#but yeah ive seen people who are half and white appearing having people say they arent native

[aguineapigcouldntdothis]

I can completely break down the notion that jews do not experience ethnic discrimination within western countries, specifically the USA.

for context I am genetically half jewish and half italian, and since I was born i have been more connected to judaism in a cultural and a religious sense. though its not a huge part of my life like judaism is it's definitely still important.

a lot of people like to argue that jews were once not seen as white and now we are, just like Italians, Greeks, Irish, etc were (at least in the USA) and I can confirm that's total bullshit. I have, not once in my life, been treated badly for being Italian. I have never had someone shame me for my appearance, make fun of my cultural food, threaten me, insult me, insult my father, say they wish I died, harassed me, or any other violent or demeaning acts because im Italian. not once in my entire life has that happened. even living in the rural USA where traditional white supremacy is alive and well that did not happen.

yet I have absolutely been harassed, verbally abused, demeaned, belittled, etc. for being jewish. Ive experienced antisemitism since I was 5 and possibly younger. ive heard holocaust jokes, nose/eye jokes, had swastikas drawn on my things, received death threats, gotten rape threats, been called a murderer, been told I should burn, was told I was poisoning the seas, had people deny my very real trauma, was told that I should've stayed dead (for context I overdosed and had to be resuscitated once), and many more things all because im jewish. these are just instances in which it was specifically mentioned or heavily heavily implied that its because im jewish.

Many of these things happened when theae people didn't even know I'm a practicing jew and some even when I stopped practicing for a couple years. a lot of the time the only reason they had to believe I was jewish was my appearance and yeah sure they were right but what it shows is that appearance alone is enough for people to be antisemitic. you know, if jews weren't ethnically discriminated then why do people target us for having things like large noses and curly hair? or for the foods that we eat? or for anything that isnt directly related to religious practices?

anyway I dont believe for a second that anyone who thinks jews dont experience ethnic discrimination in the USA has ever had a genuine conversation with a jew about antisemitism. 5 year old me did not deserve to feel like he was ugly all for some assholes to say that jews are making all this up.

☆this is part 2 in which I will add important context bc if anyone is gonna overanalyze my argument its me. u can read it if you want its not necessary to understand the post.

like I said I have spent most of my life in rural areas where there are many less jews than in big cities and obvious white supremacy is common. im 100% sure this affected a lot of the antisemitism i received.

I am sephardic, not ashkenazi. most goyim do not have a clue what this means. those who do generally think it means "jewish but spicier and more exotic (aka less american)" which could have contributed to some of the discrimination i faced for not being seen as American enough.

this is my experience not anyone else's! I am not discrediting what other people have gone though regarding any experiences with discrimination

[softbutchthatlovesyou]

Anyway (im high but whatever im saying this) I have seen black women unironically speak about how androphobia against black men is very much a real thing, because black men are forced to be black before they're allowed to be men.

Their androphobia isnt any less systemantic when the best encouragement they get to be allowed to be men is if they are willing to help racist white men to punch down on women. It just also doesn't help to like let em get away with misogyny. Or misogynoir just because they also face racism.

They are only Men to like, a shit ton of people when they get violent so why wouldn't they make boys think they're doing it right when they internalize that racist shit.

We try again and again to talk about how black boys are told they'll never be a real man if they can't fight for themsleves and how quickly that morphs into toxic masculinity against them, and it gets written off by white women who want every man to be their personal attacker ao they can claim they chose to be like this.

They are quickly degraded down to boy or something less than a person when they fight these systems.

I have watched respected black men call out systems and become completely rejected for not being a Man before he is Black or Kind. I've seen people say to them they're "not enough of a man to get that women don't need to be working here" (real quote btw)

Men can uphold the systems that benifit them yeah, but they have to be seen as men by the ones who most wants every one of us to stay down. Sometimes they do it all correct and they're slammed anyway, told off for an appearance that will never change to a racist.

A lot of you talk about gender like it's the center of all issues when racism has been shown to be time and time again also a pretty main fucking source.

If you ever actually read about intersectionality on somewhere that isn't tumblr or a twitter thread you'd know what the fuck it means, but you all personally wrote some random fucking definition that paints you as a perpetual victim in order to save yourself the trouble of thinking in anything but black and white. pun not intended

.

anyway this isnt fleshed out but here ive been dying to get this point off my chest even half done but if someone (whos not picking a fight) wants elaboration i can answer more specific questions probably

[blizzardsuplex]

Roderick Strong Primer Part III: He Has A Character, I Swear!

Part I | Part II | Part III (you are here) | Part IV

[First thing's first: heads up there's a LOT of videos, GIFs, and images embedded in this pretty long post. Second…this part is, of course, going to also have a lot of armchair psychology. I know it’ll probably be very clear to people here that I am talking about Roderick Strong as a fictional character, whether the “evidence” I pull is from fully kayfabe compliant sources or not, but…I’m talking about him as a fictional character, haha!]

Tl;dr: Roddy appears like a generic white guy asshole jock character on the surface, but he’s actually an insecure dork who doesn't mind not taking the lead and can’t express himself verbally very well (but who is still capable of being an asshole and/or jock).

Before we talk about who he is, let’s talk about who he isn’t (or at least what paints an extremely incomplete picture). A lot of people, especially before his current AEW storyline, thought of Roddy’s character as one of two things: “generic white guy who wrestles good” or “asshole jock”. The first is basically saying he has no character at all, so in a way that’s going to (hopefully) be rebutted by this entire section. At the same time, though, I’d like to note that this commonly held opinion—that he is great in-ring and that’s it—is actually acknowledged by his character, and as a heel challenged by his character.

The second, however, is definitely more interesting to address. Am I going to say that he isn't an asshole jock; that is, that he doesn’t exude “overgrown frat boy who loves athletics and little else and is also often a big bully” vibes? No. In Roddy’s Best Friends interview, both Trent? (who didn’t know him that well in 2015) and Chuck Taylor (who did/does) acknowledge that he does come across, at least initially, as a bro-y, “tough, strong guy”, the kind of person that would demure from spots like, say, kissing another man:

In fact, even when he’s a face him being a Florida bro is apparently very evident in and out of the ring, as seen here when Excalibur and Kevin Steen make fun of it for a good half-minute:

He also isn’t much of a TV guy…or a movie guy…or a video game guy…or a books guy; really, pro wrestling and music seem to be his two main passions.

As for being a bully? Well…

Yeah.

So: I’m not saying he isn’t those things. During times like his heel champ PWG run, in fact, he encouraged this perception of his persona. The reason he had to encourage it rather than just be like that, however, is because they—as with his technical prowess—aren’t the defining parts of his character. Instead, I propose that he has four main traits that remain relatively consistent, regardless of whether he’s face or heel.

1.) He’s a dork.

Roderick Strong is rarely perceived as cool—which is good, because he very much isn’t. Sometimes, though, people miss out on his usually being on the other side of the spectrum: the dorky side (which we will operationalize as “one’s levels of being a socially-inept goofy weirdo”). He isn’t socially inept in the sense that he doesn’t know how to talk to people, and especially not in the sense that he doesn’t want to talk to people. But it’s also true that he was a (self-described) “awkward fat kid”, and asked fellow former awkward fat kid Chuck Taylor in all earnestness if he also felt ostracized for it. Post-childhood, one might say that he’s making up for lost time via actions like asking peers he’s just met if they wanna hang out by watching his matches or trying to become friends with Scott Steiner by talking about…the tiny coffee cans they sell via vending machines in Japan (if you’re wondering, Big Poppa Pump no-sold the entire thing and just walked away).

As for evidence of him being goofy (sometimes to the point of childishness) and/or weird (half-straight up weirdness, half-being so basic it circles back to weird)? Take your pick:

2.) He’s insecure.

Oh boy.

As established in part 2, Roddy had what you might call a “difficult” childhood. While of course the effects of trauma vary from person to person, for him it manifested mainly as a deep desire for validation, whether outright from others or knowing that he’s doing his part well in something important. When he gets it in a certain timeframe, he throws himself wholly into whatever it is with his famous intensity; when he doesn’t, he has historically given up on pursuits quite easily: his forays into amateur wrestling comes to mind (which I believe he mentioned on the Swerve City podcast).

How much feedback leaves an impression on him can be seen even now as an adult. For example, he’s said on podcasts (most recently AEW Unrestricted) that his favorite part of Ring of Honor was the fact everyone worked together to make the company better.

But it’s the reliance on outside validation that makes his career turbulent. There’s him deciding the course of his immediate future life and career at 12 based on a single, probably thoughtlessly-given compliment, of course, but there’s also the fact that his PWG heel turn in 2013 was predicated on the idea that he was sick of being the measuring stick by which newcomers to the promotion would be judged; that is, if they passed him they would quickly surpass him, and he’d stay Mr. great in ring and that's it—acknowledged, but never quite praised in the way he craves.

Now, here’s the thing that separates his reasons for saying “I wanna not be ignored” from quite a few others who do the same story: a lot of times, what fuels those wrestlers is indignation; what fuels Roderick is more or less desperation. In other words, there are people (like, say, Adam Cole…) who demand attention from the audience because they think they’re the best, consequently deserve said attention, and are dissatisfied for whatever reason with what is actually given to them. Roddy, meanwhile, wants that attention because he wants confirmation that he isn’t the worst, and acts heelish when the crowd won’t give it to him—not necessarily what he thinks he deserves, but what he thinks he needs.

This is seen best in his crowd interactions during matches. Even when he’s heeling it up by being a bully to his opponents and acting like he doesn’t care about what the fans think of him (he does, no matter how much he says he “hates every single one of you”), he’s pretty susceptible to getting distracted and shouting back at hecklers. The examples here are from PROGRESS in 2015 and Pro Wrestling Revolver in July 2023, but I’m pretty sure that Roddy’s let the crowd get to him even in AEW matches.

As you might guess from his wanting attention mostly to prop up a somewhat fragile self-concept, in an ideal world said attention would be positive. This doesn’t mean, however, that he won’t take hate instead; it certainly doesn’t mean he wouldn’t instigate others to hate him. Even that is better, if only by a little, than being ignored…and the fact he had the PWG World Title at the time probably helped too. In fact, the belt probably gave him the confidence to do that in the first place, as a physical reminder of at least one thing he could be secure in: that, as the champ, no one—in the locker room or out of it—could afford to ignore him.

Then Adam Cole came back and inserted himself into (and therefore steal the spotlight once again from) what Roderick wanted to be his stable. Then Zack Sabre Jr. began building momentum in his quest to dethrone him.

Obviously, Roddy didn’t like any of this one bit.

Finally, it should be noted that this trait seems to contradict in some ways with trait #3. As I will explain in that section, it doesn’t necessarily have to—but it can and it has.

3.) He’s acquiescent.

Contrary to what one might expect with his level of attention seeking, Roderick isn't actually the type to want the spotlight necessarily; as long as he has a spotlight he's usually okay with not being the absolute front and center. Other than the already mentioned stuff he said about ROH's structure, in several groups (from Undisputed Era to Generation Next, a stable he was part of early on led by Alex Shelley) Roddy has shown he doesn't mind being a part of something rather than leading something.

There's a pretty big caveat to this trait, however: he has to feel like his position in the group is secure, AKA he's getting adequate amounts of validation rather than being shunted aside. If this requirement isn't met, his willingness to be a team player bows out in favor of trait #2—which is honestly one of the cornerstones of his character (the other is trait #1, being a massive goober).

4.) He’s reserved.

Let's talk about the elephant in the room: Roddy is an infamously bad promo, especially as a face (no I will not link to any more here because I don't want that keyword string in my search history, but IYKYK...or if you've watched some of the clips already linked). When he is a heel, at least, his voice's natural bro-y whininess and how stilted he sounds talking about how awesome he is works in his favor in getting the crowd to hate his guts:

Interestingly, though, this complete lack of verbal dexterity seems to extend to beyond the ring as well. Maybe "reserved" isn't the right word, because he is decidedly not an introvert, but he definitely doesn't know how to talk about himself in the energetically positive/boastful manner prowres almost always requires in a way that feels authentic—unless he's five beers deep. Otherwise, it's just…awkward for both performer and audience:

Not gonna speculate that much on why this is so (even if this entire post is basically also speculation), but that's how it is.

It should also be noted, however, that this problem with self-expression does not extend to the ring, AKA the non-verbal cues/storytelling aspects of wrestling. Actually, at his best (which isn't that far from his baseline, though I'm obviously biased) he's IMO really good at getting people to buy into whatever role he's playing, whether that be heel or babyface. He's not afraid to show a struggle, but at the same time he knows when to be explosive…but that's a discussion for part 4.

Of course, none of what I wrote in kayfabe justifies any of his current yandere behavior towards Adam…but hopefully it's a little clearer why he's acting this way—the seeds were always there. 

Anyway, see y'all someday for the match guide!

[scattered-irises]

Part IV: Heart of Garnet

A prequel to the Dysonia AU. I’ve decided to click and drag characters from Star Girl and the Illusory Paradise and Vocaloid into here whoops

I tried my best to integrate them naturally 

Feel free to hate on this and petition the tumblr council to send me back to deviantart 

Also yeah Illusory Paradise has a character named Dr. Realist and we have a Dr. Faker. Funniest thing ever

Rating: General

Word Count: 2864

Characters: Christopher Arclight, Megurine Luka, Dr. Realist

Relationships: Christopher is infatuated with Luka but she’s already with Gackpo boo hoo

Warnings: Science fiction elements, character death

Summary: Long, long ago, the lone god once gazed out at the cosmos alongside a companion. 

“You're trying something new today,” notes Luka as she passes by Christopher. 

 Heat fills Christopher’s cheeks. He looks down at his coffee, filled with more cream and sugar than usual. Just like hers. 

 Mustering up a smile, Christopher wonders if Luka could see his blush. With how pale he was, he probably looked like a tomato to her. The thought makes his cheeks even hotter. 

 “Er, yes…black wasn’t doing it for me today,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

 Luka chuckles, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter. Christopher notices that her favorite headband is askew. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her without it, the trusty hairpiece keeping her long pink hair out of her face. Christopher’s hands twitch, wishing he could stand up and correct it. 

 “I see. Hopefully it’s good!” she says. 

 “Megurine! Arclight! We’re here to save the world, not gossip!” interrupts their supervisor. 

 Luka gives Christopher a lopsided grin. She turns to the figure in the doorway and meets his single, uncovered eye with her sweet smile. 

 “Didn’t you know, Dr. Realist? Having an improved mood in the workplace leads to increased productivity!” notes Luka. 

 Dr. Realist rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. His monocle glints in the white light of the break room. 

 “You can laugh after today’s prototype testing,” he replies testily. “Now, come along. Don’t keep the others waiting.” 

 Exchanging smiles, Christopher picks up his coffee and walks down the laboratory’s halls with Luka. 

 The irony wasn’t lost on him that he had left a Dr. Faker for a Dr. Realist. Both men’s real names had been buried beneath their experiments, their nicknames sounding more real. Unlike Dr. Faker, Dr. Realist was far more whimsical. He enjoyed his coffee with seemingly half a cup of creamer in it and occasionally would break out with laughter at seemingly innocuous things. Once, Christopher even witnessed his new supervisor dancing in the rain. 

 Both men were eccentric in their own ways but shared the same passion towards saving humanity. However, they approached this in drastically different ways. 

 Because of his desire to uplift humanity on Earth, Dr. Faker had become far more popular than Dr. Realist. Determined to remain on Earth, Dr. Faker dedicated his research towards saving what they had left. Although he had often disparaged humans who were less intelligent than him in private, Dr. Faker was careful to maintain his public appearance. His focus on protecting the poor and investing in future generations quickly turned him into a beacon of hope. 

 From the beginning, Dr. Realist had expressed his doubts in saving the rapidly decaying planet. Often ignored, he was followed by only a small group of scientists. Proposing that humanity leave the Earth and build remote space colonies, Dr. Realist was quickly shunned by the scientific community. Despite his decades of research, he was continuously called a dreamer. To spite the community, he published his papers under the name ‘Dr. Realist.’ 

