A.R. Labs for about thirty minutes and grabbing some coffee, we finally reached a pretty large room with monitors, three computers, and other equipment deliberately placed.

“And this is where you’ll be working the next three days until the accelerator starts running. Then you can begin your research in your personal lab. Ah, and these are the three scientists you’ll be working with the majority of your time here,” Dr. Wells said, motioning hand toward a woman and two men staring at a computer screen. The woman nudged the two men causing all three of them to turn around and stare at me.

“Ms. Bell, meet Doctor Caitlin Snow, Ronnie Raymond, and Cisco Ramon. Guys, this is Monica Bell,” he said turning to face me, “Our new biologist.”

I smiled reaching out to shake the hand of the man dubbed Ronnie Raymond, then Caitlin Snow, and lastly Cisco Ramon who unexpectedly pulled my hand and embraced me in a tight hug.

“Sorry, I’m more of a hugger,” he chuckled, finally allowing me to breathe.

“Me too,” I giggled.

“Hey, I love your shirt,” I chirped scanning over the hands printed on his blue shirt.

“And I appreciate your pop culture knowledge.” He grinned.

“Really, because I prefer her taste in skirts,” Caitlin chimed in.

“Ditto!” I smiled back.

“Well, now that we’re all, somewhat, formally introduced, I’ll be taking Ms. Bell to her workspace,” Dr. Wells butted in, turning towards the hallway.

“It was nice meeting you all, really,” I blurted out, waving goodbye and running towards the direction of Dr. Wells.

“I just met the Caitlin Snow,” I blurted out laughing in amazement once we were far enough down the hallway. “Whoops, I’m sorry. That was so unprofessional,” I muttered.

Dr. Wells chuckled. “No, it’s fine. It’s good to be happy sometimes.”

“I don’t think I can agree with you on that Dr. Wells…” an odd, snobby voice retorted from behind me.

“Hartley, why would you say that?” Dr. Wells said turning around.

“Well, happiness keeps us from being productive,” he stated staring at me. “Who is she?”

“She is Monica Bell our new biologist. Monica this is Hartley Rathaway.”

I stuck my hand out, “It’s a pleasure to m-”

“I don’t shake hands with foolish biologists who run around in the forest wearing Keds,” he retaliated, an evil smirk spreading across his face. Suddenly, the lid popped off of my coffee cup that was now completely crushed and laying on the floor in a puddle of steamed milk and espresso. “Oo, be careful Dr. Wells, she’s a feisty one,” he laughed, turning around and leaving.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice that I-”

“No, it’s fine. That’s just Hartley’s way.”

The next two days I spent my time setting up my lab, but if I had any free time, I went to help Caitlin, Cisco, and Ronnie, whom I had grown very close with over the weekend.

“You two are adorable! Is it too late to get a wedding invite?” I joked as Caitlin and Ronnie longingly stared at each other across their desks.

“We’ll see if we can squeeze you on the list,” Ronnie chuckled, “But more importantly, how am I going to attach these valves together.”

“Oh, I can help!” I yelped, running over to his computer.

“But you’re a-”

“Biologist? Yeah, I’m very aware of that. But I was the mechanic of the family for my entire childhood so step aside,” I said cracking my knuckles. “Pish’ that’s a simple fix! Just mend it together with some steel and you’ll be good to go. I’ll be right back,” I said backing away.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To fix your problem.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“I’ll be fine Ron, check out these guns,” I giggled flexing my muscles.

“Yeah, still going with you,” he said standing up.

“Woah. This. Is. AWESOME!” I screamed when we walked into the pipeline.

“You sure you don’t need help with all that metal?” I shook my head at Ronnie’s question. “What, do you work out like twenty-four-seven or something?” I turned to face him, furrowing my eyebrows.

“How crazy do you think I am? I’m just a naturally strong damsel in distress.”

“Well, if you’re a damsel in distress, wouldn’t you need some help?”

“Yes, Ronald, why don’t you just go sit in the corner and watch?”

The few conversations like that were the reasons why losing Ronnie was so hard. I may not have known him as well as Caitlin or Cisco had, but he was one of those people who’s very easy to approach. He never deserved what happened to him.

None of us did.

Before I knew it, the night of the Particle Accelerator’s - well - accelerating had come, which also meant the next day, S.T.A.R. Labs would become all work and no play. But all I really needed to focus on was that night’s events and what I was going to wear.

Desperately pushing hangers aside, I searched for the perfect ensemble. I wouldn't be doing too much that night, so I could basically wear anything I wanted. Still, finding something to wear was definitely a challenge... Until-

“BINGO!” I yelled, pulling out an emerald green dress from my tiny closet.

Hair and makeup was a breeze, giving me plenty of time to make it to S.T.A.R. Labs before the ceremony. Walking into my kitchen I grabbed my phone, screen glowing from receiving a notification.

Iris: Barry and I will be at STAR Labs tonight! Hope we can find some time to catch up.

I smiled looking down at the text. I missed Iris. She was always such a sweet, genuine person who at the same time wasn’t afraid to voice her opinion. Twiddling my thumbs, I finally began typing.

Monica: Yay! I can’t wait to see you.

Great job Monica! Mental High Five! I thought to myself while nodding my head. Looking further up the screen I realised that I only had fifteen minutes to get to the ceremony and there was bound to be traffic, so I ran out the door like I had a few days ago.

“My name is Harrison Wells. Tonight, the future begins. The work my team and I will do here will change our understanding of physics. Will bring about advancements in power, advancements in medicine, and trust me that future will be here faster than you think.”

The applause began to come to a halt as Dr. Wells began his speech. After nodding and smiling for a while, I decided to scan the crowd for Iris and maybe Barry. Looking into the sea of people in front of me, I couldn’t help but feel - I don’t know - super. It was like thousands of people were looking up to me, like I had just made their lives a thousand times better. I loved that feeling. In Seattle, I had lost touch of that, and in that moment, I remembered just how much I missed it.

“...ica, MONICA!”

I snapped my head around feeling someone nudging at my side.

“Hey, it’s time to go inside and accelerate this accelerator,” Cisco said beaming.

“Ok Costco,” I joked walking past him.

“Hey! You don’t have the right to call me that yet. I don’t even have a nickname for you.” I turned around giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Awww, poor Crisco.” I giggled.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

I snorted as I walked off the stage, heading towards Dr. Wells to find out where he needed me.

“Ms. Bell, you can go home now. We’ll be expecting you here early tomorrow morning.”

I nodded my head vigorously. “Oh, I know. Umm, is it okay if I just stay here for a while? I just got dolled up and I’m really hoping I didn’t do it for nothing.”

“Whatever you need,” he said walking away. Quickly, I took off my heels and ran to the stairs. Gracefully, I made my way up to one of the many roofs of S.T.A.R. Labs, and as I stared at the glowing city before me, I smiled. I closed my eyes and breathed in the city air, the sound of cars and busses surrounding me.