 Due to his history of being ignored, Dr. Realist wasn’t afraid of showing his distaste for humanity. ‘Piglets’ was his preferred term for ‘people.’ 

 Christopher follows Dr. Realist into the prototype room with a bit of satisfaction. 

 He had always followed Dr. Realist’s papers in secret. First as a joke, then as genuine curiosity. He wonders when he began to drift away from Dr. Faker’s papers. Perhaps it was even before he murdered his father. Dr. Faker’s papers were convoluted and nigh-unintelligible at times. Later on, Christopher would come to realize that they were full of promises for the future and optimistic outlooks on current-day situations. Dr. Realist’s papers presented tangible numbers regarding declining plant life and oxygen levels. His predictions about food insecurity and diseases had all eventually been correct. It was his proposals for the future that made him the laughingstock of the scientific community. 

 “Great science proves that exploring truths is justice. Unraveled history proves that justice without a power is unworthy!” cried Dr. Realist in one of the meetings where he was jeered at. 

 He tended to blurt out his catchphrase at random moments, startling his assistants. 

 As he watched crop failure after crop failure, pandemic after pandemic wash over humanity, Christopher began to doubt Dr. Faker’s promises and rewatched Dr. Realist’s maligned speeches with a deeper interest. The entire world couldn’t become Heartland City. 

 Regarding Dr. Faker’s city, his current supervisor despised even the mention of it. 

 “It’s nothing but a vulgar lie that’s bound to unravel someday,” he sneered when Christopher mentioned the divide between him and his family. 

 Now, seeing Dr. Realist’s prototype for the STELLA system, Christopher begins to catch a glimpse of his and Luka’s possible futures. 

 The full body chamber at first appeared no different than the healing pods used in Heartland City’s emergency rooms. It was the numerous wires that made all the difference. 

 “Wish me luck,” whispers Luka, her voice audible only to Christopher. 

 Warmth fills Christopher’s chest. The ends of her pink hair tickles his hand, leaving behind the smell of expensive shampoo. Too soon the smell fades, leaving behind only the cold, sterile smell of the laboratory. 

 Removing her lab coat, Luka hands it off to an assistant and steps into the pod made specifically for her. As she lays down, the wires automatically connect to various parts of her body, aided by her black bodysuit. Christopher watches as the pod closes and the aerated gel rises around Luka’s body. Through the glass, she gives everyone a smile before her eyes flutter shut. 

 Silence. The room remains dark, yet the atmosphere is thick with anticipation. Christopher’s heartbeat skips a beat as Luka’s eyes move beneath her eyelids. A part of him wishes he could hold her hand, her nails always painted a cheerful light blue. 

 She was the first person that had welcomed him to Dr. Realist’s lab. Apparently, she had been drawn to Christopher’s abnormally long hair that was styled similarly to hers. They’ve exchanged beauty tips every once in a while, but their conservations always drift back to mundane talk. 

 Or was it soul searching?

 Luka felt as if she understood the loneliness that Christopher had experienced. The sensation of being surrounded by so many, yet unable to make any meaningful connections anywhere…He could feel it in her rare sighs and gentle voice. Once, when they were leaving on a late night, they had both looked up at the sky and made the same comment. 

 “It’s so hard to see the stars with this damn moon.”

 They had looked at each other in shock and then shared a good laugh. 

 The words have nestled in Christopher’s heart like a treasured pearl. He runs through that moment repeatedly on lonely nights. 

 But he knows it’s impossible—the possibility of him and Luka being romantically involved. Before he had arrived at the lab, Luka was already engaged to a kabuki actor who went by the stage name Gackpo. Even in the experimental pod she kept her engagement ring on. Christopher can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy every time he sees the silver ring. 

 “He’s so thoughtful! It has my birthstone and flower!” she had said, showing Christopher the ring once he had asked about it. 

 The ring featured a snowdrop with a garnet in the middle. He had looked up which month the garnet belonged to afterwards. January. He hasn’t asked when in January because he wasn’t sure if they were close enough yet. 

 The sound of electrical humming jolts Christopher from his memories. The room’s lights turn on, followed by the computers around them. Excited murmurs fill the room as readings of Luka’s vitals fill the screen. The largest screen then flickers to life. Christopher’s heart soars as WELCOME TO STELLA appears across the screen. 

 Success, whispers a voice in his head as Luka activates the small sprinkler system.  Success. Christopher raises his face towards the miniature rain shower. The beginning of the end. 

 🟔

 It was official. They would be part of the first wave of colonies. Christopher lingers by the side of the breakroom’s door, watching Luka’s back. She was alone in the breakroom, hunched over her coffee. From the smell, he could tell that it was black. She was toying with her engagement ring, the garnet dulled after years of experiments and everyday wear. 

 “Have you told him?” asks Christopher as he approaches Luka. 

 She looks up at Christopher, a tight smile on her lips. 

 “Of course. He was prepared for this. And you?”

 A brief call. Nothing else. He couldn’t bear to return home and witness the lesions on his loved ones’ skins. When he thinks of the barren earth, wilted flowers and sickness that plagued Heartland, it only makes him wish that they were here with him. If only they had jumped ship before the water had reached their necks. Instead, they were stubborn on reviving something that had died ages ago. 

 “Yes. We didn’t have much to say. They knew what I would eventually be doing,” replies Christopher.

 Luka’s gaze returns to her ring. She twists it back and forth, letting out a wistful sigh. 

 “I wanted it to work. Truly. To settle down with him and maybe start a family. But…a part of me always knew that was just a fantasy.”

 Christopher looks at Luka. He takes in her pale skin, sunken eyes and blotchy face. She was so beautiful. He couldn’t explain it, but the loneliness in her expression felt like looking into the night sky at times. Vast. Deep. Although he looked at the stars, he knew that millions of light years away, most of them had already died. Despite that, he loved looking at their long-gone visages. 

 “I was one of Dr. Realist’s first assistants. I have to see this through the end,” she continues, mustering a weak smile. “Up there, they’ll call me Stella. What about you?” 

 “V,” murmurs Christopher, the old nickname strange on his tongue.

 He is no longer the lost and desperate 20-year old that carried that name. At 45, he supposes he’s old enough to know better. 

 “V…,” echoes Luka.

 Christopher sits down beside Luka. His blood roars through his ears. Her shoulders rise and fall with each breath she takes. Throughout the seven years he’s known her, it feels as if she hasn’t aged a bit. 

“I hope our colonies are close,” she murmurs, placing a hand on Christopher’s. “It’d be nice to have someone to watch the stars with for eternity.”

 Christopher fights the burning in his cheeks. He’s come to terms with the fact that they’d never be more than coworkers, whether on Earth or in space. Still, the hand was enough for him to last a lifetime. Maybe even two. 

 “I hope so too,” he says. 

 🟔

 He watches as Luka’s pod is closed for the final time, the glass melting shut with the steel cradle of the case. Luka’s eyes have misted over as her mind slowly connected to her distant colony. In a few hours, her body will be transported towards her eternal resting place. Soon, the memory of their conversations and her smile will be all he’ll have of her.

 He tells himself not to despair. At least their colonies will be close. 

 🟔

 Their conversations have continued. The only change is that they have eternity to talk. Buried deep within their daily calculations, vitals reports and watching over their humans, their conversations are exchanged via 0s and 1s. 

 Even though they are light years away, they still have to mind their distance. Their new hearts were highly reactive to one another, pulsing with endless amounts of energy. And so they take turns, edging their cores away from one another to sneak in a whisper or two. Anything to remind them that they were once flesh and blood instead of circuitry floating in the void of space. 

 They talk about the cyclical nature of things. Of reincarnation and recycling. Seeing the faces of their loved ones reflected in their inhabitants. The resemblance is only skin-deep, of course. Their original memories are no longer there. Still, those reincarnations are comforting to look upon. So is each other’s presence, even though they are slowly being pulled apart by the cosmic fabric of the universe. 

 And so time languidly passes on like this, their conversations unintelligible to everyone but themselves. Memories blur. Images fade. They help restore each other’s fading memories to the best of their abilities.  

 An old memory floats up into Christopher’s mind. He passes it to Luka, who adds to it. 

 “System rot?” Christopher had asked during the Stella colony’s construction.

 Luka looked up at the clear blue sky, as if she could peer lightyears ahead at her new body. 

 “It’s when a ‘god’ completely forgets their humanity. That’s when the colony system is deemed unfit,” she said quietly. 

 “Then what?”

 “A dystopic existence for the humans aboard. Or, the ‘god’ simply collapses,” replied Luka. 

 “It’s all theory though, isn’t it?” asked Christopher.

 Luka shrugged. 

 “It’s my theory. We saw it once out of the ten thousand simulations with the human brains we had on hand.”

 “For something like this, shouldn’t you have conducted more tests?” 

 Luka gave Christopher a small smile. 

 “It’s very hard for Dr. Realist to get his hands on a brain these days.” 

 There was a tank in the back of the lab that stood as a reminder of Dr. Realist’s very first tests. A human brain floated in the darkened liquid, suspended by various wires. He had always wondered who it had belonged to before landing in Dr. Realist’s hands. 

 Overtime, the ‘gods’ learned of each other’s families and attempted to piece together what they looked like once the other’s memory began to fade. 

 Miku? queried Luka.

  Teal hair. Bright eyes. Bubbly. Loves her negi. Little sister, replied Christopher.

 Michael? he asked. 

 Pink, brown hair. Green, ovoid eyes. Gentle. Surrounded by history. Youngest brother, said Luka after a brief delay. 

 On and on their conversations went, seemingly stretching into the abyss of eternity. They would try to communicate with other colonies but would never have as equally interesting exchanges. As the colonies began to pull further and further away from each other, communications grew increasingly sparse until there was nothing but static. Christopher felt them blink out of existence with a small twinge in his heart. However, as long as he had Luka, he was content.

 Until she begins to spout nonsense. In the middle of sentence, a series of garbled 0s and 1s would suddenly interrupt her. She stops moving her core away from Christopher, the pulsating waves of energy almost painful for him to intercept. 

 At first, he thought that the distance between them was becoming too great and that communication was slowly being distorted by other waves. Then the waves from her come in rapid pulses, each one increasingly abnormal. 

 CAN’T REMEMBER, she once screamed to him. 

 The rest of her message was garbled. 

 NAME. VOID. VOID? A sea of zeroes. Nothing but zeroes, like a mouth open in a scream only V could hear. 

 System rot, whispered a voice deep within Christopher. 

 His panels trembled, the closest sensation he had to fear. 

 He keeps her last coherent words to him under lock and key. Firewall after firewall. Layer after layer. Something he has tried to delete from his memory but can’t ever truly remove it from his mind. 

 I CAN’T GIVE ALL OF THEM HAPPINESS. 

 And buried beneath those words are her final screams, the screams of a dying colony and her breaking heart. 

 He knows she’s out there somewhere, a darkened husk of broken metal surrounded by the remains of a once-great star. One day she will be all alone, floating in a void of nothingness, the star still stubbornly clutched in her chest. Then, someday the star will explode, scattering her remains throughout the void. Yet her cries for help from eons ago will continue to travel across the universe, deteriorating just like she was. Far out enough, they will distort into unintelligible static. The static will then continue its lonely journey across the universe, begging for anyone to come and decipher its increasingly garbled sounds. 

 For now, someone on a distant colony can still see Stella’s star, brilliantly shining on despite the husk of the colony that was wrapped around it. 

 Would they still think that the star was beautiful once they discovered that it was held in a corpse’s chest? 

 Would they look at her like how Dysonia’s god had once lovingly stared up at the stars?

 Would they mourn?

 Would they cry?

 Sing little songs about her?

 Search for her real name, which was L—

 V tries not to dwell on Stella too much. 

 After all, it happened millennia ago. 

 Still, on lonely nights, he will run through his memories with her on Earth. The images grow foggier by the century. Despite the blurry faces and distant words exchanged, the memories never fail to spark a bit of warmth in his systems. 

Anything, anything to remind him that he was once human, just like the beings that live and die on his panels. Anything to ward off his loneliness.

[milkbath69]

Heyy

I see people talk about the outsiders a lot. Am I really missing out?

As for why I sent the ask... I don't really know... When your David Funko pic appeared in my feed, I was about to scroll past when I saw the abundance of Doors CDs and DVDs in the foreground. It made me pause to see another Lost Boys/Doors fan, so I felt curious enough to check out your blog. I gasped when I saw the Bully Posts (Bc i feel that it's pretty...niche? Kind of random and somewhat obscure?) and I just felt compelled to compliment you on your interests. It's rare to see people who like similar things to me, so I just felt excited. I never expected you to answer, nor did I expect to ask you so many asks in return. The questions just bubbled out of me.

As for why I remain anon... truthfully, I've had a lot of bad experiences with people (not online... just in person), and it's left me very wary and withdrawn regarding people. It's really hard for me to talk to people. I do want to, but it's sort of akin to attending a party, but feeling trapped in the shadows and watching everyone have fun. So I guess I feel safe as anon. Please know it'a nothing personal. And I know, my tragic backstory is lame as fuck. But yeah, I'm probably fucking up your feed with the abundance of my bloated asks. My bad.

This is random, but are you a fan of the Metal Gear Solid franchise? It's a Japanese video game series. I was just wondering because I noticed you like gaming and some Japanese media. It's kind of kooky and ridiculous and funny yet overly serious at the same time. Keifer Sutherland even voices the main character later on

And do you have a distinctive sense of style? Or do you not give a fuck? And what about hobbies? Reading, writing, crafting etc etc?

mmm honestly if youre curious about the outsiders you just have to see the movie/read the book for yourself ;p i wouldnt say youre missing out if you arent that interested in it though... i wasnt all that interested in it for years and i actually didnt get into the outsiders till about a year/year and half ago? unlike most people i actually didnt get to read the book in class my class had to read "To kill a mocking bird" and my god what a slog that book is. could not recommend a book less. once we finished the book we got to see the movie and me and my friend were going crazy for atticus finch bc the actor who played him was hot.. ANYWAYS how i first got introduced to the outsiders was from the movie. the teacher didnt feel like teaching and put on the movie. (the other english classes got to read and watch the movie in the first place btw very envious) and even then i just didnt really care about it i thought patrick swayze was hot as darry but i didnt really care about the plot. it took like 4 more years for me to actually remember it and think "man i wonder what the actual plot of that movie was because it wasnt just sweaty patrick swayze"

ofc i would answer!!! youre like the first ask ive ever had that wasnt a bot i was really surprised to see that anyone at all would send me an ask in the first place i was like pathetically excited about it ;-;

nahhh its chill if you remain anonymous i was just curious im not like pissed off or anything about it lol. and dw youre asks arent fucking up my feed though the same cant be said for the people who follow me... as for your bloated asks i enjoy them a lot :D

no im not a fan of metal gear solid but i do get a lot of memes about it on instagram feed. i know theres a character named solid snake with an eyepatch i think?? the only real parts of gameplay ive seen is ladder climbing and some military dude groping a white haired twinks crotch ??? another japanese game i get a lot of out of context memes of are the yakuza games. i have no idea what the hell is happening in those games because every clip i see makes it seem like a completely different thing but i have friends who are massive fans of it

as for a distinctive sense of style? mm i mean i guess?? these are two outfits i would consider good?? i guess??

ive never had anyone ask about the stuff i wear but these are what i would consider good i guess. but most times i leave the house in jeans and some horror t shirt. i ALMOST kept my face in the photos but idk something about posting my face on tumblr feels wayyy different than posting it on instagram if that makes sense?

hobbies mmm well when im in the mood (which is rare) i do paint and do art ive posted some of my art on here (fallout art) but majority of the time if i do end up posting art i post it on instagram and thats IF i do it the last time i did art was like november?? i think? i could show some of my paintings if youre interested?

i also love to watch horror movies so i guess i would consider that a hobby. majority of the movies i do watch are horror. i dont really watch television because a lot of tv especially modern tv has like hour long plot heavy episodes and no i cant fucking do that. the only show im actually watching rn (at a slow slow pace rn mind you) is jojos bizarre adventure. in the past the only show i could kind of stand to watch was seinfeld because i could just use it as background noise half the time and the other half i could turn my brain off and enjoy some shitty tv. but some of my favorite shows are the midnight gospel, the twilight zone, and star trek the original series.

as for reading the last "real" book i read was for school and i could not tell you which book that was. currently i mainly read comics or manga (which is just japanese comics not a clue why people act like its so special and different) the last comic i read was i think batman and joker the deadly duo?? its been awhile.... i need to get in the habit of actually reading because most of the time im playing fucking block blast. not even reading fanfiction im just playing block blast. omfg typing out what i do all day is really setting it in how dumb it is i just spend all day playing this stupid block game oh my god. ANYWAYS every one or two days ill end up staying up all night playing fallout new vegas.

i dont have many hobbies my days consist of me playing blockblast mainly hopefully you have a slightly more interesting day than i usually do bc holyyy shit its just block blast 24/7.