“What happened to the Keds? Did little baby Monica play dress up in Mommy’s closet?” I heard a familiar, smug voice taunt from behind me.

“Hartley, you shouldn’t be here. You quit two days ago. This is private property,” I muttered, furrowing my eyebrows.

“Well neither should someone like you!” he yelled awkwardly running towards me and pushing me to the ground. “See, I can be feisty too.”

I stood up, straightening my dress. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, you know what I’m doing,” he whispered.

“Actually, I don’t,” I bluntly stated, “So why don't you tell me what’s going on here?!”

“I’m here to show you what you’re truly capable of,” he muttered. “Kryptonian.”

I cocked my head to the side, “How the hell am I a cryptogr-?” Before I could finish my question, I felt my toes leave the roof of S.T.A.R. Labs, leaving me quickly falling to my doom.

As the wind caused my hair to dance around, I looked down at the ground below me. So this is how I die, I thought to myself, a tight lip smile appearing on my face. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to think of any possible way to save myself. I could make my dress into a parachute, oh, or hook my heels onto-

Everything stopped.

The wind, the moving buildings, my hair.

I looked down, I was…

“Floating?” I murmured allowed in confusion.

“Not exactly Monica!” I heard Hartley yell from atop the roof, “Try pushing up.”

At first, I questioned him, but he seemed to know something. So, I pushed my heels up, causing me to move in the opposite direction than I was only a few mere seconds ago. My feet gently landed on the roof, a grin growing on my face.

“How did you know?” I asked, staring down Hartley.

“That coffee cup incident and my years of studying alien history. Guess that-”

“Wait, I’m an-”

“Alien, maybe. I prefer outsider,” he wickedly laughed. Suddenly, a surge of anger coursed through my veins and I sprinted forward, punching Hartley in the nose and knocked him out.

“Oh, my, I’m, gotta go…” I stammered running towards the Cortex. “Caitlin! Caitlin!” I yelled running through the halls. “Cait, there you are! You won’t believe what just-” I stopped talking when she turned around to face me. Her flushed cheeks stained with tears. “What, what’s wrong? Where are Ronnie and Cisco?”

She shook her head at me. “Something went wrong,” she whispered. “Ronnie’s in the Pipeline. Monica, what if he never comes back?!” she sobbed, causing me to jog over to her. I pulled her into a tight hug, unsure of what to say I rocked her back and forth as we waited for something to happen, some glimmer of hope.

Instead, we were met with a big bang.

Taglist:

@lexeeehhh

[curewhimsy]

I wrote a random funny thing to develop my OC’s comical quirks.

Joy was so bad at directions, she constantly got lost in her own house. Sometimes she ended up in Paris, France instead of her own bathroom!

Today, Joy was just looking for the refrigerator for her leftover lasagna. But somehow, she ended up finding the lost city of Atlantis instead!

"I have to tell someone about this!" Joy said, marveling the extraordinary sight. "But how do I get back?"

Joy suddenly realized she was surrounded by water, and therefore lost the ability to breathe it. Sort of like when a cartoon character walks off the edge of a cliff and and is able to still walk before they realize they're midair.

"Stupid cartoon logic..." Joy thought as she ran out of breath.

Joy magically woke up in her bed and realized she lost one life.

"I only have eight lives left! I better be careful!"

Joy stepped out of the comfy bed. Suddenly, Kuma fell from the ceiling and landed on Joy.

Joy disappeared and teleported back to her bed where she woke up again.

"Kuma, why did you do that? Now I only have seven lives left!" Joy snapped.

"Hey, I can't control where and when I fall from the ceiling." Kuma said.

"What are you even doing in my house?" Joy asked.

"I heard you had leftover lasagna."

------

Kuma led the way to school that day so that Joy wouldn't get lost again.

When they arrived at school, everything was completely and utterly normal. Cake was in the toilet, the palm trees were wearing lipstick, and Mr. Kerry was teaching his pet elephant to tap dance.

Everything was completely and utterly typical.

Vivi was bouncing off the walls just to make people laugh.

"Come on everyone! Laugh at me!" Vivi was tap dancing while eating a banana. She flung the peel to the ground and comically slipped over it, hitting her head on the concrete in the process.

Vivi enthusiastically looked up to see if anyone was laughing.

It turned out nobody was laughing. Not even a chuckle. In fact, some people were yawning.

But then, Shigure came in and slipped on the banana peel. He slid all over the basketball court and off a ramp. He flew fifty feet in the air, twirling, and landed on a cloud. A unicorn came by and farted a rainbow and Shigure slid down, and he landed right through the basketball hoop, and fell into a face full of pie.

Everyone around began to laugh!

"Aw, come on!" Vivi pouted. "I try so hard to make people laugh at me, but they laugh at Shigure instead?"

Shigure wasn't even trying to make anyone laugh. He was just very unfortunately clumsy. He walked away with his face red.

"Gee, I wish people could stop laughing at me..." Shigure said, embarrassed.

"I wish people could laugh at me more!" Vivi exclaimed. "Nobody ever laughs at me."

"Hey! Then maybe we should switch places then!" Shigure said. "We'll be each other for a day!"

"That's actually a really good idea!" Vivi said. She walked away and bumped into Joy.

"Hi Vivi." Joy said.

"Oh, I'm not Vivi today." Vivi said. "I'm Shigure."

"Okay." Joy said.

"What sort of weird antics are Vivi up to today?" Maia asked.

"I'm not Vivi! I'm Shigure!" Vivi said. Maia looked at her funny.

"To be or not to be?" Bonnie said theatrically.

"Oh, it's Bonnie." Maia said.

"Now, who is this Bonnie you speaketh of? I am the one and only Daphne!"

"Not Bonnie too..." Maia said.

Most days, Bonnie was Bonnie. But some days she was Daphne instead. When Bonnie was Daphne, she was posh and rather pretentious.

"I applaud you Joy. You're the only other normal person here." Maia said.

Joy was too busy thinking of talking fish sticks to respond.

"Oh well. So much for Joy being normal." Maia said, sighing.

------

"What are you doing, sis?" Stelle asked Lunette.

"I'm trying to summon a genie! Whahaha!" She cackled.

"Don't you need a lamp for that?" Stelle thought.

Lunette had a bubbling boiling cauldron of a mysterious mixture in front of her. She peeled the gum off the bottom of her shoe and dropped it into the cauldron. The mixture began to release steam and change color.

"Ah, yes. Now the only ingredient we still need are Rhona's tears." Lunette said broodingly.

"So we have to get Rhona to cry somehow." Stelle said.

"Don't worry, I created a special potion that can make anyone cry, even robots, probably." Lunette said.

"Like I said, Rhona isn't a robot..." Stelle said.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway, because this potion can even make rocks cry! So robot or not, Rhona's going to shed some tears."

Lunette walked away very mysteriously, her long black robe dragging the dusty floor around her.

"Why is my sister like this..." Stelle sighed.

------

In first period math class, everyone was busy viewing memes on their phone.