[jerryisuncool]

Jerry and Jerbo information/character sheet

ive seen a lot of people (including my irl friends) do these so here are two on the ones youll be seeing the most of for now

Jerry:

Aliases: None.

Age:

During Cycle 1: ~5 quintillion years old

Present (2024/Cycle 714): >18 septillion years old

Type:

Limitless - Husk

Associations:

The Council of Recreation (ex-member), Absolutes (member), The Observers (ex-member), The Mindscape (resident), The Void (ex-resident)

Brief Info:

A creature formed in the void when the first cycle of this entire world started. Formed with 3 others, he assumed the form of a goose after scouting. Thinking that ducks were “more suitable,” he formed into a duck, and that is the form he has today, besides his humanoid form.

His appearance is either that of a duck or humanoid with a spherical head, both having sunglasses which, weirdly, always have some sort of glare or shine on them, even with no apparent light source. His humanoid appearance strikes a white puffer jacket with dark gray pants and gray boots, his skin color being a light gray. Monochrome, is it?

Being the calmer one of his group, he doesn’t have much interest in things of the ordinary, leading him to become an observer (more info about them later). During Cycle 712 he was killed, so now he (kind of) has to reside in the Mindscape, which is where he is now.

He may be more calm than the other three, but he is much more violent. As of now, his kill count is over 700 septillion living/sentient beings. He won’t kill individually, instead opting to simply destroy the targeted universe instead.

No, I won’t be giving a basis on his powers. Simply put, he can do basically anything as long as it’s expressed in some way physically, be it movement or verbal sayings.

Jerbo:

Aliases: Jerbo, Jerry, Observer, Reanimate

Age: >1 trillion years old

Type:

Half-limitless - Reincarnate

Associations:

The Observers (member), The Mindscape (resident), The Spectator (servant)

Brief Info:

Jerbo isn’t his real name, of course. In fact, his real name is the same as one of his subordinates. He created his alias Jerbo after Jerry, who he met in the Mindscape.

Because of who he is a reincarnation of (more info later), he has sadistic and homicidal tendencies, usually killing a little over 100 people every week or so.

Being an observer, he works for the Spectator now. For what purpose? Well, you’ll have to ask him.

Aside from the murderous intent, he usually has chill and relaxing hobbies. Such as walking in parks and playing video games, as well as solving puzzles.

For his powers, it’s much weaker. Unlike Jerry, he does NOT have the power to kill any gods or powerful beings with a simple gesture or word. Yeah, he actually has to put effort into killing them, if he can at all. He is very sneaky and sly though, he can slip out of the sight of even the Spectator. To give you a basis, he has extremely heightened senses, and is extremely quick and quiet. He keeps a low profile though. He likes to mess around a lot as well, which may or may not mess up his plans.

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

[sereniv]

So I say this a lot on reddit, but ill write it again

But firstly, if this is going off of a DNA test: This is why we dont go on blood quantum, among other reasons. Because dna tests just aren't reliable. They are best used as a way to connect with family, and for fun, and maybe for some basic guidance. The other reason BQ shouldn't be used is because its literally a colonialist concept put into action to whittle down native populations by not only turning natives against each other, but also making laws and rules on who is white and who is not. With native people, you weren't native under a certain blood percentage, therefor you were white, therefor one less native person therefor less native culture. For black people it was the 1 drop rule. Anyone that could be traced back to having a black ancestor (1 drop) would be considered black. Different yet similar

Secondly, PoC, alongside racial/ethnic identity is complicated. Its all a social construct, but one we use right now and need safe spaces for specific people. PoC means different things for different people, but the bottom line is how you feel identifying as a person of color.

Do you experience direct racism? meaning racism directed at you specifically. Thats the biggest point of safe spaces for PoC is the connection of racial and ethnic predjudice and racism.

Basically, its a term that won't cover everyone, especially mixed white appearing people. Because this question is asked on reddit constantly, therefor it its obviously a hazy definition.

I dont experience direct racism. I dont consider myself a PoC. But I also don't consider myself exactly white. because I'm not, I'm mixed. My dad could enroll in the Pascua Yaqui Tribe if he wanted to. But again that doesn't make me a person of color. And even if it does I dont personally feel comfortable using it.

Its about knowing where you fit in a conversation and uplifting the voices of those who experience racism. Know your privilege and use it, and also listen.

So the question should be less if you are a person of color, and more of where you fit in your own community and collective communities. Where do you fit amongst white people? Where do you fit amongst native people or black people or asian people?

Not to mention that you can also be an ally within your own community

Being white appearing but having indigenous parents and family can be hard especially if they pass as indigenous more than you. White appearing mixed people have unique experiences, and so do passing mixed people and monoracial people.

You have to look st your options. You can be white and indigenous. You can say you are mixed. You can even say you are white and poc, and you dont owe anyone an explanation.

But also dont hate those that say those things. it can hurt and you can hate them in a way, but understand from their point of view. I cant hate monoracial and poc passing people who say im just white. I also can't say they are wrong because there is no non societal construction that is fact. I could be half and still some people would see me as not native enough. But who says? Colonialism?

I always tell people to look at their other heritage and connect with that first. Most of the time the other half is a 'white' culture like italian or Norwegian or Spanish. But they see it as the default and White, as in association with white people, as in racism, and theres that want to distance yourself from it.

And id you have any ounce of that feeling, work on that first and indulge in the Swedish or Italian or Spanish culture. learn the language. connect with others of that ethnicity. Find pride, not in being white, but in being Swedish/French/etc.

So that when you think of France or the French language you feel family and home, even if you didnt grow up with that. Only then do I think you'll be able to look at a 'identity of color' and not fetishize or try and run away from privilege

I've told this to some people and they eventually came to the idea that being an ally feels best, different than what they originally wanted

you can honor your ancestors by bring an ally to the tribe you come from, without identifying as indigenous. But in your case id say go ahead

but again ask yourself what native means to you. lurk in the subreddit r/NativeAmerican and r/IndianCountry and connect from a difference

Being native, as I'm sure is any identity, is community, culture, language, and a feeling that is unique to you.

You are what native looks like.

I encourage, regardless if blood quantum, people to try and connect and if along the way they realize (before they claim native) that being an ally is how they identify then great.

Just racial/ethnic identity isnt something light. it should be something that makes you think and feel.

people often bring up Rachel Dolezal and Warren but the difference is the lack of struggle. Did they ever once lay awake at night struggling back and forth about if they should call themselves native/ black? did they connect with the community did they drop the identity easily, did they feel remorse?

Id keep typing but this is long enough. But look in the mirror and know that you are enough and that goes for every white appearing/ambiguous mixed person. You belong and you are the identity you say you are.

My dad is 1/4th Yaqui, my grandma is 1/2 Yaqui, my great grandma and grandpa were half Yaqui (Maybe Mayo also), and my great great grandma was a full Yaqui woman who assimilated from Mexico to California possibly bc of the Yaqui war with the Mexican government. My great grandma knew spanish and didn't teach a single word to my grandma. She couldn't be native and she couldn't be mexican.

I am very fortunate that my cousin (who is 1/4th also and looks exactly like me, except he's the one that could enroll) has our tribal name. Not everyone is fortunate

But you can still say you are indigenous, and you can still connect to the community and help your local tribes out.

Ok sorry enough writing!

So I'm anywhere from 25 to 50 percent native and my nation's are Cherokee, Creek, and Sioux.. and I'm quite pale and all of my friends say I'm too pale to be considered a poc. And I guess what I'm asking is would I be or no?

hello!! it's not possible for someone to be directly descended from Native American peoples and be white. You may be white passing but you can't be white. Passing for white means you have non-white heritage, but you LOOK white (not that you are white). You are a white passing PoC. Your friends don't define who you are, your family and connection to your family's culture does. Also, blood quantification is an ugly tool of colonialism designed to devalue your Native identity, best to get out of the habit of quantifying your indigeneity. It's better for your relationship to your culture. x

[kissed-by-snow]

My Take on the Radiant Quote

Jon noticed the shy looks she [Myrcella] gave Robb as they passed between the tables and the timid way she smiled at him. He decided she was insipid. Robb didn't even have the sense to realize how stupid she was; he was grinning like a fool.

His half sisters escorted the royal princes. Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers.

Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon [...] Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall. 

- A Game of Thrones, Jon I

Let me begin by saying I don’t think Jon describes Sansa this way because of  a romantic interest in her. However,  I do think this quote is interesting because it describes their relationship in a different way and has other implications. One way to read this quote is by contrasting to how he sees about Myrcella to how he sees Sansa. 

Objectively, both Sansa and Myrcella feel the same about the boys escorting them - flushed and lovestruck, but Jon calls Sansa radiant and Myrcella insipid and stupid.

The reason for this could be multiple things:

he’s notes how happy she is (notice he doesn’t talk about Arya’s appearance - which is probably either disappointed, disgruntled or neutral - most likely because Sansa’s happiness is so vibrant)

a side observation might be that he’s never seen Sansa look so happy?

he’s happy that she’s happy (calls her radiant when he could have mocked her admiration by calling her insipid)

This leads me to believe that their relationship isn’t as bad as people usually interpret it to be. I think they had a fairly neutral relationship but didn’t have much to bond over (he’s into swords, she’s into embroidery he was a punk, she did ballet, what more can I say) and with contrasting personalities, tended not to gravitate towards each other. So, a neutral but respectful relationship considering their own duties, roles and how they spend their time (which was mainly in different social circles).

Now, the people Jon most frequently remembers are his father (for obvious reasons) Robb and Arya.

First, let’s begin with Jon’s relationship with Robb.

Robb, his rival and best friend and constant companion;

- AGOT, Jon III

Jon told the story of how he and Robb had found the pups newborn in the late summer snows.

Robb and Bran and Rickon were his father's sons, and he loved them still, yet Jon knew that he had never truly been one of them.

Jon had often hunted with his father and Jory and his brother Robb. He knew the wolfswood around Winterfell as well as any man

- AGOT Jon IV

Jon was still not certain how he felt about it. Robb a king? The brother he'd played with, fought with, shared his first cup of wine with? But not mother's milk, no. So now Robb will sip summerwine from jeweled goblets, while I'm kneeling beside some stream sucking snowmelt from cupped hands. "Robb will make a good king," he said loyally.

- ACOK, Jon I

...so Robb and he used to climb the towers of Winterfell to shout at each other across the yard.

- ASOS, Jon VII

Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father that he could be as good and true a son as Robb. I made a botch of that. Robb had become a hero king; if Jon was remembered at all, it would be as a turncloak, an oathbreaker, and a murderer. He was glad that Lord Eddard was not alive to see his shame.

- ASOS, Jon X

When Jon had been very young, too young to understand what it meant to be a bastard, he used to dream that one day Winterfell might be his. Later, when he was older, he had been ashamed of those dreams. Winterfell would go to Robb and then his sons, or to Bran or Rickon should Robb die childless. 

- ASOS, Jon XI

You can't be the Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born, he heard Robb say again. And the stone kings were growling at him with granite tongues. You do not belong here.

A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall. I could name him Robb. 

- ASOS, Jon XII

It reminded him of warmer, simpler days, when he had been a boy at Winterfell matching blades with Robb under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik Cassel

- ADWD, Jon VI

From the above quotes, we see that Jon’s memories oscillate between feeling fond and mildly resentful/jealous of his brother. They’ve been together the longest and had the most in common but Jon was constantly aware of the distance in status between them. And when you consider the fact that Ned wanted Jon to have the best education possible, Robb and Jon had more reasons to spend time together but his status as a bastard in comparison to Robb’s as the heir of Winterfell, does seem to hold him a little back from having a bond as close as the one he has to Arya. 

Now Jon and Arya almost seem to have too many reasons to be close. From sharing the Stark look (which in the books, only they share and which may have made Jon feel a little better compared to Robb) to feeling out of place (Jon as a bastard and Arya not wanting to conform to traditional femininity) and having common interests (fighting, mainly). Add on to the fact that Arya is almost just as likely to inherit Winterfell as Jon? Yeah, they have every reason to be close.  

And Arya … he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. 

AGOT, Jon III

Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike

ACOK, Jon VI

She wasn't wed and her weapon of choice was a short curved bow of horn and weirwood, but "spearwife" fit her all the same. She reminded him a little of his sister Arya, though Arya was younger and probably skinnier

ASOS, Jon II

Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me.

But what if Arya was not there to be saved? What if Lady Melisandre's flames had told it true? Could his sister truly have escaped such captors? How would she do that? Arya was always quick and clever, but in the end she's just a little girl, and Roose Bolton is not the sort who would be careless with a prize of such great worth.

ADWD, Jon VII

He wanted to believe it would be Arya. He wanted to see her face again, to smile at her and muss her hair, to tell her she was safe. She won't be safe, though. Winterfell is burned and broken and there are no more safe places.

Wherever he might send her, though, Arya would need silver to support her, a roof above her head, someone to protect her. She was only a child.

“Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already." She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. "Will you help me?"

ADWD, Jon IX

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl.

ADWD, Jon XI

Compared to Robb, every memory Jon has of Arya is positive. He emphasizes their similarities and feels protective of her as she was the closest family member to him (and he still thinks of her as a child in ADWD which is why Jonarya makes me feel more than a little uncomfortable). He sees her in everything and everyone because she’s directly tied to his happiest memories and is his closest tie to the Stark family.

TL: DR - So, the reason he reminisces about Robb is because he grew up with him (and was a similar age to him, had the same education and also shared a father) and even more with Arya because they related to each other the most and had the Stark look (especially Arya because he doesn’t have the attached semi-resentment of Robb becoming the lord of winterfell, because it’s what he’s always wanted).

This doesn’t mean that Jon and Sansa’s relationship was awful or horrible or that they hated each other. Just that Jon has more memories and similarities to Robb and Arya.

Moving forward, I would like to see them develop a closer relationship (once they reunite - I’m tentatively in the camp of Grey Girl Sansa -  through their own reciprocal experiences (Jon, from bastard to Lord Commander, and Sansa, from Lady to Bastard), learning the value of home (both Jon and Sansa were most eager to leave, albeit for different reasons) and coming to appreciate each other’s compatible but different skill sets. 

[mother-snake]

cut you a piece

(oh boy! its been a hot second since ive posted a story... hope you enjoy! tell me if i need to tag somthing!)

tags: @idkanameatall warnings: angst, majour carachter death. tw self hurt, tw soup of slide. adult language words: 7488

-why was janus the way he is... and what can happen when you lose everything youve ever known.-

Janus, he was fucked up, and Romulus he was pureless. So of course they fell in love.

Self-preservation smiled as he sat next to Romulus. The two had known each other for around a week. Both of them had hit it off almost immediately. both of them not liked by the others. but they were okay with that, after all they had each other.