"When your mom puts broccoli in the spaghetti..." One meme said. Underneath the words, was a picture of disappointed guy.

"Haha, disappointed guy is so funny!" They said.

The meme in question was a snapshot of Sergio looking very disappointed on his birthday when Renzo got him a corn dog as a birthday gift. Sergio was practically famous now. Everyone at school knew him as Disappointed Guy, even the teachers.

"Ah, why can't I be a meme?" Vivi asked. "If I were a meme, I could make tons of people laugh. Maybe even half of the world. That would bring me halfway to my goal!"

Vivi's goal in life was to make everyone in the world laugh, in place of her deceased grandfather who was a comedian.

"So that's why I have to keep being Shigure." Vivi said. "Because Shigure can make people laugh!"

Suddenly, class started, and Mr. Oguchi slowly hobbled to the front of the room in a very monotonous manner.

"Okay class. Today we will be learning about the quadratic formula and blah blah blah."

Listening to Mr. Oguchi for even two seconds made all his words sound like "blah blah blah".

Kids in the class began to fall asleep. Life slowly was vacuumed out of all of them. It was hard to believe that Mr. Oguchi himself could stay awake through all his boring talking.

"Well... at least I'm not as boring as Mr. Oguchi." Vivi said, stifling a yawn.

The kids in school who knew Japanese knew that Oguchi meant small mouth, as in the mouth of a river. But Ooguchi, with a longer "O" sound, meant big mouth.

That's why everyone liked to say his name, stretching out the "O" sound as long as they could. "Mr. Ooooooooooguchi has such a big mouth!"

Vivi started having a dream where Mr. Oguchi was a monster with a huge mouth.

He used his mouth to inhale the kids' life power until they turned to zombies... and the zombies began to attack Vivi!

"Ah! Zombies begone!" Vivi suddenly woke up and leapt out of her chair with her giant pencil in her hand. She then realized that she was in the middle of class. Everything went still. Everyone was staring at her.

It caused quite a scene.

Suddenly, people started to laugh! At Vivi! Ahem... I mean Shigure. Well, you get the idea, right.

Vivi was finally making people laugh! Being Shigure for the day must have worked!

She bowed profusely.

"Thank you, thank you!" She did many bows, imagining roses being thrown at her.

Suddenly, it happened for real.

A spotlight appeared and shone on Vivi. A shower of roses began to pelt her.

"Encore!" Everyone was cheering.

A microphone began to appear in Vivi's hand.

"Guys, I am touched by your applesauce." Vivi said.

"The word is applause, not applesauce." Maia said.

"Ah, but still!" Vivi said. "They are even throwing applesauce at me."

"Oh, no! Is Vivi going to sing?" Maia said.

"You know it!" Vivi said.

Vivi then started singing "The Heart Will Go On" very badly. A window broke and all the sound started escaping.

Lunette was walking pass the classroom while the commotion was going on. Suddenly, the potion bottle which was made of glass shattered and broke, and the tear-inducing potion began to spill all over the hallway.

The fumes got into Lunette's eyes and made her start sobbing. She concealed herself with her long witch robe and fled far far away.

After class ended, the hallways began to fill up again. Everyone who passed by Lunette's spilled formula began to cry for no reason. Except for Vivi, who was somehow immune to it.

"Hey, why are all you guys crying?" Vivi asked. Suddenly, something hit Vivi...

"Ah, this is it!" She thought. "This is my chance to cheer up everyone!"

[jbuffyangel]

Let It Go: Arrow 5x21 Review (Honor Thy Fathers)

See... this is what happens when I don’t pull all nighters. My life interferes with my ability to write insanely long reviews. Sorry for the wait my friends. Your patience is appreciated.

There comes a moment in every person's life when you realize your life is your own, a separate entity beyond your parent's expectations and dreams for you. You also see your parents for what they are... imperfect people just like you. There is freedom in these realizations and it is a crucial part of adulthood. As you grow older, your life is less and less defined by being what your parents leave behind. You begin to wonder what you will leave behind. You define a legacy for yourself. You learn how to live for yourself.

That is essentially the process both Oliver and Thea are going through in "Honor Thy Fathers" but because they are superheroes everything is on a super scale. Both Oliver and Thea faced their past tonight. They saw Robert Queen for who he really was and with those lessons came a certain peace. The past is no longer weighing them down. Both Thea and Oliver are free to look to the future.

Not quite sure what to do with a television show that gives me everything I've been waiting for on a narrative level. So... Imma gonna drink wine and throw confetti.

Let's dig in...

Olicity

I am very specifically incorporating Oliver's section of the review with Felicity because he could not have gotten here without her. That's true for both this episode and this five year journey.  

This is sort of my Arrow mantra, but let’s do this again for old times sake shall we? In every hero's story, there is a great love. This love is what the hero fights for, sacrifices for and lives for. This love is what makes the hero a hero. 

The wonderful thing about Oliver and Felicity's love story is they are each heroes in their own right. The love Oliver has for Felicity has helped her evolve into the hero she is and the love Felicity has for Oliver has helped him evolve into the hero he is.

However,  "Honor Thy Fathers" was specifically about Oliver. The road to the Green Arrow was long and difficult. I've always said when Oliver becomes the Green Arrow he will ready for Felicity. She is the last piece to this puzzle. However, he cannot become the Green Arrow without her.  Oliver must walk this road alone sometimes, but he also must walk it with Felicity. What's so beautiful about "Honor Thy Fathers" is not only did Felicity walk those final steps with Oliver... she held his hand.

Chase sent Oliver a corpse encased in concrete because... the fun? Honestly, Prometheus does the most fucked up things and I love him for it. Arrow has found its off the wall, loony tunes Joker and please oh please can we keep him?

It's a fifteen year old corpse, so it's not Robert Queen like we presumed. It's actually much worse. It's the body of the man Robert Queen killed. Now, way back in Season 1 the audience was told this little nugget of information in the flashbacks of 1x21 "The Undertaking." Oliver, however, was not.  For those of you who are like me and have absolutely no recollection of this information, allow me to fill you in:

Robert Queen: Because I'm not the man you think I am. About a month before the opening of the steel factory, the one in The Glades,  I was approached by a local councilman. He wanted money. Told me that's the way everything was done in The Glades. I told him I never paid a bribe in my life.  We got into an argument. I didn't want to hurt him,  I swear Moira, but he fell.

Moira: Oh dear God.

Robert: The work I'm doing with Malcolm, with the list, it's my penance Moira.

Moira: So you'll atone for one murder by committing hundreds? Thousands? Robert, you listen to me, whatever wrongs you've committed, whatever mistakes you've made, preventing this horror is your chance to make it right. Please Robert, promise me you won't let this happen.

Robert tried to make it right. He plans in motion to stop Malcolm. He told Moira everything was going to be alright... and he got on the boat.

Note the episode number. We found out the truth about Robert Queen in the flashbacks of 1x21. It is no accident that, four years later, Oliver is finally coming to grips with that truth in 5x21. Robert Queen's death is the catalyst for Oliver's hero's journey and the beginning of his pain. This road for Oliver began with father, which is why it has to end with him.

Our lives can change in a breath. One decision, one moment, can change your life, change you, forever.  As Robert Queen held his son on that boat he was given a gift. A moment of clarity.  Robert saw his son for who he was and everything he could be. When Robert looked into Oliver's eyes, he saw the legacy he wanted to build, but death would not allow. Robert didn't know how, but somehow he knew Oliver would survive. Oliver would make it home. He would make it better. Oliver would right his wrongs.

Anatoly: That video. He wants you to save your home. I do not think Kapiushon is what he had in mind.

The thrill of the characters voicing my thoughts never gets old. 

Anatoly is right. Robert Queen never imagined the Green Arrow. He saw something different I think and it gave Robert the courage, and the peace, to pull the trigger.

However, Robert's death has weighed Oliver down for ten years.  Oliver has never been the same since then. He blamed himself for Robert's death. It's the reason why Oliver believed he enjoyed killing. He believed he was a monster long before Prometheus came into the picture. He just was too scared to admit it.

Arrow is pushing Oliver to face the truth on multiple levels. Last week, he confessed his deepest shame to Felicity and discovered that his deepest fear, Felicity leaving, was for naught. Instead, truth is what brought her home. 

Truth is what made Felicity stay. Truth led Oliver to forgiveness and opened the door to the love that's been waiting for him all along.

But Felicity isn't the whole story. There's more truth Oliver has to discover, both on his own and with Felicity by his side. Primary among that is the truth about Robert Queen. Oliver has to understand who his father really was and what that means for him.

Naming the darkness was the first step.

Confessing to Diggle, so Oliver’s mind could understand the truth, was the second step.

Confessing to Felicity, to love, so his heart could believe the truth, was the third step.

And understanding his father, in a way Oliver never has before, is the final step.

Step to what you ask? To letting the pain go.

Oliver is convinced Chase is framing Robert. There is no way Robert killed this councilman, even though Dinah and Lance bring some hard-to-defy evidence like Robert's DNA under the councilman's skin. Damn that pesky concrete. Conservation is a motherfucker.

Oh Oliver... my sweet summer child. You poor bastard.

It's no secret that Oliver views his family with rose colored glasses, but there's something eternally innocent about the way Oliver loves his family. It's like he's trying to hold on to the way he remembered them before the Island. Except, every new secret unearthed makes that memory seem further and further away.

What Oliver doesn't understand, and what he will come to realize, is seeing someone for who they truly are is still love. Unconditional love doesn't mean we are ignorant to the flaws of those we love. It doesn't mean we cannot demand better. It simply means we continue to love that person while acknowledging the truth of who they are. It's a more complete way of loving. A more honest love.

Of course, Chase has thought of everything, which includes irrefutable proof that he leaves with his father's attorney - the last man to see the councilman alive. The proof is security footage of Robert Queen killing the councilman.

Now, generally speaking, this is the least murdery murder video I've ever seen.

It's CLEARLY an accident, but that makes it all the more tragic. Instead of telling the truth, Robert Queen runs away. He covers it up. If Robert had confessed and shown the video to the police, yes there probably would have been consequences (Murder 2 is a thing), but nowhere near as severe as the punishment for covering it up.

This mistake is what led Robert Queen to Malcolm Merlyn. It why Robert believed in the list. It was his penance. It's also what put him deep inside The Undertaking and squarely in Merlyn's crosshairs.

Shame runs deep into our marrow, until it becomes part of who you are. Robert's shame led him down a dark path, just like Oliver's did. Say what you will about Robert and Moira's marriage, but it was confessing to his wife that made Robert see the truth. Just like Oliver confessing to Felicity made him see the truth.

Oliver is horrified after watching the video. So... let's talk about this because Oliver's reaction is slightly confusing. First, he knew Robert was a murderer. Robert shot the other man on the raft  before he shot himself. THAT COUNTS OLIVER.  

Also, his involvement with the Undertaking was pretty shady. So, why is Oliver freaking about little Mr. Accidental Death?

Well... I think we need to keep a couple things in mind. First, this is five years later. Initially when Oliver came home he had a lot of difficulty with the knowledge that Robert failed the city, the list and the Undertaking. 

By the time Oliver arrives to the end of 1x23, and his battle with Merlyn, he believes his father was trying to stop The Undertaking and that's why Merlyn killed Robert. All factual. So, after the events of Season 1, Oliver is able to view his father in an honorable light despite his past mistakes.

As for the man on the raft, Oliver views that murder as his father doing what he had to for Oliver to survive. The key is, Oliver is able explain his father's actions to himself. He is not able to do the same with the councilman.

I don't think Oliver has as much of a problem with the killing as he does the lying, which is extremely interesting given what he's just gone through with Felicity. Oliver can tell the difference between accidentally knocking someone into a pit of cement versus breaking someone's neck. Intent matters. So, Oliver is willing to give his father a pass on the actual killing because it was an accident. It's why Oliver defends Robert to Thea.

Oliver: That was an accident.

Thea: Yeah, an accident he tried to cover up.

Yuuup. That about sums it up kiddos. A+ work Queen sibilings. Both are right. It was an accident, but Robert did nothing to try and save the man. Concrete actually takes some time to harden there Bobby. You could have taken a minute to investigate or call the police. There was time.

Instead, Robert leaves and covers it up.

Oliver is having a very Felicity Smoak like reaction to all of this. Oliver thought he knew everything about his father. He thought he knew all of Robert's secrets. Oliver had dealt with and processed all of those secrets. Then, he comes to find there's another one lurking around the corner. Is it the worst thing Robert ever did? Well... it's not good! That's for sure. 

Whether or not it's the worst is debatable, but the excuses and reasoning Oliver used to justify his father's actions on the raft and with the Undertaking don't quite fit with the councilman. Oliver has the rug pulled out from under him with this revelation. It makes him question everything about Robert Queen.

This is precisely what happened to Felicity when she discovered Oliver's lie about William. Felicity thought she knew Oliver's secrets and processed all of them. Felicity thought they were past this and then she comes to find out that there's another lurking around the corner. She had the rug pulled out from under her.

The effect is jarring and takes some time for Oliver to process - just like it did for Felicity. Luckily for Oliver, he has Felicity to help guide him through it precisely because they've found a way to weather the William lie.

I love Felicity's reaction to Oliver watching Robert's video again. "No pressure." I mean... seriously. 

The enormity of what Robert was putting on Oliver's shoulders is not often discussed, but this was one hefty load to bear.  The fact that Oliver rose to the occasion is just more proof Robert Queen saw the hero Oliver truly could be in those final moments.

Oliver: Chase wants to destroy the basis for everything that we’re doing here and that crusade began with my father. Everything that I’ve done, everything, has been in some way about honoring him.

Once again, Oliver tells Felicity what he's afraid of. He's getting pretty good at this isn't he? 