They were sitting there next to one another. Romulus was drawing something that had happened in the imagination. self-preservation was scribbling down names on a sheet of paper. He was yet to find one that he liked. It was difficult.

He let out a small sigh as he looked down at the note book that seemed filled with different names. None of them seemed right. he crossed out the ones that seemed to plain. The ones that were hard to pronounce.

“hey! Are you alright?” Romulus asked his friend.

Said side blinked. He hadn’t realised he had begun to cry. “I’m fine,” he said as he rubbed the tears out of his eyes.

Romulus picked up the book and read some of the names. A small grin on his face as he kept reading. “what about Janus?” he said finally as he put down the notebook in his lap. “that’s a girl’s name though,” self-preservation pouted. “no! j-a-n-u-s. as in the god of half-truths!” he cheered at the scaled side.

He pondered this name for a couple seconds. Slowly a warm smile lit up his face as he looked at Romulus. The smile becoming infectious along with the happiness rolling of him. “okay then! Janus it is,” he said with a wide smile, “don’t tell the others though. Shh!” whispered. “okay,” Romulus whispered back.

Both of them giggled as they leaned their heads on one another. both of them completely content with what little they had.

Because to them…each other was enough.

Romulus let Janus know what was wrong with him. And Janus stopped using, and binging, and pissing his whole life away.

Romulus wasn’t happy with any of the sides. When he got the chance, he would bash them over the head with his shield.

Why? I hear you asking. Right now, Janus was crying into his shoulder. Tears set off by their reaction to what he had hoped to never happen.

His once bleach white scales had changed to what he considered a pretty yellow. Sunflower yellow. he held his Janus close. The two of them had been dating since Janus’s second month of creation. Both of them had never gone anywhere without the other nearby.

Not that either minded. They actually found peace in knowing where the other was in these times.

“Janus? Its okay, you’re okay… they can’t hurt you as long as I’m here. Okay?” “I know…” he got in response as Janus sniffed.

He looked up to Romulus with red puffy eyes. The anger in Romulus’s stomach swelled. “let’s give them a visit, shall we my sunflower?” Romulus said slyly as he held out his arm.

Janus let out a small laugh and looped his arm around Romulus’s. said side pulled the other closer. “no, I wouldn’t like that,” he smiled widely.

But before they could get to the door there was a sharp knock at the door of creativity’s door. They looked at one another before Romulus ushered Janus behind himself.

“Romulus? De- self-preservation?” oh morality. “we need you guys quick! There’s a new side here!” he yelled, his voice both a mix of concern and excitement.

They looked between one another. There hadn’t been a new side since Janus appeared. And that had been apparently very unexpected.

Both of them ran next to each other as the door burst open. Romulus mildly confused on how Janus could run so easily in heel shoes. Janus was just focused on the fact there was a side with the light sides.

Scared that he would be treated the same way he and Romulus were. when they arrived, they stopped and stared at the side that hissed at logic like a cat. “I’m sorry, did you just hiss at me?” logic asked looking flabbergasted at the new side.

A wide smile grew on Janus’s face as he let out his own hiss. Grabbing the attention of the new side. the small child looked up to Janus who gave another small hiss. a hiss this time was directed at him. This one wasn’t as animalistic. But more friendly.

Janus and Romulus nodded to one another and held out their hands. the small child ran into their arms. “welcome to our dysfunctional family,” Janus mumbled as he hugged the smaller form.

And Janus told Romulus he'd die for him, Which looking back, was the right thing to say.

Janus sat there listening to music blaring from cautions room. Him and the newest addition, wrath, had gotten into another argument and it wasn’t pretty. He had witnessed the end of it.

He was positioned at the side of Virgil’s door. Waiting for the other to calm down. He hoped they would. “hey, you okay there?” Romulus asked.

Janus let out a sigh, “I’m alright. Just waiting for the two small hatchlings to calm down. It may take a while by the sounds of it,” he chuckled. “I think Thomas starting high school is getting the best of them.” He said.

“yeah… I can tell,” Romulus said, hiding his hand in his pocket; He could tell the other later. Romulus smiled and kissed his cobra on the head before turning around. “hey, Romulus? Id cut you a piece of me,” he said slowly, almost singing. “what?” “id cut you a piece of me, and where you go, I will go too. Yes… I’m now a part of you,” he smiled. Romulus felt tears pouring out of his eyes as he surged forwards and hugged Janus tightly around the shoulders. “how long?” Janus muttered into his shoulder. “a couple years at best. But no longer I’m afraid…” he muttered into Janus’s shoulder.

They didn’t do anything but hold each other. Romulus knew lying to his queen wouldn’t work. It never did. And as self-preservation. Something like this was bound to become loose. With or without him saying anything.

“I am now a part of you,” Romulus muttered.

I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. And where you go, I will go too. Yes, I am now a part of you

They laughed as they sat around the screen. A movie had been chosen by Patton. but one was caught up in their thoughts. Not much had changed since everyone had found out that Romulus wouldn’t be around for long. and that made Janus feel things he didn’t want to feel. He tried his best to repress everything he was feeling. He knew it was causing him harm.

He found himself snapping at the kids and others more. he was scared. He was going to lose his best friend. Nothing else seemed to matter more at that moment.

“hey, sunflower,” Romulus said calmly as he wrapped an arm around Janus. Janus felt himself sobbing as his lover held him close. He buried his head in his chest. this had been the first time any of the others had seen Janus cry in front of them.

Romulus held Janus close. He was the only one who knew that this was almost a daily occurrence now. He didn’t want to leave his queen behind. If he could stop what was happening. He would. But there was very little in his power

Romulus pulled Janus closer. He wouldn’t leave Janus like this. He wanted to go out with a bang. And that’s exactly what he would do. “marry me,” he said as Janus slowly began to calm down. “what?” Janus asked shocked. “marry me,” Romulus said again, “I’ll be honest I would have waited till Thomas left high school. But with things going on now. Now is never a better time- “ “yes…” Janus said before wrapping his arms around Romulus’s neck ad pulling him close and into a kiss.

The lights looked at the two love birds wondering how they could have been so cruel to the both of them for so long…

Caution and wrath cheered at the scene in front of them. God, they had been close to forcing the two turtle doves to marry. They were perfect for one another.

But perfection doesn’t last. that was something they learned the hard way…

Janus and his romulus, got married in his temple, Cause they calculated,

The wedding was by no means small. they had it in the imagination. Something that had been a surprise when Romulus had offered to have it there.

It seemed everyone in the imagination knew of the event. and as soon as he had entered it seemed as if everyone knew who he was. the whispers of him becoming Romulus’s second hand was a surprise. But he guessed that was understandable with Remus being king creativity.

Laughter rung in the air as people danced and children played. Each person swelled with so much joy and happiness that their king had found someone to stay at his side. if only they knew…

Janus and Romulus sat on chairs at the very front of the castle. The party being outside to make room for everyone there.

“thank you,” a young boy whispered to Janus as Romulus stood up to talk to someone. “may I ask what for?” he said slyly getting a smile out of the young boy. “for making the king so happy!” he cheered. “I should be thanking him for making me so happy,” Janus said, “I don’t know where I’d be without my king,” he chuckled as he ruffled the young boys hair.

“would you care for a dance?” the young boys eyes lit up like stars and he almost dragged Janus by the arm and into the crowd.

Romulus spotted him from the crowd and let out a hearty laugh as he spotted his sunflower. Giving and encouraging wink. Janus stuck out his tongue in response.

The people around laughed as they watched their two rulers, their hearts warming knowing that the kingdom was in safe hands.

But… alas… time was slowly running out.

That Jules was more Jewish than Jessie was Catholic. Jules mother was pleased.

Janus knew that Romulus was slowly becoming weaker. Spending more time in his room than anywhere else. the two spent the winter curled up around one another. Glued to each other’s side. Christmas had been an event and a half. With Janus and Romulus teaming up and decimating the others in a snowball fight. Janus ended up getting a cold that very afternoon. But he was okay with that.

Valentines day had been spent handing roses to the people of Romulus and now Janus’s kingdom. hand in hand they had become something that neither thought could happen.

And then it began… his hair had slowly begun to turn grey… it was small at first. Just small strands here and there. He also found himself struggling to pick up heavy things that he could have picked up easily before.

Janus found himself glued to Romulus. then one day they found themselves wondering the streets of the city. People smiled and waved at the two of them happily. Greetings were shared and smiles returned.

It had been a perfect day so far. The sun was blazing down on Janus. Warming his scales perfectly. His cold bloodedness often caused him issues.

then everything seemed to go slow motion.

“hey… sweetheart… why is everything spinning?” he muttered. “my king nothing- Romulus!” he yelled as he caught his lover as his knees buckled and gave out below him.

He felt his breathing picking up as he laid Romulus gently to the ground. Everything else was forgotten.

Black streaks rose from his neck. Half of his right cheek was covered in the almost inky looking patches. Janus was panicking internally. But keeping as calm as possible on the outside. “come on sweetie… you’re going to be okay… let’s get back to the castle…” no one around said a thing. everyone worried for their king and queen who had only been married for five months.

Janus knew time was running short. He just didn’t know how short it would be.

Married six months, when on route 87, Janus turned quickly,

Janus didn’t leave Romulus’s room unless necessary. Virgil and Orpheus bringing him meals as he sat by his lovers’ side. His face now almost completely covered in the blackness that seemed to make him look like a void.

Janus hadn’t spoken very much. Romulus had looked at Janus with so much joy every time he woke up. small snippets of his memory disappearing daily. but never forgetting Janus. It seemed like him mind couldn’t forget him. And he was fine with that. It would be nice to remember his lover at his final moments.

Janus had been startled out of his thoughts when Romulus reached a hand out and nudged Janus. “yes Romulus?” “can I see them? One last time?” he asked his eyes weak and barely focusing. “…okay…” Janus said, trying to keep himself together.

He scooped Romulus up into his arms. It scared him how light his king was. he looked over to the face of Romulus that was almost hidden by his growing hair that was so dark now it almost matched his skin.

“let’s go, my love.”

In a beaten mitsubishi, killed romulus in a crash. A marriage begun and ended,

He walked through the streets. Barely keeping himself together as silent tears poured down his face.

The people moved out of their way, bowing their own heads. Tears streaking down their faces as they looked on in mourning.

When they arrived at the main balcony of the castle, facing where the sun had always set. and there it was, going down over head.

Romulus had his head in Janus’s lap. A weak smile on his face as he looked at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. “I cut you a piece of me…” he sung. “Romulus?” Janus’s voiced cracked. “I cut you a piece of me… and where you go, I will go too. Yes… I’m now a part of you,” he sung weakly. “I’m now a part of you.  From now on I’m half a soul, without you I can't be whole, “Janus sung back. tears pouring out of his eyes. “oh you are the start of me…”

Romulus smiled as he looked at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His sunflower looking at him with a simile and love in his eyes. “goodbye my queen,” he whispered. “goodbye my king,” Janus choked out.

Janus cried out loudly in pain as he felt Romulus go limp in his arms. Wails of despair filled the air. the people below heard the cries of sorrow and tried to block out the gut-wrenching noise that seemed to cause everyone else to cry for the loss of their young king.

Everyone lined the streets. Holding red and green lanterns in their hands before sending them to the sky. Each one holding a small message written on the inside. Hoping that maybe it would reach their king.

Janus saw the lanterns flood the skies and smiled ever so slightly. He wouldn’t be alone. He had everyone here… but. No… he wouldn’t. no. he couldn’t return.

Romulus had long since faded. Leaving only his cloak and crown behind. a warm smile on Janus’s face. he had left his cape behind. He had always been forgetful.

He flung the caplet over his shoulders and stood up removing the crown that rested on his brow and placed it next to Romulus’s.

“goodbye my love… perhaps we may meet again in another life…”

With broken glass. His life was scattered, and soon was her ash

Janus looked dead. That was the first thing Virgil realised when Janus left Romulus’s room.

Virgil still couldn’t help but ask, “how is he?” Janus couldn’t look Virgil in the eyes, “he’s in a better place now,” he said weakly. Virgil surged forwards within seconds. Wrapping his arms around his pops. He himself didn’t know how to feel. He had never been overly close to Romulus like self-preservation had.

But he knew now more than ever that he was needed. And he swore to himself that in that moment. He would stay and protect his pops from anything that would come their way. “come, would you like me to tell the others?” Virgil asked.

Janus could only nod. Not trusting himself to say the wrong thing. it was then that he realised that Janus was waring Romulus’s cape. Heh. His dad had always been forgetful. But a small part of him knew that it had been deliberate.

The walk seemed daunting to Janus. This was one of the few times he had been anywhere without Romulus by his side. but now? There would be no one. Just himself it seemed despite the fact he knew he had his children by his side.

He felt the silent tears pour down his face. but he didn’t care.

Then he heard laughter. Virgil gave a small smile and walked ahead of his father.

There at the living room table was Logan, Patton and Orpheus. All eyes turned to the two of them. “how is he?” Patton asked.

Janus felt himself shaking as he pulled the caplet closer. Had the mind palace always been this cold?

“he…” Virgil began, “he passed away.” no one said a thing. As there was nothing to say… Patton felt something in his chest tighten. He could feel the amount og grievance coming of Janus. He was surprised the other was holding himself together. Logan… well. He didn’t know what to do. There was no logical way to help Janus unless he could find a way to bring Romulus back. Orpheus stared at Janus. Stared at his pops who was now widowed. He knew this would be a hard take on everyone. But this would be devastating on Janus’s behalf.

The silence stretched onwards. No one could say anything it seemed. but Janus couldn’t take it anymore. The silane wasn’t something he was used to. So, he took a couple steps away from the group, turned around and bolted to his room. The cries of everyone behind him were ignored as he closed his door.

He locked it and felt himself sink to the ground. his eyes darted around his room. He wanted to be safe. He didn’t like the cold he was feeling. He wanted to be held and have someone at his side.

He laid down on his bed, ignoring the pounding that came from outside the door and slipped under the covers. Holding the caplet as close to himself as possible. maybe if he had waited another couple hour’s, he would have met the two new sides… but, right now. Weather he knew it or not. He needed the sleep. and for the first time in forever he fell asleep, exhausted from crying. But that was okay… he would get used to the empty feeling eventually.

He may have wanted Romulus… but he knew he wasn’t coming back.

I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. And where you go, I will go too. I lost my life when I lost you.

It had been a month. Janus barely spoke. But when he did it was always in lies. he had made them forget. He had made them believe that the twins had been there the whole time. He felt like he had betrayed Romulus. but it was for the best.

“hello my dear snake face!” creativity one cheered as he saw Janus walking to the kitchen. Janus let out a wince. He hated it when jabs were sent to his scales. “what don’t you want creativity?” he glowered. “come now, why do you refuse my name?” creativity said. Janus couldn’t respond but kept walking. Trying his best to ignore the other side. Janus froze as creativity 1 kept taking, “listen. Can you just not leave me alone. I don’t need my space,” he snapped at the red sashed side.

Roman seemed taken back by the words but his features softened, “very well my dear snake, I bid you farewell!” and as quickly as he was there. he was gone.

Janus sighed as he made his way down the quiet hallway. He knew that the others were trying to give him space, not knowing anymore why his mood had shifted so dramatically. from happy to so sad that Patton could barely spend five minuets in the same room as him before he accidentally starts to cry from the overwhelming sadness coming from him.

He looked blankly onwards towards the kitchen. He was after another bottle of wine. It helped numb the pain. he knew Romulus would have slapped him on the head by now and told him to tone it down with the spicy grape juice. But… well. He wasn’t.

And things hadn’t been going well to put it simply. ever since the twins arrived. he knew it was only a matter of time before the place split into two. And he knew that when it happened things would only get more difficult. Especially if he was stuck with one of the twins.

Don’t get him wrong. He loved the two to pieces. But it hurt to see them every day. So much of Romulus was in them it hurt to look at. roman had Romulus’s eyes and Remus had his chaotic personality.