He tells Felicity that he missed the truth - Robert Queen is a murderer. Oliver puts killing the councilman and covering it up in a different bracket than helping Merlyn with the Undertaking (but ultimately trying to stop it) or murdering the man on the raft. For Oliver, this is the worst thing Robert has ever done. Robert Queen would agree.

Chase's mission is to get Oliver to believe he's a hypocrite and a killer. The subsequent confession that resulted from the torture made Oliver believe those things were true. Thanks to Diggle and Felicity's love, Oliver understands the truth now. There's a difference between enjoying killing and believing he enjoys it. Oliver's deepest fear was that, deep down, he was a monster. The killing was a manifestation of who he truly is. As I explained in my 5x20 review, the reason Oliver so readily believed the lie is because he believes he killed his father. 

Oliver believed he was a monster before he stepped foot on Lian Yu.

Except, Oliver isn't a monster who enjoys killing nor is he to blame for Robert Queen's death. Oliver Queen is an imperfect man, as we all are. Oliver is realizing on a deeper level that his father was just as imperfect. This is ultimately a gift. It's pushing Oliver to see what Robert truly meant by, "Right my wrongs."

Oliver likes to put people in boxes - including himself. You are either one thing or the other. People are far more complicated than that. Oliver is not a sociopath who enjoys killing. However, he has killed. Those two things are not the same though and there is a wide berth in the distinction between the two. It's the same with Robert Queen. Oliver's father may not be as honorable as he thought. However, he's not the monster Adrian Chase claims him to be.

At first, Oliver feared his mission was a lie because of who he is. Now, he fears it's a lie because of who Robert Queen was. Everything he's done was to honor a man who wasn't very honorable. In fact, Oliver has killed in his father's name. Is it any different than what Chase is doing for his father? Maybe Chase is right. Maybe Oliver is a hypocrite.

To which, Felicity responds...

The conversation Oliver and Felicity have about his father is nearly identical to the one she and Oliver had about him, which is exactly the point. Like father like son. The only way to stop the cycle is to change it.

No matter who Robert Queen was, he was a man who inspired Oliver to be a better man and save the city. All of which Oliver accomplished. Felicity argues perhaps the reasons for beginning the journey are not as important as the journey itself. PREACH MY SISTA!

As Oliver struggles with the truth of his father, Felicity tells him once again what she knows to be true. Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow, makes lives better, including hers. Felicity sees what Robert Queen saw in that boat. She's always seen it and that belief has helped Oliver see it too. Oliver did it. He became everything Robert asked him to be. Rather than question his motives for becoming the Green Arrow, Oliver simply needs to embrace it.

In other words... Oliver needs to let the past go.  

As Oliver laments his inability to really move forward, because the past always pulls him back, 

Felicity rightly points out it's because Oliver lets it. LORD IS THAT THE TRUTH.  

Listen, it’s not like Oliver’s pain isn’t understandble. Homeboy has lived through THE SUCK. But... he doesn’t have to keep living there.

We cannot change the past. We can, however, change how we deal with it. 

None of us belong to our past. None of us are defined by it. The past is a piece of who we are, but it is not the sum total of who we are. The difference between Oliver being hostage to his past and moving forward to the future is a matter of choice. It's been one Felicity has been asking him for a long time to make. Oliver simply hasn't been ready until now.

It's the same as confessing his secret. Say it out loud Oliver. Say it out loud so you can let it go. It's the reason it was so vitally important for Oliver to confess his shame to Felicity. Love reflected the truth to Oliver. Once he understood it, Oliver was able to let the shame go.

Not only does Oliver tell Felicity he knows she’s right...

he believes she's right. This is why Oliver needs Felicity. It why he will always need her. Knowledge speaks to the mind, but belief comes from the heart. It's why Oliver is able to process Robert's lie for what it is... and let it go.

Equally important is Oliver reaching out to Felicity. There is an ease between them. No more walls, but rather the intimacy that comes from the love and truth between them. 

William was once a taboo topic, but now they talk easily about his whereabouts. Oliver asks Felicity for help with William and is reassured by it. THY NAME IS CHARACTER GROWTH!

And then... WE HAVE SHOULDER TOUCHING!!! 

My actual reaction:

This is the Olicity equivalent to foreplay. Do not ask me where the rebuild is. SHOULDER TOUCH = REUNION. These are Olicity maths that don't lie.

More importantly, when Oliver discovers what Robert did he doesn't make the same mistake and push Felicity away. He doesn't isolate in his pain. Nor does Oliver allow his worst fears to dictate his reaction to her love.

Instead, Oliver opens up to Felicity. He's already told her the one thing he never wanted to. Facing that fear and shame makes facing all the rest easier. Lian Yu will always beckon to Oliver every time his past rears its head, but 5x20 taught Oliver how to leave the Island behind in a way he's never known before.

He makes the same choice in "Honor Thy Fathers." He didn't know it then, but there was a piece of himself Oliver was holding back in Season 4. 

Oliver understands that now and faced it. This time, he doesn't hide from Felicity. Oliver chooses to leave the island behind and walk through the door Felicity opened in "Underneath." 

Oliver shows Felicity the video. He listens. Oliver lets Felicity in. Her words land because Oliver allows them to.  In this moment, Oliver chose home instead of the island because now he understands how to. Now he understands there's nothing to fear in that choice. This is the change Felicity asked for.

Oliver is ready.  He's ready for Felicity, which means he's ready to be the Green Arrow - in the way he's meant to be.

Oliver puts on the suit, but it's Felicity's speech that galvanizes the choice. Oliver must become the Green Arrow to be worthy of the kind of relationship she deserves, but he cannot become the Green Arrow without her. Putting on the suit as a direct reaction to Felicity's words is the perfect way to encapsulate this symbiotic balance. It reinforces absolutely everything I've believed about Arrow and have spent the last three years writing about. I have to be honest, it's an extremely satisfying moment and worth waiting five years for.

Felicity harnesses his light once again. Felicity's belief makes Oliver believe like it has so many times before. Only this time Oliver knows he is worthy of the responsibility in a way he hasn't before. The darkness no longer has power over Oliver because he faced it. It means Oliver is able to see himself as more than just one thing - killer or hero/sinner or saint. He understands he's a complicated man, an imperfect man, but a man who is determined to always be better.

This belief also leads Oliver to some truth about who Robert Queen really is. Oliver is able to see his father the same way - a complicated man, an imperfect man, but a man who was determined to be better. This clarity leads to a gift.

Oliver tells Chase mid battle Justin Claybourne was going to disown him because...

The truth bomb is a bit jarring to be honest because the revelation to Oliver was off screen. I think I would have preferred to see Oliver obtain this little golden nugget and know the ace up his sleeve going into the fight with Chase. It felt less like a bomb and more like

I'm being a little nitpicky. I know, which is why I'm letting it go.