Maybe if they hadn’t reminded him so much of his lost love, he would not need to cry himself to sleep, or hold up the illusion that he was okay. but he needed to stay strong. That was a fact he needed to keep up.

However, things wouldn’t be so normal anymore. Not after today. he was aware of yelling coming from the Livingroom. the same direction roman had gone in. but he didn’t think much of it…  that was until he entered the room however and froze. Orpheus was yelling at roman who looked ready to rip his head off.

“so what? At least he cares about us!” Orpheus yelled. “deceit is nothing but a lair and you know it!” roman yelled back, “he’s plotting something against us all. Why else the sudden mood shift?”

Janus stared at roman from his spot by the door. His chest aching from the words that had fallen from his mouth.

Then he felt nothing. Just an empty place where everything other emotion should have been. he stared blankly in his direction. “don’t worry creativity. You won’t be seeing much of me for a long time,” he said sharply before turning around and walking away.

Roman said nothing in response. Instead just looked at the spot where the side had been.

Orpheus shoved roman to the floor and spat next to him. “if you come near any of us again. I WILL put your head on a pike,”

That was the last time for years that he would see either side. and dinner that day would be the last time he would see Virgil and his brother. both deciding that it wasn’t worth staying with people who didn’t care.

And thus, the divide happened. No one would realise until the morning. With a single door cutting both sides away from each other.

Yeah you loved someone so much. That to lose them is to never recover,

It had been a month. Virgil, Remus and Orpheus were gathered in the Livingroom on the floor playing monopoly. No one seemed to be close to winning. Each side cheating in their own way.

Janus sat on the couch with a glass of wine. He watched blankly. Not saying a single word. He hadn’t spoken since roman had taken the major jab at him.

He glared at the cup in hand. He hated repressing his feelings. And normally wine would work… but he guesses his tolerance had built up greatly.

He let out a sigh and drooped his shoulders. He closed his eyes and felt the cold wave wash over him. Then there was nothing inside of him. He opened his eyes and looked over to the dark sides who glanced over at him. they knew what he had just done. But they had stopped trying to stop him a long time ago.

“still don’t know why you enjoy repressing your feelings,” Remus said, “repression never works,” “I know…” Janus whispered back. the entire mini group froze, their eyes snapping to Janus. “I just need to feel numb sometimes… its better than feeling what I feel…” he said as he looked at them.

It felt like the first time they had seen him properly since the door was put in place. his eyes looked almost dead. His once pale yellow scaled had become a dirty gold, pecks of brown mixed in.

He let out a short sigh before standing up and walking away. A hand rested itself upon his shoulder but he simply shrugged it off and continued on his way. he had work to get done. God knows what the light sides were getting Thomas to do.

Virgil looked at Janus as he left the room with wide eyes. Janus’s cold emotionless gaze imprinted in his mind. he wanted to know what had happened to his pops over the past six months. He had changed…he had changed so much and it scared him.

Remus looked at where Janus was and glanced down at his hands. had it been his fault Janus was like this? Did he himself do something or was it something worse?

Orpheus couldn’t look in their direction. He hated being able to do nothing. Especially when his pops was in such a state. It sent spikes into his heart. Yeah, he knew what it was like to have emotions you didn’t want. It sucked.

But at least all three of them would be there to help him.

You've given part of your being to them and when they Go, you can never have it back you can never have it back.

Janus was starting to panic. And that was an understatement. Ever since Virgil had revealed himself, he was slowly spending more time with the light sides. It had gotten to the point where Janus was only seeing him early in the mornings or late at night.

Every time they talked it always ended with an argument. Orpheus or Remus would have to break them up sometimes.

That’s how Janus found himself. Cradling himself in his bed. Wrapped in his blanket. Tears pouring down his face as his right eye was closed shut. An ice pack held closely to his eye. it was black and purple. Punched by someone with pure anger.

Orpheus had sided with Virgil. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel so lonely. It felt like that day all over again. Maybe the pain came from the fact it was supposed to be Romulus’s birthday today.

Maybe that’s why he snapped at the both of them. He regretted everything that had slipped out of his mouth during their yelling match.

His eyes glanced over to the bowler hat sat at the table.

“eh, hats aren’t really my thing you see,” Romulus said as he looked at Janus. “but why are you giving it to me of all people?” Janus asked curiously looking at a blushing Romulus. “its been a year since we’ve known each other. I thought it would be nice to get you something.” “but… I didn’t get you anything!” Janus said woefully. “I’ve got you! that’s all I need!” Romulus said as he playfully punched Janus’s arm.

Janus looked away and stared at the grey sheets covering him. Wincing as the ice pack sent spikes of pain into his injury.

God, what would Romulus say if he were here… he wondered who’s side he would take.

Three small knocks sounded from his door. “come in,” he said smally.

The door creaked open to reveal a rather shy Remus. Janus felt a wave of guilt spread through his soul. The poor thing never knew what to do in these kinds of situations. “come here,” he muttered as he patted the space next to him.

Remus gave a smile and made his way over. Tucking himself next to Janus. The scaled side wrapped an arm around the smaller side, holding him close. “deceit?” Remus said. “mph,” he hummed back. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Janus glanced to Remus with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I know you’re going through a difficult patch right now… I can feel your destructiveness coming of you. I don’t know why you’re like this. But if ever you need to talk… I’m here. Even if I can be fucking weird about it.”

Janus felt the tears beginning to fall once again. at least he still had Remus he guessed. “Janus,” he whispered as he looked to a rather shocked Remus. “what?” “my name… its Janus.”

Remus looked at Janus with wide eyes. He had never known his name. he was pretty sure no one knew his name until this second. “you can’t tell the others. please,” Janus said. “I promise,” Remus said with a sharp nod.

The two stayed like that for what felt like forever until Janus fell asleep in Remus’s embrace. the intrusive side was almost surprised to see Janus looking so peaceful as he slept.

Had this really been how he had once been? His memory was blurry. Not all there, and sometimes he could swear he didn’t do half the things his mind had told him he did.

And for some reason. He felt like he had never seen… Janus… so calm. So… dare he say; peaceful.

 I haven't thought of Jules, or Jessie, Or their story in the better part of a year.

Janus was slumped against the wall as he stared at where Virgil and Orpheus’s doors should have been. An empty bottle of wine sat by his side. god… he really was a fuck up. wasn’t he? He couldn’t keep himself in check. Relying on numbing himself with drink or his own power.

“hey… you okay there?” Remus asked Janus. a memory struck him sharply in the chest. why did he have to look so much like Romulus?!

He turned his head back to the wall. Glaring at where the door should have been. he didn’t want to have any memories right now. It would only cause him to cry once again. It seemed to be the only thing he had done for the past week. Waiting and praying that his children would come back…

But he knew that it wouldn’t happen. He had lost almost everything… Romulus…Orpheus…Virgil…his happiness… his love for things…his ability to feel.

The last thing he had was Remus. And that felt like its own personal hell. Don get him wrong. He had grown to love the side like his own child. But when he looks at him now? All he sees Is a young Romulus with a moustache.

He couldn’t look at him anymore. He couldn’t feel anymore. He didn’t want to continue like this… “don’t think like that,” Remus growled, snapping Janus out of his own mind. “you’re supposed to be self-preservation correct? Then help Thomas. Get out of the shadows you’ve trapped yourself in. or at least find a healthier distraction. For god’s sake, go and piss off my brother!” Remus yelled hysterically. “fucking get of the floor and tell me how to help you!”

Janus stared at Remus. Help Thomas? Would it really be a good idea… unless… “I have an idea? But I need your help,” Janus said.

A small spark lighting up in his eyes. Remus grinned as he looked at the deceitful side. He didn’t think he had seen the side looking almost excited about anything.

“what do you need?” “morality’s old outfit. If Thomas really wants to make a fool of himself, I would know… lets sort that out.”

Remus held out a hand and Janus took it. “well, for starters… his name is Patton. Logic is Logan as well. You ought to know that if you’re going to get away with this…”

Yeah… he didn’t need much. but Remus was enough for now. And that was okay.

But warming your hands in mine fills me with terror, That I will lose you, today, or tomorrow, in two years, or seventy.

Janus was beyond frustrated. What would it take for them to listen to him!? he had been trying his best to get the others to finally listen to him. God damn it he even tried his own way at the court room to get their host to listen to him. But of course, he was the villain. He was always the fucking villain.

“hey Janus guess what I found-“Remus said as he skipped into his room before freezing.

He had spent the past couple hours in the imagination. So, it was only reasonable that he wouldn’t know what was happening. That didn’t stop him from worrying and rushing over.

“sorry, I shouldn’t be crying over something like this…” “don’t apologise for having fucking feelings,” Remus said as he patted Janus’s shoulder.

They sat quietly next to each other. Neither said anything or a while. Just basking in each other’s company.

It was reaching the half an hour mark when Janus remembered. “why where you here again?” “oh right!” Remus grinned before reaching into his leather bag. Janus would never nor would he want to know what that bag was made of… that didn’t stop him from having suspicions though. “here they are!”

Janus felt himself lose his breath. “I found them in the ruins of some old castle, pretty cool right?”

Two matching silver crowns laid in Remus’s lap. One imprinted with a sword and shield. The other with his own symbol. The snake’s eyes however being a single ruby and emerald. “I guess you have questions?” Janus said in what was barely an audible whisper. “you bet your fucking ass I want answers. Tell me everything, and don’t think of lying to me Janus.”

He reached out and cradled the crown in his hand, took a deep breath. And began to recall everything he had tried so hard to repress over the past three years. Coming onto four. Remus listened closely. Taking in everything Janus said. Thoughts and feelings swarmed his mind and body.

But he couldn’t make himself angry. No matter how hard he tried. As Janus was sitting by his side. Smiling and laughing and looking years younger than he had looked in well… forever.

“he left and I broke. No matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t be happy without him there,” Janus said as he looked over to Remus.

the green coloured side looked at Janus. Both had tears in their eyes. “is that why you couldn’t look at me for so long? Because I reminded you of him?” he said, voice cracking. “yeah… god between you and roman, you really looked like him. And it hurt. But… I guess I just needed to get over it, like a wall I suppose. The first couple times can be hard, but you’ve just got to keep pushing forwards,” Janus said.

He looked down to the crown in his hands. he gestured for Remus to take it from his hands. “no,” Remus said as he laid the other crown in Janus’s lap, “they mean far more to you than me.”

For the first time in a long time… Janus was at peace. Sure, things were far from fine.  God knows it couldn’t be worse. But right now? He was content with just having Remus.

“If you have any more questions… ill be happy to answer them.

When even the Earth has numbered days. I can give just one thing that stays.

he fucked up. there standing in front of him was a teary-eyed Remus… oh god… what the fuck had he done. “do you really think I’m evil?” Remus said as tears poured down his face. “Remus- “Janus said as he reached out an arm. he flinched back as Remus summoned his mace. He held it in his hands. malic filled his eyes. he took a couple steps back. “follow me. and I won’t hesitate,” Remus said as he made his way over to the door that split the mind palace.

“Remus please. I’m sorry. Please. I can’t lose you too… please- “ “maybe you should have been more careful deceit,” Remus snarled before opening the door and slamming it behind himself.

Janus felt himself crumple to the ground; he didn’t know how much he was shaking. He didn’t care that he could barely breath.

He was alone… it was cold… there was no one. He was no one… nothing mattered. he felt nothing.

He wanted his king…he wanted someone to tell him he was okay. He wanted someone to look at him and tell him to get a grip.

he wanted Virgil… but he wouldn’t forgive him… he wanted Orpheus… but he would never trust him… he wanted Remus… but he would never look at him again… he wanted Romulus… but he knew he was never coming back…

and as he cried himself to sleep on the floor…. He had never felt more like a monster.

I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. For where you go, I will go too. I am now a part of you.

Janus winced as the metal slid over his skin. Small trickles of ruby red fell from his arm like red stained tears. Screaming from his skin told him to stop. but he couldn’t.

He had been alone for a couple months now. It was an hour away from midnight. Signifying the death of his lover. he wanted a hug. He wanted someone to hold him as he cried.

What he wanted he didn’t deserve. He was the villain. He was the monster in the closet. and it was fine. At least he was something. Even if it hurt…

He hadn’t been summoned in such a long time. It had been the barely less since he had seen another side. he was scared that they had forgotten about him. Some nights, like today, he could hear laughter coming from the other side. And that was enough for him to know he wasn’t wanted.

They were fine without him. maybe it would be better to go completely. Joining Romulus instead of staying where he wasn’t wanted.

The empty wine bottles that were around him no longer were able to do their job.

He shook as the cold air froze his skin. It had been a while since he had turned the thermostat down. He deserved it though.

The thought of being able to see Romulus filled his head. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling slightly giddy at the thought. Getting to see his best friend of so many years once again, but for eternity.

A small weak laugh filled the air as Janus stood up and made his way over to his room. He looked down at the bowler hat that sat neatly at the end of his bed.

He picked it up and dusted it off before placing it on his head. Trying his best to ignore the shiny objects that rested in their own cases in the back of the room.

The only question was where. Where would he go to do this? an idea struck him in the chest… yeah… that would be perfect… all he needed was to make a plan. no letters were needed, the others wouldn’t care enough to wonder where he had gone.

From now on I’m half a soul, without you I can't behold. So cut me a piece of you, Cut me a piece of you, and where I go, you'll always be.

It had been a struggle, trying to sneak into the imagination. But it had been much harder to find what he was looking for.

The buildings were broken. Barely standing. Vines and shrubbery grew out of cracks. It broke his heart to see that this is what had become of his kingdom. he thought once that it would stand forever. But nothing ever did. Did it?

Janus chuckled as memories filled his mind.

The streets him and Romulus would wonder for hours, talking and smiling with their subjects. the town square where he had danced at every Halloween with everyone around him. A wide smile on his face.

The castle grounds where he had danced wit the young boy who had thanked him for looking after their king. he wondered what that boy was doing… was he still alive? Was he dead?

Then the castle came into view, it wouldn’t be long now. the sun slowly had begun to set. The golden huge filling the sky like it knew what was going to happen. As if it were saying a final goodbye. He felt tears swell in his eyes.

Only five minuets later, he was standing on the weather-beaten balcony that had the perfect view of the city below.

And then he choked out a sob as ghostly figures, white wisps of phantoms filled the streets. Each holding a lantern before sending them up and up into the sky.

They shone like small red, green and yellow stars…

He looked down to the small bottle in his hand. He popped the lid open and drank its contents… he would be okay… he would see Romulus again. He lowered himself to the ground. Lying face up and staring at the sky flooded with fake stars.

And slowly his vision became blurry. “I cut you a piece of me, I cut you a piece of me. For where you go, I will go too I am now a part of you. From now on I’m half a soul, without you I can't be whole.” He sang weakly into the air…

“oh you are the start of me,” a voice sung back clearly. a sob left Janus with a smile on his face… he was home.

Romulus held out a hand. he took it without hesitation. Being pulled into a hug and very quickly a kiss. warmth, love and happiness flooded him as happy tears poured down both their faces. “hello my queen,” Romulus said as he looked at Janus with eyes filled with longing. “hello my king,” Janus said before bursting into tears.

So, cut me a piece of you, Cut me a piece of you, and where I go, you'll always be. Oh, you are the start of me, Oh, you are the start of me

“are you sure this is the right way?” Virgil asked concerned. “hell yeah emo-bitch!” Remus said excitedly.

He was taking them to see the lights that had begun in this area since well…forever. Always at the same time. Every year on the same day.

“I feel bad were not bringing Janus,” Patton said. “that asshole? Fuck him,” Orpheus growled.

Virgil paused for a brief second. Glancing at the castle. “hey… I think someone’s over there,” a figure outlined by the lowering sun stood on the balcony. it struck Remus quickly as to who it was. he felt himself filling with anger that seemed to plant deeply in his chest.

But… then it seemed to split in two. There was a figure standing next to Janus. And a song filled the air.