Chase wants to a side by side comparison of their fathers, Robert and Justin. Fine, let's play Crazy Pants. Let's just say accidentally killing a man and covering it up is on the same level as trying to gas the population with a terminal disease in order to make millions off the antibiotic. Or let's say being complicit in a plan to kill hundreds or thousands with an earthquake machine is the same as the terminal disease plan. Perhaps that's a more equal side by side comparisons.

First, Justin Claybourne expressed no remorse. In fact, most of those people landed on the list because they rejected the concept of remorse. It doesn't make it okay that Oliver killed him, but it certainly doesn't equate to the remorse Robert Queen felt for all his wrongs.

If this is really about honoring their fathers, then Chase missed a very key element. Justin Claybourne never wanted Sam to honor him. His father didn't want anything to do with him.

It's a moment of clarity for Oliver. Robert Queen was never asking Oliver to honor him. Robert was asking his son be more honorable than him. Robert believed in Oliver's goodness, in his heart, and had absolute faith his son would be a better man because... he already was one to Robert.  Robert never stopped believing in Oliver and he gave up his life for this belief.

I don't think Oliver ever looked at it that way before. He understood his father made a courageous sacrifice for his survival, but Oliver has been so consumed with the guilt and shame over his father's death that he was never able to see himself through Robert's eyes. I don't think Robert was viewing Oliver with rose colored glasses. He knew the good, the bad and the ugly about his son and still... he believed. Robert saw Oliver the way Diggle sees him. The way Felicity sees him. Oliver Queen is imperfect, but he is worthy. Unconditional love is not an ignorance to flaws. It is belief in spite of them.

It's important not to discount William's role in Oliver's realizations and evolution. You understand how much your parents love you when you have a child of your own. I didn't know I had the capacity to love that much until my daughter. How does one put the infinite into words? It's a love absolutely worth dying for, but more importantly, it's one worth living for.

The councilman's murder revealed Robert's deepest shame. Oliver understands the full meaning of, "I'm not the man you thought I was" because he knows the truth. And because of everything he's gone through this season.

Robert Queen is where the shame began. Robert Queen is where the shame must end. Oliver sees his father clearly now and he understands that Robert's sins are not his own. 

We are not condemned to live our parents lives, to make their mistakes or become who they were. There exists a choice. Make no mistake - it is very easy to fall into the same patterns as our parents. That's why we must be willing to see them for who they are - imperfect people. Just like us.

For so long, Oliver Queen has lived in the past. He allowed the past to dictate and control who he was. 

Felicity's request to stop living in the past finally lands with Oliver because... he's ready for it to. The darkness has lost its power over him. The light has taken the stronger hold. Oliver is just... done. He's tired of being pulled back. It's time to move forward.

Sometimes it's easier to see who we are when we see ourselves reflected in someone we love. Thea immediately assumes because of who her parents were that's the reason she's grown up to be a monster.  For Oliver, the last thing Thea is or could ever be is a monster.  If Thea's fate isn't predetermined in Oliver's eyes... then wouldn't that be true for him as well?

Of course it is. We are not carbon copies of our parents. Oliver is not fated to be like Moira and Robert anymore than Thea is fated to be like Moira and Malcolm (and Robert). Their parents are part of Oliver and Thea, of course, and that includes their mistakes. However, they are not beholden to them. Our parents lives can be a great gift to us. We can see the twists and turns of their lives - the places where they made mistakes and where they triumphed. We are not meant to become our parents, but rather to learn from them - the good, the bad and the ugly. Not unlike the past.

Oliver gives Thea the video Robert left of her. He knows it was wrong to keep it from her. Oliver thought the video would be a burden, but he understands now it can be freeing for Thea. She needs to see herself through Robert's eyes, just like Oliver did.

There's another moment of significant change in Oliver. He doesn't kill Chase. The councilman's murder makes something crystal clear to Oliver - Robert's wrongs started with killing. Therefore, they cannot be fixed with killing.

"What good is a family without a soul?"

Anatoly you speak my truth! This is the question Robert asked himself in the video and it’s the question Oliver needs to start asking himself this. What good is Oliver really doing if he loses his soul in the process? 

This has never been about the people Oliver has killed. Most, if not all, were very bad people and the world is better off without them. Oliver was justified in killing them, but that's really not the point. The point is the cost to Oliver's soul. All of this death takes a toll on him and it strips little pieces of it away. Oliver has to stop giving those pieces away, so he has to stop killing. Arrow is pushing Oliver to a stronger moral code. Something to hold to beyond rationalizations and justifications, because those can ebb and flow. That's not real morality. We can justify pretty much anything if we need to.

It's why Arrow incorporated killing with lying. It's not just about killing, but a broader morality. A more honorable one. Robert killed and he lied. Oliver killed and lied. We've seen the ramifications of both those choices and the roads they lead down. 

Anatoly: The people closest to you always pay for your sins. You are paying for your father’s. Who will pay for yours?

Death begets death. There’s been a cost for Oliver and sometimes it was more than he can bear.

This is generational. Oliver is no longer the son. He's the father now. If he doesn't want to repeat Robert's mistakes, if this is really about being a better man, then Oliver has to learn from his father. So, William isn't pulled into the same generational cycle. It gives his mission, his morality, a new focus. Oliver has to look to the future, and not the past, to define it.

But first... there's one last thing Oliver needs to do for his father before he can really let it go.

Sometimes, if we're lucky, we are given a glimpse. It comes to us like... truth. I've experienced this in my own life. Once as a small child and then again, years later, when I was pregnant with my daughter. The first time it happened I was only 11. It was the night before a big and risky surgery and I was scared. I didn't want to fall asleep, primarily because I was afraid I wouldn't wake up after the operation. So, I was trying to stay awake as long as possible. I decided to say a prayer. I don't particularly remember what I prayed, but I do remember a voice. Loud and firm, but very gentle. It said, "You are going to be fine. Go to sleep." In that moment I was absolutely overwhelmed with a sense of peace. I never felt calm like that and I instantly fell asleep.

You can call me nuts. It's okay. Sometimes I wondered if I dreamed it, but then it happened again. When I was facing a life threatening pregnancy with my daughter.  The voice was just as firm and loud. It kept saying, "28 weeks." And I knew, I KNEW, that's how long I had to hold on for my child to be okay. Eventually, my body just gave out and the doctors had to deliver her. My daughter's birthday was exactly 28 weeks to the day. As they wheeled me into surgery, I knew it was possible I might not wake up. The same peace overwhelmed me and I also knew, no matter if I survived or not, everything was going to be okay.

Y'all know by now I'm Catholic, so you can figure out who I attribute the voice to. I tell these stories because I think sometimes in moments of life and death, we're given these glimpses for a reason. These glimpses give us the strength to face what's coming, even if what's coming is death. Those moments weren't lonely for me and it gives me hope, that when it is my time, I'll be able to face it without fear.

We enjoy stories because they entertain, but also because they remind us of our own lives or we are able to glean some truth from them. I was hooked on Arrow before Felicity Smoak showed up. 

Robert Queen's death is what hooked me. It was shocking and jarring. I immediately understood the horrors Oliver had survived and that it was just beginning. I needed to see where his story went.