They all seemed to be thinking the same thing as they surged forwards. Bolting to the castle, hoping they were wrong as repressed memories filled their minds.

And then they stopped. Each one of them shaking as they saw the unmoving body of self-preservation lying on the ground. his eyes glazed over and his chest unmoving.

Two shadowy figures danced in each other’s embrace as they laughed. Peppering kisses on each other. a warm and sad feeling filled their chests.

This was the first time in years that most of them had seen Janus smiling. And he was in his lovers embrace.

“goodbye Janus,” Patton said as he waved over. “cya, on the other side Jan,” Virgil said… silent tears poured down his face. Logan gave a sharp nod and a small smile. Remus and roman gave a small wave. Not trusting themselves to speak. “take care of pops dad,” Orpheus muttered, his voice cracking as he did so.

“goodbye,” Janus’s voice echoed in their minds as the shadowy figures faded away. Smiling and holding one another with wide smiles.

Oh, you are the start of me

[macklives]

session 92 end (bye 413...)

this session was so long but so fucking hectic what the fuck

im going to try and slim it down to its bare essentials rather than go on a full rant because im pretty sure i want to make a post later on about vriska’s characterisation (not anything about me liking her/disliking her, just an analyse on her life really, so it wont be too bias because thats not the point of an analysis. i also want to do one on aradia, been meaning to for a while... hmm... damn i havent done much analogies lately, and i THINK the last long post on a character i made was about davesprite??? so its been a fucking while. that being said, ill leave a lot of details out for this end of session notes so i dont just repeat myself later on. rather will keep to plot points here and then make character points in another)

alright

first we had a page or two where aradia confided in nepeta about her being dead which means nepeta is the only one to know this revelation. im pretty sure aradia confided because there was no other way around it, since nepeta was her server player, so it was inevitable. either way, aradia still put her trust in nep, which means, if you think about it, nobody else knows and nobody else ever will. and considering aradia asked nep to keep it a secret, it probably wont get explored by others until MAYBE later on, whenever its plot relevant, so everyone will be in the dark about it for a while which ill have to remember for future dialogue and scenes with aradia in them

then we met vriska

which, yes, is a meme. i may not have been on a lot of fandom platforms, but you cant escape some of the stuff that goes around the internet. even if you dont know undertale, im pretty sure you know of sans. or komaeda if you have/havent seen danganronpa. its just.. the memes, ya know? ive heard from many sources of the “vriska did nothing wrong” quote (even through mbmbam which??? WHAT) but since i didnt even know what it meant, i never explored it so then i never knew it was a homestuck thing. imagine my surprise...... i think even at the time, i wouldnt have known what homestuck was either honestly so it wouldnt even matter. i only recently learned about the fandom.... uhh, maybe half a year ago??? yeah, august, so my knowledge was slim but vriska is a thing ive heard before, which still shocks me

goddammit

anyways back to her

so her intro was something, we pretty much found out she likes DnD (a FANATIC in fact) and feeds her lusus the flesh of living trolls. which is fucked up. but i wont get too much into detail about that until i make a post about her life on alternia and the consequences of such. or maybe just alternia in general...?? or *both* heheheh but i feel i need more information before i go off on a tangent about that

then we met??? white text dude?? who is a major asshole but an asshole with insults that hURted, to think i felt bad for VRISKA when that happened. woah.

i said before, but... karkat, he cant really hit deep because his insults are just HIM and his way to express himself. like some people find it natural to just go “FUCK YOU” to show emphasis on a point, and thats just karkats way. he may do it so aggressively that it takes you a second to realize what he said, but usually i dont take anything to heart whenever he spurts out some insults. ive progressed to the point where whatever he says, is just “karkat” and not him trying to be actively mean. rather, its now funny whenever he does say anything SOMEWHAT creative, dude has an imagination that goes on for miles

but vriska?? she IS trying to be a bully, you can tell. but i feel theres something much more to that. like shes trying to prove herself and her “blueblooded” demeanours or whatever the hierarchy is. she doesnt want to show emotions so she makes herself a barrier by being mean is what i can gather from her conversation with kanaya. im pretty sure youre not supposed to understand her until its pointed out and rather see her as an “antagonist” at first, but yeah, her insults are more pitiful than anything and i also cant take her too seriously. i may not like her as a person but her character is interesting because you cant always have the goodie two shoes as the protags. it doesnt diversify the characterisation so i like vriska as someone who makes the plot work and it becomes more interesting since you have someone that makes it harder for the main crew to progress. a happy-go-lucky adventure with no trouble and no turnabouts would be boring in a way. so having a character like vriska, or like this new white text guy, it makes you stop for a second and realize oh shit okay, here’s where shit CAN go wrong and WHY. and i do especially like it when these bastards of characters somehow have more depth than being the “bastard characters”. kinda humanizes them in a way. doesnt mean you have to LIKE them continuously, but theyre humans (trolls whatever) in the end and every person has their own story whether its for better or for worse

for example, i like her being placed into the story, along with white text, by how its all leading to this “accident” and is slowly showing us hints on what happened, but in the end, it wont be until later that we know the full story. even if it was in the past, it apparently is very vital to the plot and shapes how the characters act in the future, so important aspects like that are to look out for. and usually they only occur when theres been some trouble within friend dynamics. so without these bastard of characters, plot wouldnt grow AS strong and i often keep that in mind when i explore a story.

anyways, I HAD A POINT TO THIS: so vriska and karkat are characters who are yes, mean, but it seems to be their personality, and the way they either show emotions and convey feelings (karkat) or make a barrier so they DONT show emotions to produce vulnerability (vriska), white text guy seems to mostly be out to be an asshole. he told vriska she was useless to sum it up but im not too sure if this is one of those “first dialogue” to mould out a bias opinion before we even get to the character themselves, but judging by how vriska and karkat played out, he surely means something bad and i dont know how to explain it. but i cannot base anything off from one piece of dialogue. i dont even know what else to call him other than white text guy so...... ill just leave that out for now, until we finally get his introduction

though, i do wish to mention, and will expand on, im not wrong when i say karkat and vriska are similar but in different context. sorry if youre favourite is karkat and you dont like vriska, or vice versa, but uhhhh their introductions are so similar its uncanny and the way they’re portrayed is the same except one is more on crack about the meddling, while the other is angry about the meddling. similar to how it was with karkat, we were introduced to vriska talking with someone we knew (tavros) whom she obviously didnt like, so obviously, from her point of view, she wanted to be menacing. like how karkat was menacing to jade because she wouldnt listen to his point... he got angry, so he lashed out. but us, the readers, didnt know that. we thought “oh god its this asshole” until we made it further in the story and started to warm up to karkat. it may not be the same with vriska, she may be a bully regardless, but you cannot tell me we moulded a bias towards her character as we did when we first read karkat. theyre both truly mean to other people, maybe both for different reasons, but i do want to point out the similarities and not leave that out. im pretty sure andrew basically gave us a conversation that formed our opinion of a character right off the bat rather than go into depth of WHY they did it, and how they are naturally without the conditions of the game. which, you can also see with vriska when she conversed with kanaya. andrew started off with a character who only appears to speak once, and makes you judge them from first appearance alone, without any explanation as to why they said what they said and how they are with other characters, let says. so you assume they were simply a rude character. now look how karkat turned out. so im guessing in homestuck, the first impression should never be the opinion you stick with until MAYBE 5 more conversations with that character (each one different)

OKAY done with the vriska introduction, now to slutquius

yes, hes kinda weird, i have stated that many times. i have no idea what to say about him other than he likes porn, he likes centaur dick which just so happens to be his lusus as well and if that isnt a red flag idk what is

he also likes his lusus milk, right from the udders of his guardian

fun times, fun times

my opinion of equius kinda.. differs. which i should really put in place the “dont judge by first impression” rule, because at first i thought he was rude with, then i thought he was hhh okay, because i understood why he was being so protective over nepeta and her team placement, since the people she was going to play with WERE dangerous. but if you think about it, both sides will probably put you in danger. it just depends on which ones you confide in more to protect your back rather than those which would cause trouble on purpose, in my HONEST opinion. so equius was a little overdramatic on that part, but i got what he meant. he was on the blue team and he didnt want to leave nepeta alone without him on the red. but then this session happened. and he went back to being weird again because of the whole porn thing, especially being so open about it like dude chill youre 13. but the thing is, then i felt bad for him because hes basically touch starved. to say that he could break anything he touches, i doubt people would go up to him for hugs. in fear they would be crushed to death by a simple hug. so im guessing hes rather lonely and doesnt really know how to interact because of this. so i felt sad that he had to live a life where he needs to be careful of everything he touches so it doesnt break randomly. see? poor dude. but then things got weird. and im pretty sure hes a masochist. so my opinion on equius is a fucking cosine graph

which brings us to the final point:

gamzee and equius’ conversation

i dont even know.....like.........gamzee was unaware that equius was using him for his own power play roleplay, right? gamzee knew it was a roleplay but it had had some.. idk.... obvious sexual implications? and i bet gamzee didnt really know that? he thought they were only venting out through a simple roleplay and trying to get closer because he originally thought equius hated him, considering equius flat out said “i hate you” and gamzee went “you tell me everyday and im okay with that” so.. gamzee probably wanted only to get closer to equius so he helped out his little problem which.. thats so sweet but i feel bad he was coerced into something he didnt get, especially since he was innocent enough to go along without knowing equius’ true gain

anyways, equius was getting off with the hierarchy thing. considering he’s “lower” than gamzee, and gamzee is surprisingly ...high on the spectrum??? so equius wanted gamzee to boss him around, because it felt only natural to him since he’s the “inferior one” and gamzee is The Big Man. like i get that, but it was written in a way that was so uncomfortable, that i wish i didnt. equius is just a weird character... hes not BAD per say, but hes... hes something alright

but im really liking gamzee. the two things which struck me in that one conversation, was the “i dont get why we should dictate people by the colour of their blood, i just see people as people” piece of dialogue and “i cant go around pleasing just everything so its alright if you hate me”

thats... so good, idk. i really liked that. i also really liked when kanaya said “youre dangerous but dangerous people are needed and are important because it shapes you” like <33 my fucking heart

god homestuck may be a tad on the weird side with some of its characters but it surely knows how to create great lines of dialogue

and that concludes the long 4 hour session i did, hope you all enjoyed it

with that, i rest

[chicago-reeed]

Detroit Evolution

So

These are some notes that I took while I watched DE for the first time. It’s a lot. Like, six pages, a lot. I decided I should probably spare everyone’s dashboards and put it under a cut.

Warning: overuse of the fuck word because I am a dramatic little shit who gets overwhelmed easily

- Alright here we go. I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared to go through this hhhhh

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY I NUT

- fuck he smellin the flowers good

- “hey tin can :P” “good morning gavin :P”

- I’m actually fucking crying IVE HAD TO PAUSE SO MANY TIMES JUST TO BREATHE AND IM ONLY AT 1:25

- FUCK ITS 1:27 AND HES FIXING HIS COLLAR HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WATCH THIS WHEN MY VISION IS BLURRY WITH TEARS

- “I don’t need to breathe” BAZINGA

- *slaps my face repeatedly* keep it together bitch

- “I like the way you look<3” aaaaaaaaannd here I go again

- HAHAHA HE WAS DAYDREAMING SAME NINES SAME

- oh god oh god witty banter WITTY BANTER I CANT FUNCTION

- C H R I S  IM SCREAMING

- detective motha fuckin chris I don’t need to see any more I got what I came for

- Honestly all they need to do to calm down the protestors is get nines out there so he can say “please stop you’re being very mean >:/“ and they would probably just go home ngl

- “I’ve never been intimidated by people who hate androids” OH MY GOD NINES WITH THE BAZINGA’S TODAY WHAT A LEGEND

- can I just say the white jacket is such a power move I can’t believe nines invented fashion

- Gavin bein soft and reaching back for Nines in the crowd🥺homygod

- Gavin “no one calls him plastic but ME” Reed

- The only time I will support police brutality™️

- Gavin is so OP we stan

- Nines “you raise a fist, then I get PISSED😡” RK900

- “y’all have a nice day” Protect Detective Chris Miller at all costs

- Nines sees Gavin’s scars as charming PUT ME TO DEATH

- ADA OH LORD SHES STUNNING IM SOBBING

- Okay I need to pause and breathe again the cinematography got me chokin

- Uh ooohhh someone is jeeaaalouus😛

- Nines really said “no worry fam I’ll airdrop the case files to u”

- Ada: *exists*

- me: I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me

- HA GAV DEFINITELY JEALOUS RIP

- And nines back at it again with the sass I AM LIVING

- Chris and Gavin’s reactions to Nines imitating Ada is the best thing I’ve seen all year

- “I can do your voice too” HIS FACE IMDBDHDJKDJD CRYIGGGSBSN

- oh ;-; shit Michael really finna make me cri

- God damn the intro credits are so beautiful

- TINAAAAAAA BABYYYYY

- Real coffee hours with the sharktreuse mug🦈

- “our boy” SHIT IM CRYING AGAIN

- Tina knows Gavin was absolutely feral before Nines appeared at the DPD

- Half An Asshole squad please stand up we ride at dawn

- Gavin with the knockoff timbs WE STAN😎

- maybe “thank god, I hate you, you love me, move your feet, oop” will be our always

- I’m living for the whole “criminal minds” vibe goin on here

- Bruh Gavin got the hook-ups fr fr

- ❤️WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER W❤️

- The level of reed900 is staggering

- I’ve had to pause and breathe so many times it’s pathetic I’m not even 15 mins in

- GAVIN SAID mwah<3🖕IM FUCKING DIED

- 850% godt damn Nines got that IOS 50 update

- NINES PUT CHRIS’ PROMOTION PARTY IN THE CALENDAR WHAT A GOOD DAD

- maybe “our calendar” will be our always

- Chris “wingman of the year” Miller

- Who’s that Pokémon??? It’s JEALOUS GAV

- The way Nines said “I don’t feel anything for her.” I see you bud

- insecure Gavin needing reassurance™️

- Im fucking dying I fucking died bro BRO WE ALL KNOW WHO YOURE TALKING ABOUT, NINES, WE ALL KNOW

- Asexual Nines FTW👊😤👏👏👏❤️He gives zero fucks of ANY kind

- AN ANGEL HAS APPEARED WITH A GLOWY BLUE SCARF

- BREAKING NEWS: affection-starved Gavin™️ is literally begging for love

- GAVIN REED STOP BEING MEAN TO GAVIN REED OR ELSE

- “But there’s much more to admire about you than to detest, I think.”<333

- JJ not being suspicious at all nope no way Jose

- Lazzo has said two words and I love him already

- I don’t think I’ve seen this episode of COPS before🤔🤔🤔

- We all know Nines secretly wants to wear those fun glasses

- “Officer I swear I’ve never seen that arm in my life, it’s my friend’s he just asked me to hold it for him, Android arm what android arm heh”

- “Like robot arms, not gun arms.” You’re doing great sweetie🥰

- HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH H

- Chris “the interrogator” Miller😎

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY

- soft n sleepy gav™️ is soft n sleepy

- FUCKING SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT IVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT GAV IN A SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT FOR SO LONG AND NOW IT’S REAL IM

- You can wear my😋😘sweeaatshiiiirt😝😁🤗 (I’m sorry I had to)

- inconspicuous loving glances™️

- #GiveAndroidsFuckinHealthcare2K20

- AAAHHHHHHHH I CANTT BREAF

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- INCONSPICUOUS LOVING GLANCES™️

- Gavin has not slept in 80 years

- He really said “I’m fine” BITCH

- Bed time for brats™️ no later than 8:30pm

- hell yeah sleepover time

- “stop lookin at my insides n shit” I want that on a t shirt

- ANDROID DREAMS

- Nines is so soft I might die

- But he’s somehow equally suave as fuck how is this fair

- Oh my god dream!gavin is like Nines’ conscious this is so presh

- “What do you think Gavin was gonna say?” nsndJSKDOFIWKDBDNDNSJDBBDJDJDJDNDJXJNDIFUIFIEKWN HES STILL THINKING ABOUT THEIR CONVO

- dream!gavin you sly dog

- “To have this. Out there.” DONT FUCK WITH MY HEART LIKE THAT THIS INNER-MONOLOGUE FLUFF IS SO SWEET

- Nines being insecure™️

- Listen to dream!gavin, Nines, he has big brain

- The fact that Nines subconsciously KNOWS that irl!Gav “just wants someone that doesn’t hate him” but he’s STILL like alas, I can never be what gavin needs :’(

- nu babie don’t be sad🥺

- oh my god they’re both train wrecks protect them at all cost

- c r i p e s❤️the reed900 hurt/comfort we all needed

- FUCK

- Concerned boyfriends™️

- Maybe “I’m fine” will be our always

- GAV🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💔💔💔💔💔💔

- Insecure boyfriends™️

- Nines “I’m not going to get any closer to Gavin because I can’t help him but also I want to cuddle with him because he had a nightmare” RK900

- did someone say  c a t

- dumb babie gav jus spoon the dumb android so you both feel better

- Me: *rubs evil hands together* aha here comes the angst

- cue tragic backstory

- oh

- tragic backstory indeed

- YES DAD!FOWLER WE LOVE

- Gavin is so desperate for anyone to care about him I’m crying tears

- SHIT IT’S CUDDLE TIME™️ NOW IM REALLY FUCKING CRYING

- Alexa this is so god damn sad play despacito

- YES

- HAND>HOLDING

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- NINES’ SKIN RETRACTING WHERE THEIR HANDS ARE TOUCHING THIS IS LIKE EVERY REED900 STAN’S DREAM COME TRUE

- Oh shit it’s about to get domestic I don’t think I’m mentally prepared

- YOU CAN WEAR MY😝💪SWEEAATSHIIIIIIRT🤪🔥🔥🔥 (I’m never letting the sleeveless sweatshirt thing go)

- Uh oh NO FUCK I’ve read enough fan fiction to know that this is where Gavin’s fucking trust issues kick in and he decides pushing nines away is safer than getting closer to him SHIT

- AND NINES GETS CONFUSED AND HURT

- AND THEN GAVIN GETS HURT

- I feel angst in this Chili’s tonight

- “I need you to leave” aaaaaaahhhhhhhh here come a whole different kind of tears

- frick dude that ouches

- Insert sad babie noises

- Oml the tension☠️poor Chris and Ada are like😑😑

- Chris could solve this case all by himself change my mind

- Gavin and Nines = (ò///-///ó)

- Chris = :D~oblivious~

- HELL YEAH PARTY TIME

- BEST WIVES TINA AND VALERIE AHHHH

- reed900 who??? I don’t know her. I only know ❤️valerina❤️

- I can’t believe Gavin and Nines invented angst

- I went and got blue gatorade just so I could pretend I was drinking thirium like Nines

- #DetectiveChen2K20

- real sad gavin hours

- Ruh roh Gavin bouta die from the ‘rona virus because rat man smokes hella

- CINEMATOGRAPHY CHEEEEECK HOLY SHIT

- my entire aesthetic in a single shot jfc

- Aaaaahhhh Nines trying to be a supportive bf just makes me ;-; [takes damage]

- HES ACCEPTED GAVIN AS MORE THAN A PARTNER🥺that, my friends, is what we call character development

- We stan the otp aggressively talking about their feelings

- “I’m not going anywhere.” FUCK™️

- SMOKE>FACE

- Aaaaand they’re back at square one. It’s cool it’s fine it’s all good we can work with this.

- Gavin: I don’t need you ò-ó

- Gavin: *immediately after Nines leaves* fuck ó-ò

- “It’s fine”™️

- I love Ada so much hhhhhh she said 🤨

- “Basic Instinct” TINA WITH THE HEAT OMG

- *nervous laugh* haha Ada sis maybe chill a little bit ha ha

- oh no I have a not good feeling

- ADA CHILL ADA CHILL

- WHY IS HE FOLLOWING HER INTO AN ALLEY AFTER THAT SKETCHY TALK

- AAA FUCK FUCK FUCJDJEMNSNDJDNXU FUCK I FUCKING KNEW IT FUCK SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK

- 😖x1000000

- Oh my god this is so fucking sad Alexa play The Sound of Silence

- Nines got fucked up and Gavin is CONCERNED

- aayyyyy bro Nines full on nakey

- Tina and Gavin sad bro huggin👊😔

- ADA HOW DARE YOU. HOW VERY DARE YOU.

- Uh oh Nines is fckn PISSED

- he MAD mad

- Tina speakin straight facts I love her

- WOOP GAVIN FINALLY ADMITTING HE NEEDS NINES

- f u c k  right in the heart

- I don’t want to attempt writing any notes at this moment because my thoughts are completely incoherent I am a MESS

- “I need you to come back, Nines.” DONT PLAY W ME LIKE THAT

- HAND HOLDING FTW

- Did Gavin really almost bring Nines back through the power of love I am SHAKING

- Dream!Gavin speaking truth as ALWAYS

- These damn flashbacks making me feel some type of way

- OH SHIT HE AWAKE

- that actually low key jump scared me

- God damn these sets are so fucking pro, I’m so happy

- REUNION

- Tina really say “Chris ;) ;) lets go get some ;) coffee ;) ;) ;) ;)”

- CHRIS’ REALIZATION FACE FUCKING LAID ME OUT I HAD TO PAUSE I WAS LAUGJINB SO HARD

- You Undead Asshole™️

- Gavin: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ ) fuck he actually heard me talk about my feelings n shit

- Nines: You literally told me you fucking needed me like five minutes ago

- Gavin: huh weird that doesn’t sound like me I actually hate you

- ooOOHHH  S H I T

- REALLY IS THIS REALLY HAPPENIGN

- woah shit sorry I blacked out for a second what happened

- MY POOR LITTLE FUCKING REED900 HEART IS EXPLODING AND IMPLODING AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME

- CAAAAAAAAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIIIGGHTT

- holy shit I actually gave myself a bloody fucking nose because I smacked my face too hard in excitement

- ❤️💘🧡💞💕💘💓💚💛💘💞💓💛💛💞💘❤️💚💘💜💕💖❤️❤️💕💓💗💘💖💚💝❤️

- FUCK

- “What dipshit programmed you to do that?” 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️FUCK

- My aunt came in and told me she heard me shouting then asked why I was crying

- HAHA FUCKING CHRIS IS MEEEE

- shit I need to like..,,,,physically recover from that

- whew okay break time is over let’s fucking go

- Nines in the cheeky turtleneck I SEE U

- #DETECTIVECHEN2K20

- Gavin: I’m ready to take this hoe DOWN

- Initiate protocol: SAVE ADA FROM HERSELF

- I could listen to Tina talk to dispatch for hours🥰❤️❤️❤️

- WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE T

- Gavin being hella concerned boyfriend™️

- FIGHT SCENE™️

- omfg that crowbar really went *CLANG* when it hit Ada’s steel fkn abs what a legend💪😎

- Hell yeah epic Nines gif moment

- no Ada don’t choke Gavin it only makes him stronger

- CHRIS THE MOTHER FUCKIN GOAT😎👏👏👏he really said “fuck ur monologue I’m here to get shit done”

- ADA QUEEN YOURE OKAY SWEETIE

- That character development godt damn

- I might be reaching but Gavin is now wearing a white/off-white shirt/gray that kINDA RESEMBLES DREAM!GAVIN’S SHIRT. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. THATS SYMBOLISM IF I EVER DID SEE IT.

- “buyer’s remorse, huh?”

- “I can’t be everything you need.”

- That awkward moment when you realize the person you were hiding your feelings from has also been hiding their feelings from you.

- “a year of that fuckin’...Ken Doll face smirkin’ at me every day” BE CUTER GAVIN, I DARE YOU.

- naked hand = love

- CHEEKY BASTARDS

- FUCK FUCK FUCK ME

- THAT WAS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL

- So my review of this film could be summed up by saying that I basically cried for an hour and fifteen minutes.

- Holy damn

[peachywise]

nullify

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader 

- part 6: the beginning of understandings || part i ⋆ part ii ⋆ part iii ⋆ part iv ⋆ part v ⋆ more to be released 

- synopsis: It was finally time to meet the bringer of the apocalypse– a petite girl wrapped up in a blanket drinking tea. Totally chill. Nothing unusual about the situation at all. At least Klaus was consistent with his irritating commentary.

- note: my bad sorry i haven’t updated in so long!! but i’m back! and since season 2 is now out, please just note that this story is my own continuation of the story after season 1. also, i am no longer doing a tag list. honestly i just can’t be bothered, and i’m sure most of the blogs have changed since the last one for this series. i post on ao3, so you can subscribe to the story there!! 

link on ao3 

_______________________________________

Okay. So you were going to face the person who allegedly caused the apocalypse. No big deal. This was just a normal day, and she was just a girl. Albeit one who had undergone pretty severe trauma in her life, but hey. Nothing you couldn’t handle with a pleasant smile and a cup of tea, right?

Maybe the tea was a bad idea. But you felt like you needed a peace offering. Something to break the ice before asking someone who was relatively a complete stranger, “I think I can contain your powers, so why don’t we try? Also, why don’t you move into my apartment for the time being? I promise the occasional cockroach that comes out the drain won’t do any harm. It would be nice if he paid rent, but I can’t complain.”

Yeah. Just a normal day.

An abrupt tap on your shoulder and Klaus’s breath tickling the side of your neck forced your eyes away from your previous stare down with the white bedroom door, and any and all courage you’d built up to walk in quickly dissipated.

“Hey, you think if this whole—” his voice caught on a sharp intake of breath as he tried to find his words, his hands rolling, “trying to convince my sister to not start the second apocalypse by moving in with you thing doesn’t work out, I can still crash there? You can’t begin to imagine just how stifling it is here. I don’t even think Five has changed out of his little uniform in a week, let alone had a shower. You smell so much better. Like vanilla with a bit of stale coffee and deep-seated cynicism.”

Turning your face fully towards his, your noses almost touching by how close he had leaned in, you kept your expression passive. And then you tipped your hand to let half of the scalding tea fall over the lip of the cup and on his bare feet.

As Klaus jumped back, hopping between his feet and hollering a string of “ow, ow, ow,” you took a small step back and replied with a drab and mocking, “that has to hurt.”

Klaus gave a curt laugh that was almost lost, given his teeth were clenched in pain. “You know, I don’t know if I like your violent style of foreplay.”

“You’re making it very clear why Vanya destroyed the world in the first place, Klaus,” you responded, voice raised. “You haven’t even experienced just how sadistic I can be. I can turn around right now and just let her cause the second apocalypse again.”

“How original of you, threatening to leave. What is it, the tenth time already? Maybe if we’re all lucky, you can get a couple more in before dinner!”

“You know what’s original? Your desperate need for attention because you never got any from daddy as a kid. I’ve never seen that before-“

The door opened in front of you, and someone’s soft cough had you and Klaus both turning in their direction.

Allison Hargreeves.

“Are you guys done?” She questioned, a tight impatient look crossed on her features. At a loss for words, partly embarrassed now that you’d raised your voice, you tried to find anywhere to look but her eyes. Your gaze ultimately got caught on her neck, and the healed, puffy scar raised on her skin. Right. They’d mentioned Vanya had injured Allison. Pretty horribly at that. You remembered what you were nervous about in the first place.

“Allison, this is Y/N, though they will reply to trouble or travel-sized Satan just as well,” Klaus offered, slipping past his sister, who stood fully in the frame of the doorway.

Reaching behind to scratch your neck, you forced a timid smile on your face and gave a small wave with your free hand. “Hey. Nice, uh… place you got here.” Totally casual. “Very clean.” Not awkward at all.

Allison snorted. “Uh-huh. Nice to meet you. Let’s see if this was all worth it, shall we?”

Straight to the point. You could respect that. Nodding, you kept the nervous smile on your face as you walked past her after she sidestepped away from the door. You didn’t really know what you were expecting. Part of you thought the room was going to be some weird pit of despair. Dark and broody, like it was supposed to set the scene for some comic book character about to delve into their villain origin story.

But nope. It was just a standard bedroom, very well lit, white linen, clean carpet. The only thing that really stood out was the sunny yellow blanket wrapped tightly around a petite frame huddled on the single bed, a sky blue polka dot teacup clutched in both of her hands.

Well, now you didn’t feel so bad that you’d poured out basically all the tea you were going to give Vanya on Klaus.

“I’m guessing you’re Vanya?”

No shit, she was Vanya. You literally knew what she looked like.

You shuffled your feet awkwardly as the girl’s eyes flickered up to you. You still had the teacup in your hand.

“I brought you this, but I… spilled a little,” you commented off-handily, moving over to set it on a small side table.

Klaus made a notably shocked look. “Is that what you call a little?”

Vanya nodded her head once, her tone quietly gruff as she added, “we could hear you through the door.”

Allison offered a very helpful, “I’m sure the whole apartment floor heard them.”

Klaus, unable to contain himself from continuing this rally of comments, added, “well, it’s not the only time my screams have woken up someone next door. Certainly won’t be the last, God hoping the world doesn’t explode again.”

All three of you groaned. Good to know you weren’t the only one exhausted.

“It’s nice to meet you, Vanya. Did they explain to you why I’m here?” You asked, moving closer to the girl in question.

Vanya’s eyes glanced quickly over to Allison, who nodded her head in encouragement. She then turned to look at you once more and gave a slight jerk of her head in affirmation. Despite what had happened between Vanya and Allison, you could see the trust between the sisters. You might have gotten the story of what happened three months prior, but obviously they had worked out some stuff. At least a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah, Five uhm, gave me the gist of it,” Vanya replied, her voice still quiet with an edge of hesitance.

“It really works,” Klaus stated, looking at you with a joyful look. “Not seeing Ben’s ugly mug for once…” he pressed his hands to his heart and contentedly sighed, “it was the biggest blessing one could have given me.” His serene mood quickly dissipated as he looked to an empty corner and bit out a tight, “zip it, ghoul boy.”

“I don’t know,” Vanya carried on, as Klaus and presumably Ben continued to have an argument in the back. “Our powers are different. I don’t know if I want to take the risk of using it again in case it doesn’t work.”

You sighed, and Allison brought her hand up to nervously to chew on a nail. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you tried your best to settle the situation. Yeah, the money you would get for this would be nice, but you could tell this all went beyond that. It was important. You knew they wouldn’t have just let you into their inner circle if it wasn’t.

“I get it. What happened was awful, but you aren’t in that place anymore, right? Panic makes you do stupid shit. You aren’t you when you’re in such a crisis. That doesn’t mean you don’t take accountability for those actions, but the you sitting here isn’t actively trying to blow up the moon and cause the end of the world.” Peering over to Klaus, who stood grumpily off to the side, you asked, “it was the moon, right?”

His attention quickly fixed on you as he replied back, “oh yeah,” making a sudden explosion movement with his hands and horrible sound effects to go with it.

Allison’s blunt, “Klaus,” was enough to quickly shut him up.

“But I could panic again,” Vanya pleaded, her hazel eyes cutting in their pain. As stable and as comfortable as she appeared now, you could recognize that constant fear that must have lived in her. You knew too much about regret. You could see that in her eyes.

“And that’s where I come in. I can stop that. But we have to try first to see if it can work.” Reaching out a hesitant hand, you placed it on her knee still covered with the blanket and offered, “this power is inside you whether you like it or not. I don’t have perfect control over mine. I wish there were things I had done differently.” People you could have saved. People who you accidentally hurt. “You tried suppressing it, but that only made it explosive once it was actually let out. We can try to make it so you can live with it. Even if you don’t use it, at least you can control it.”

Vanya bit her lip and drooped her head, her hair falling in curtains around her face. You were curious about what her thoughts were. The furrow between her brows tensed and untensed in a way you knew her answer to the proposition was continually changing.