So, that's what Robert's words to Oliver mean to me. 

He was a given a glimpse and that is what gave him the strength to pull the trigger. I've often wondered what the glimpse looked like, whether it was a voice or an image or maybe both. Arrow answered a lot of questions in "Honor Thy Fathers" (like how Oliver learned to fly),  but this was the question I wanted answer - What was Robert’s glimpse? It was this...

Robert Queen never imagined the Green Arrow. He only saw his son, dressed in a fine suit, taking responsibility for what he did. Oliver admitted Robert killed the councilman. He stood up and told the truth. By doing so, Oliver freed Robert of his shame. Oliver freed himself too. More than saving the city, this is what Robert meant by "right my wrongs."

Oliver isn't able to offer any defense for his father's crime because... there isn't one. Except perhaps fear, but that doesn't justify his actions. Oliver does, however, tell Star City about the man that he knew. He tells them that Robert, in a moment of courageousness, sacrificed his life for his son. It doesn't erase his sins, but penance isn't about that. It's about atonement.

A Face Like Mine by Peter Bradley Adams

I know he had a reason

I know a man can get lost

Whatever he believed in

I know he suffered the cost

 His picture's almost faded

But I filled in the lines

And nothing's unforgiven

So father don't you cry

 Now the years have found me

With a child of my own

Another generation

That must carry the load

 But somewhere there's a memory

In the back of my mind

I see my father smiling

With a face like mine

This is a monumentally huge moment emotionally for Oliver. This is what letting go of the past looks like. Had Oliver found out about the councilman's murder four years ago, he would not have done this. He would have not told the truth. Oliver would have covered it up in the name of protecting his father. Oliver has a deeper understanding now of the truth honor really requires. He also understands what his father really needed in terms of "righting his wrongs."

Oliver also tells the truth about how Robert Queen died. "Honor Thy Fathers" is not the first time Arrow has used this title. 1x02 was entitled similarly, "Honor Thy Father." Oliver is very vague about Robert Queen's death.

Oliver implies, if not flat out lies, that Robert went down with the boat. That's the public story. It's the story Diggle knew before Oliver told him the truth. It's what Thea believed before Oliver told her the truth.

Now, Oliver tells Star City the truth.  He tells everyone how Robert Queen really died. Oliver admitting this publically is such a profound statement on his healing.  He  isn't carrying the guilt or shame for Robert's death anymore. Whatever wrongs his father committed, Oliver can look back and see that moment, the moment where everything changed, as one of profound courage and unconditional love.

"I didn't know how painful it would be to keep my secrets. You asked me to save this city. To right your wrongs. I will. I swear. But to do that, I can't be the Oliver that everyone wants me to be. Which means that sometimes to honor your wishes I need to dishonor your memory."

Oliver made this speech to his father, kneeling in front of his grave. He had such a different perspective back then on what honoring Robert meant, the necessity of lies and the danger of truth.  The weight of the past, of what Robert had asked of him, is weighing so heavily on Oliver in this moment it's almost crushing him.

This confession, admitting Robert's guilt and how he died, is the last weight of the past that Oliver finally puts down. 

By doing so, Oliver truly honors his father. He breaks the cycle of lies with truth. Oliver breaks the cycle of killing by seeking a different kind of justice. He's allowed family, 

friendship 

and love back into his heart. 

He's made lives better as the Green Arrow. 

And as Oliver Queen.

He's saved the city. 

Oliver has been forgiven  

and has learned to forgive himself. 

He's the Oliver he never thought he could be.

This is all Robert Queen has ever wanted for his son. He never wanted Oliver to be like him or live in the past. All Robert wanted was for Oliver to live his life to fullest for himself and for the people and city he loves. That's the life Robert died for. So... live it Oliver.

Thea Queen

Of all the characters on Arrow, I think Thea's arc has been the most complex and interesting. Truthfully, I didn't like Thea very much in Season 1 and watching her evolution has been one of the great joys of this show.  

Yeah, she was benched in Season 5, which sucks, but it happens to every character eventually. My concern any time a character leaves the Arrow cave is they will be immediately regulated to Laurel Lance land of S1 & S2, where it feels like they are on a different show. That's sort of what happened with Thea this season.

My preference, of course, is to utilize Thea the best way possible (and in every episode) like they did Season 1- Season 4. However, this is television and it is an imperfect medium. So, my next preference is to use the character in targeted episodes that produce maximum narrative punch. Arrow achieved maximum punch with Thea in "Honor Thy Fathers."

Oliver and Thea are on very similar trajectories this year, which I wasn't expecting at the beginning of the season. I sort of thought Oliver would have his crap together a little sooner. HA! I know. Foolish child.

Truthfully, I just didn't see Prometheus coming nor was I expecting the darkness bomb that was 5x17. Oliver's 2B journey is very similar to the journey Thea has been grappling with since, really Season 3. 

Is she a monster? Listen, being Malcolm Merlyn's daughter isn't easy and if I had that psychopath's genes in my DNA, I'd be giving the mirror a serious and hard look.  

Of course, Thea only need to look at Tommy for hope that maybe she's nothing like her father and DNA doesn't determine our souls.

Ugh. Still so painful.

I actually think Thea is more like Moira than she is Merlyn.

BABY MOIRA LIVES!!! 

Moira pulled some seriously shady stuff, which includes being complicity in the murder of hundreds. Moira was always willing to do whatever was necessary to protect her children and reconciled that her love for them balanced her sins in the cosmic equations. Moira was willing to go to the depths of hell itself if it meant keeping her children safe. This love gave Moira the strength to give up her life for Oliver and Thea.

Thea operates in a similar way. She's driven by love, like her mother, and not revenge and hate, like her father. But Thea understands something that even Moira did not. No matter how much their parents loved them, it doesn't excuse everything they did. Since Thea is driven by love, she can apply this lesson to herself. Being willing to do whatever is necessary to protect those she loves isn't an absolution. There's still a price to be paid.

What I love about Thea is her realism, especially when it comes to their family. She's the complete opposite of Oliver. Thea hears Robert killed a councilman and thinks, "Yup. Makes sense," while Oliver rails idealistic platitudes about their parents. It seems pretty clear there's only one Queen sibling who actually watches Arrow. I suggest Seasons 1-5 on DVD for Oliver for Christmas Thea. It'll make a nice stocking stuffer.

Oliver faced his own internal monster these past few episodes, which has prepared him to help Thea. Maybe in a way he wasn't capable of before. Now, he understands what Thea feels on a deeper level because instead of avoiding that pain like he has for the last five years, Oliver finally faced it. Well... after Chase tortured him, but Oliver still did all the work after, so I'm giving him points.

Oliver harnesses Thea's light by realizing that maybe he's not the person she needs right now. Who Thea needs right now is her father - Robert Queen. Oliver was afraid that what Robert says in the video would be a burden to Thea. He didn't want his sister to feel like she has to take care of him, which as Felicity accurately points out, is so Oliver Queen. Oliver sometimes fails to understand that this whole family thing is reciprocal.

What Robert tells Thea isn't a burden. It's freedom. 

It's such an exquisitely emotional moment, because we realize how well Robert knew both his children and how much Thea needs her father right now.

Thea is stronger than Oliver. She always has been and Oliver knows that. As much as Oliver has survived, as much as he's overcome, there is always a moment when pain shuts Oliver down. I don't attribute this all to his PTSD. This happened to Oliver before the Island. Part of his journey to the Green Arrow is to learn how to process pain and adversity in a healthier way.

“Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up.” - Four, Divergent

Thea isn't like that. Pain doesn't shut Thea down. 

It wakes her up. 

She finds a way to absorb the pain and uses it to make her stronger.

“If there's a crisis, you don't freeze, you move forward. You get the rest of us to move forward. Because you've seen worse. You've survived worse, and you know we'll survive too. You say you're all dark and twisty. It's not a flaw, it's a strength. It makes you who you are.” Derek Shepherd, Grey’s Anatomy

Robert speaks to the core of who Thea is. 

Souce: @oilversqueen

Her strength is what makes her the rock Oliver Queen can crash against. There are two things Oliver cannot survive - losing Thea or Felicity. Oliver needs his sister to go on living. Losing her would be his breaking point. Oliver doesn't come back from that.

This love Thea feels for her brother, and everyone she loves for that matter, is often what causes her to cross lines. Robert gives Thea a gift because his words help her refocus that love. Oliver doesn't come back from losing Thea and there's more than one way to lose someone. If she wants to help her brother, then Thea has to hold the moral line as well.  Thea can love just as intensely as Moira and Robert (and maybe even Malcolm), but she can also love differently. That's how she breaks the cycle.

Oliver passes along the advice Felicity gave him to his sister because, after five years, he's finally realized she's always right and life would just be a lot simpler if he just listened to her the first time.

I think the words land with Thea for the same reason they land with Oliver. The past is a heavy burden to carry and there just comes a point when you are tired. You want to let it go. Someone just needs to tell you that it's okay. The Queen siblings are tired. They are ready to let this go. (So is the audience kids. Go with God.)

So that's what Oliver does for Thea. She's not a monster. She's not destined to become like Malcolm or even Moira and Robert. Thea is her own person and it's okay to let the past go. It's okay to start living for herself, because... Oliver is right. That's what Moira would want. That's what would Robert want. It's what they died for.

Lance and Wild Dog

Seriously, I ship it hard. The friendship between Lance and Wild Dog has been one of the surprises for me this year. It's taken a little while to get there, but their scenes together are really starting to land with me.  Paul Blackthorne and Rick Gonzalez just play off each other so well. Their two characters just blend together, which is kind of shocking when you look at how different they are.

Rene wants his daughter back. This makes me so damn happy. I enjoy hero stories that are moving somewhere. Rene's intent and purpose for being Wild Dog took a little while to flesh out, but ultimately my take away is- this year with Team Arrow prepared Rene to be the father Zoë needs.  Like so many before him, the mask was an outlet for his grief and rage, but I am seeing a less wild version of Wild Dog these past few episodes. He is learning. He is growing. He is far less annoying. Damn it. I like him.

His reticance about putting Zoë through a hearing I think actually shows how good a father Rene is. He doesn't want to put Zoë through emotional trauma. Rene is harboring a lot of guilt for what happened to her mother, for the reason Zoë is in foster care to begin with. It would be very easy to believe she's better off. (Does this sound like anyone we know?)

Lance tells Rene he's right. The hearing may bring up bad memories for Zoë, but that's exactly why he needs to go. Rene needs to get his daughter back so he can give her new memories - happy ones - of them together. Otherwise, all she be left with is the bad. Rene has resigned himself to living in the past and by doing so he's resigned his daughter to the same fate. He's refusing to look to the future, to the possibility of happiness, because of what happened in the past.

Lance became pretty emotional during his little chat with Rene and pretty much begs him to go to the hearing. Quentin Lance is a hard shell to crack, but once you do he's just full of ooey gooey yumminess. He cares about Rene. He's seen how much he's grown and Lance firmly believes Zoë is better off with her father.

I also think some of the emotion can be attributed to Laurel. She's always there, just underneath the surface, for Lance. Lance has a hefty amount of guilt for how Laurel died and for the pain his alcoholism caused her. Quentin doesn't have the same opportunity that Rene does. He can't make new happy memories with his daughter. He will never have that chance again. So, some of this for Lance is trying to get Rene to see that he still has a future with Zoë. Lance does not.  All he has left is the past.

It's why Rene not showing up makes ABSOLUTELY no sense. So it's one of two options: A) Rene still has a ways to go or B) my girl @callistawolf is right and Prometheus already took him.

Stray Thoughts

This really could have served as a season finale for me. I mean... obviously Chase is ten steps of Oliver, got captured intentionally and is going to fuck shit up crazy pants style. But from an Oliver Queen emotional evolution standpoint? I'm good. He's everything I ever wanted him to be (which is how he'll beat Prometheus).  Eh... well... alright, if I'm being honest I need him to kiss Felicity. Then we can trot off to Season 6.

First up in the "Arrow Finally Answers Series Long Questions" Robert taught Oliver how to fly. It was some of his last happy memories of his dad. Awww. Also... Oliver had a skill before the island? I didn't know that could happen!

Deathstroke mask washed up on shore and Oliver used it as a grave marker for Slade because he was his friend. Oliver also felt it was some sort of sign BECAUSE IT WAS. DUN DUN DUNN!!!!!

Oliver was only on Lian Yu for TWO DAYS before the boat rescued him. A boat Anatoly arranged.

Oliver's Tom Hanks Castaway hair do was a wig. Oh Arrow... that's very meta of you.

"It makes Isobel Rochev look like a bad practical joke." Hmm...  did you sleep with Chase Oliver? Asking for a friend.

Me: Well... Oliver and Diggle haven't done a concrete hole yet.

Curtis, and not the T-Spheres, took someone down. PROGRESS!

This might be the truest thing anyone has ever said about Oliver.

Prometheus pulls out a sword. I start looking around for Oliver's Ra's Al Ghul Killin' Sword. Would seem handy at the moment.

Source:sharingmyworld

Is there anything cuter than Proud Felicity? The correct answer is no there is not.

Mini rant: Dinah asking Curtis whether or not they should move in on Sampson was kind of ridiculous. DINAH IS A COP. She would know that the guns could be legal and they need to wait to have actual evidence of a crime for the case to hold up. We did not need Curtis to explain this to her. See... this is what bugs me about Curtis. More often than not, they are dumbing down characters (mostly FEMALE) to give him something to freaking do. 

I love the name Zoë. Always have.

There's always someone on this fucked up Island Oliver. How did you not check the whole island before Anatoly left? Have you not watched the damn show?

***None of the gifs are mine. If you’d like me to remove it or credit you, just drop me a message.