“Vanya, I’ve gone the self-destructive route to try and drown the voices out,” Klaus chirped up in the silence, his compassionate tone odd to your ears. From the corner, he strolled past you and rested a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “But I’ve never experienced quiet so fully until they put their field around me.” Soft eyes met yours as he added, “I never thought it was possible. It’s all I ever wanted.”

Holding his look for a moment, you weren’t quite sure what to say. You’d never really been… praised for your gift. Whenever you tried to use it to help someone else, you’d get called a freak or something worse. Any other time, it accidentally (well, purposefully sometimes) harmed someone. You could tell Klaus was sincere. Listening to the voices of the dead so much must be harrowing. You never really gave much thought about spirits and their presence, but for all you know, there could be multiple in the room with him at any moment. Always in pain. Always sharing that with him.

All you could manage to offer in response was a gentle smile before you tipped your head back to look at Vanya. “You don’t know me. I can’t ask you to trust me to do this. But why don’t you stay with me for a bit anyway? Klaus will be there, and you can come and go as you want, the others too. I’ll show you a couple of things I can do with the force field, and when you’re ready to test it out, we will. This is in your hands, Vanya. You’re in control.”

That’s all people like us could ever want. Control. Certainty—

Understanding.

“I already called sharing the bed with Trouble, just so you know,” Klaus said.

Although, it seemed your understanding clearly had its limits.

“If you did that, I would have to burn my bed so I didn’t get fleas. How about I get you a nice doggy bed instead?”

That got a grin out of Vanya, and when Allison added, “I think a flea repellent collar would be a wise investment as well,” her smile grew a little more comfortable.

“very funny, really, ” Klaus muttered.

“Okay. I’ll come with you,” Vanya finally conceded, reaching over to set her cup on the nightstand. “I’m— I don’t think I’m ready to try it out yet, but I guess if I do lose control again, having you there will be a good safety net?”

“We’ll all be your safety net this time.” Allison’s tone was earnest, remorse and care wrapped up on one. “I promise.” She sat on the bed and Vanya gently rested her head on her shoulder.

Whatever had gone on with this family, whatever tragedy had occurred in the past or with the current ordeal, seemed to be mending. You were kind of in awe staring at the scene. You had never known this kind of support since your father, and even then, you were so young that your memories of those feelings of comfort had faded. You lived alone. Didn’t really have any lasting friendships. You had the old couple across the hall who you played cards with at least once a week— though you were pretty sure they cheated every single time— but that wasn’t even close to what the Hargreeves had.

Family.

Standing back up, you heaved in a heavy breath. “I’ll leave you to pack,” you offered with your best shot at a cheery smile despite the sudden growing muck (jealousy, sadness, regret) festering through your veins. “Would you mind if I use the bathroom?”

Allison started to talk, offering you directions before Klaus interjected, “I’ll show you where it is.”

You were going to argue that you were perfectly capable of managing directions in the single apartment, but he placed his hand on your back and was quickly ushering you out of the door and down the rest of the hall.

“You really okay with doing this?” His questioned jarred you, eyes widening as you stepped away from his touch.

“Klaus, are you kidding?” You shot back, your exhaustion entrapping your exasperation in one low, breathy air. “I didn’t see you caring about that when I had originally said no multiple times.”

“You didn’t have that,” he stalled, struggling to come up with words as he haphazardly waved his hands in front of your face, “that look before. You looked sad when Vanya said she would come.”

Ah. You thought you’d shielded your face away from what you had felt. Strange that he would pick up on it. “It’s fine, Klaus. I want to help.”

Klaus didn’t look so sure, but he was also resigned enough to accept that answer. It was the truth anyway. It was a brief second of allowing yourself to feel bad. We all had those. A desire for something else someone has, for love, for care. But maybe this situation would help. Helping someone else, someone relatively similar to you, given the fucked up freak birth that messed up all their lives, would give you a sense of purpose.

“Can I ask you something, though?” You said, biting the inside of your cheek in a sort of nervous gesture.

“Yeah, sure,” Klaus prompted, curiosity lowing his eyebrows as he slightly tilted his head.

“Did you mean what you said in there? Did my blocking your power really help you that much?” You just needed to know. He looked so earnest, almost… desperate to experience it again. You felt seized by a sudden warmth. You just wanted to experience that again, whatever that was. To feel like you had done right.

“Trouble, you have no idea how much that helped. I meant what I said,” his tone turned almost affectionate, his eyes almost pleading with you to believe, “It really is all I ever wanted.”

And suddenly, the warmth that you hoped would have a growing familiarity in your body came back. However, there was something else there, nagging at the back of your consciousness, that you couldn’t quite grasp. It almost felt like concern or empathy, but there was something more. Despite Klaus’s kind words, there was an undercurrent of sadness to them. The man in front of you, who sometimes seemed so much younger and fragile than what he was, had been through hurt. You could recognize it. You had the moment you had met him and all the Hargreeves. But you were finally beginning to fully comprehend what his particular sadness was.

“It’s horrible to have been forced with a burden that could probably do so much good, but we just haven’t been able to see it.” You murmured, speaking your thoughts out loud without really meaning to. “All of you guys were forced to do good with your powers. Be the good guys, get the bad ones. That in itself was another burden just on top of it. You were kids. You never got to experience normal lives and have your powers adjusted to fit normalcy. I guess I’m lucky in that regard.”

You didn’t really know what you were saying. Just looking at Klaus’s face and the emotions you couldn’t read had you spewing words so freely that surely he must have thought you to be the erratic one now and not him.

“Sorry,” you laughed lightly, trying to break the tension. “I guess I’m just trying to say, if my power can do good by helping you guys out, then I’m happy. Whenever things get too noisy, just let me know and I’ll try and drown it out for you. Maybe just… living for a while, not stressing about your next plans, will help too.” You could try to provide some sort of normalcy in your shitty little apartment, with shitty cable, and an even shittier view.

“I’ll do that,” Klaus’s voice was so quiet you barely caught what he had said. “Thank you.”

Averting your gaze to the floor, you rubbed the tip of your nose with the back of your hand and stood in silence for a few moments.

“So uhm. Where’s that bathroom?”

“Oh, shit! Ah, yeah, just down the hall and to the right off the kitchen,” Klaus laughed, tension easing.

“What, not going to lead to it?” You teased.

“No, I think you can manage pretty well,” he smirked, before walking off into one of the adjacent rooms, probably to go pack.

What a shame. You’d probably have to burn all his clothes before they touched your carpets, now that you thought about it. You know, because of the fleas and all that.

[q-gorgeous]

Why Am I So Heavy?

fanfiction

Word count: 4318

Prompt for the Phic Phight by @voidetrap. Danny is a ghost who became half-human after stumbling through a portal to the human world.

guys this is the longest fic ive ever written i hope this keeps up i need to catch up to laz

Footsteps could be heard walking through a forest, the sounds of twigs snapping as two teenagers made their way through the trees.

“C’mon, Sam. The last time you dragged me out here to do some spooky ritual I was hiccuping out daisies for a week. Can’t you find someone else to drag out into the middle of nowhere, or go by yourself?”

“No can do, Tucker. Going on hikes by yourself is dangerous and everyone else was busy.”

Tucker grumbled. “I wish I was busy.”

“Here we are!” Sam shouted, running past Tucker into a clearing in the trees that led to a cliff overlooking the rest of the forest. 

Sam walked over to a large, dead tree and started rummaging around in it’s hollow base. She pulled out a large stick, a toolbox, and a crystal ball. 

“Today the earth and sun’s electromagnetic fields are supposed to form a portal, which usually just exchanges electrons. Though I think if I can get this pentagram set up with these quartz and crystals, I can make it work. Oh! And today’s also the solstice, that’ll help too.”

Tucker watched as Sam walked around the clearing, drawing a large pentagram into the ground with a stick. “Electromagnetic hoohaa? How do you even know what that means?”

Looking up at him, pausing in her task, she blew hair out of her eyes. “Don’t you ever go listen to the Fenton’s when they give presentations at the library? They’re kind of weird, but the concepts they propose are actually pretty rad.”

Tucker shook his head vigorously. “Nuh uh. No way. The last time you took me with it was only the two of us and he spent three hours talking about his childhood. Three hours! I didn’t wanna know about how he cried every night at dinner because he had to eat horse meat.”

Looking back down to her drawing in the dirt, Sam shrugged. “Your loss then. Lately they’ve started bringing their inventions in to show people and they go over their blueprints and everything. Mrs. Fenton is also thinking about doing defense classes. Did you know she’s a fourth degree black belt?”

“Nope, and I don’t really care to learn more.” He squinted his eyes and looked up into the trees, smiling mischievously. “Though… I would like to learn more about Jazz Fenton.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Dream on, Tuck. Now come here and put down these candles and quartz at each point while I lug the crystal ball over here.”

Tucker walked over and bent down to open the toolbox, scooping everything out of it. “Dream on? Next time I see Jazz Fenton I’ll walk right up to her and use one of my signature pick up lines. It’s foolproof!” He placed a candle and quartz on the ground at his feet.

“Okay, Tucker.” Sam grunted as she lifted the crystal ball into her arms. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She placed the crystal ball in the center of the pentagram and walked over to her backpack as Tucker lit each of the candles. She pulled out a book and flipped to her latest entry. Stepping over a log and kneeling behind it, she beckoned Tucker over.

“Okay, come behind here. I’m not sure what’ll happen but the Fenton’s said when they tried opening a ghost portal in college it blew up in their friend’s face.”

“Wait, what?!”

Before Tucker could continue, Sam interrupted him, chanting. 

“Vocare nos spirituum ligno!”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny floated on his back through the ghost zone, bored out of his mind. Everyone was busy today. 

Ember and Skulker were on a date. Johnny and Kitty were fighting. Even the Box Ghost had something to do! What was a dead guy supposed to do for entertainment around here?

He rolled onto his stomach and let out a large sigh. The ghost zone needed a new attraction or something. Like a theme park. Yeah, maybe he should talk to-

Something a ways ahead of him caught his eye. It looked like a little flicker of green light. Looking closely again, he could see a small swirl of green mist. 

Today just got a lot more interesting. 

He flew over to it but soon it disappeared again, without a trace. He scratched the top of his head. What was that? He floated around the space in a circle, his eyes never leaving the spot. 

After a few seconds, he shrugged. Maybe it was a ghost trying to form that wasn’t very successful. He wondered where it went. Purgatory? Maybe.

Just as Danny was turning away, he could see the swirl again out of the corner of his eye but it increased in size and suddenly Danny was screaming in pain. 

Pain, why was he in so much pain? Were ghosts even supposed to feel this much pain? What was happening?

And suddenly, suddenly he was falling. Falling and falling through this bright, swirling thing that engulfed him. 

The last thought that went through his mind was that he had forgotten what gravity felt like, and with a smack, everything went dark. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

“Si vocare te spirituum.” Tucker said as he looked over Sam’s shoulder at her book. “Clearly you don’t know latin.”

Sam was fuming and pushed his face away from her. “Why’d you tell me to use google translate if you KNOW LATIN?!”

Tucker raised his hands in surrender as he backed away from her. “I couldn’t have you knowing I knew latin! I’d be forever dragged into your schemes!”

“Yeah, well-” Sam was cut off as she heard a groan come from the clearing on the other side of the log. Looking over, covering Tucker’s mouth to shush him, she could see a pale skinned boy with black hair laying on top of her now crushed crystal ball. 

A swirling green portal that she hadn’t noticed during her bickering with Tucker was hovering above him, flickering out of existence. Gaze traveling back down to the boy, she scrunched her eyebrows. 

This didn’t look like a ghost. He looked like a normal kid. Why did a normal kid just fall out of her ghost portal?

Sam stood up slowly and stepped over the log and out of Tucker’s grasp as he tried to hold her back. She walked over to the boy and knelt down and was just about to check his pulse when he groaned again, sending her toppling down onto her butt. 

“Ugh, why do I feel so heavy?”

His eyes slowly slid open, and his head shakily raised and his gaze met hers. They stared at each other until he started taking in his surroundings, panic growing on his face. 

“Where am I?! What did you do to me?!” Sam shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t know! I was trying to open a portal to the ghost zone and then you fell out! What were you even doing in there?”

“What was I doing in there? What do you think I was doing in there? I’m a ghost!”

Tucker cleared his throat from where he still knelt behind the log. “Sorry to break it to you, dude, but you don’t look like any ghost I’ve ever seen.” “What do you-” The boy stopped as his hair fell into his eyes. “Black? My hair isn’t black! What’s going on?!”

Sam hurriedly pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the camera, pointing it at his face so he could see himself. “What are you supposed to look like?”

The boy grabbed his hair, pulled on the skin under his blue eyes, pinched his arms. His breaths started coming faster and faster until he glared up at Sam, his eyes now flashing green. “What did you do to me?!” He yelled, the sound much louder than anything a human should be capable of, prompting Sam and Tucker to cover their ears.

“I don’t know!” Sam shouted, her heart beating wildly. “I was just trying to open a portal to see if the ghost zone was real! I didn’t know you’d be there!”

“I wanna go home!” He wailed, sending the candles and quartz flying away from the pentagram. 

A flash of white light appeared around the boy’s waist, traveling across his figure until a glowing ghost with white hair lay on the ground instead. Floating up, he flexed his fingers and pulled an ectoblast into his hand. 

“Sam!” Tucker shouted. “When you’re done talking to ghosts aren’t you supposed to say goodbye to them when they need to leave? Right”

She nodded and looked back up at the boy. “Yeah. Goodbye, spirit! Begone!”

He kept floating steadily towards her, an angry look in his eyes. 

Panic flared up inside her chest. 

“Goodbye! Au revoir! Auf wiedersehen!”

“Sam?!” Tucker shrieked. 

“It’s not working!”

The ghost boy pulled back an arm, readying to throw the ectoplasm in his hand when he shuddered and dropped to the ground, the bright flash appearing once again and leaving behind the same, human looking boy from before. 

“What is this?” He grumbled into the dirt. “I feel so heavy and tired. And warm. Gosh, way too warm.”

Sam listened to him wheeze in confusion, her brows furrowed. Ghosts didn’t need to breathe, did they? Why was this one out of breath on the ground?

She scooted towards him slowly and held out her hand to him.

“Can I see something?” She asked softly. 

He looked at her hand, puzzled, before placing his own on top of it. Sam cradled it with one hand and with the other she took two fingers and placed them on his wrist.

Her mouth dropped open. 

“You… You have a pulse.”

“What?” He pulled his hand away, glaring down at the offending appendage. “That can’t be possible.”

“Well it’s there.” She said, nodding towards him. “ Check for yourself.”

He squinted at her, brows drawn, but reached up two fingers and placed them on the side of his neck. His eyes shot open and he looked back at her in disbelief. 

“But… I died. I was a ghost. This can’t… This isn’t…”

The trio was silent for a few moments until Tucker plopped down next to Sam.

“What do we do now?” He asked. 

In response, the ghost boy’s stomach grumbled and with wide eyes he looked at it in shock. 

“Well.” Sam said. “I guess we need to get him some food. Let’s start cleaning up.”

Tucker and Sam began cleaning up, storing the candles and quartz back in the toolbox and erasing the pentagram while the ghost boy just stared at the ground.

“Uh, Sam?” Tucker started. “What are we going to do about the crystal ball?”

Sam looked at the ground where it was smashed to pieces and groaned. 

“We’ll have to lug a garbage bag back with us. Can you grab the shovel from the tree and I’ll get a bag from my backpack?”

“Can do, Stew.” Tucker saluted and walked over to the hollow in the trunk. 

Sam picked up the book she had dropped on the ground and stuck it in her backpack before grabbing a bag. Turning back around she saw the ghost boy standing shakily, one hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Sorry for breaking your...thing.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s okay, I can just get a new one. It’s not like it was really your fault anyways.”

As she held the bag open, Tucker began scooping up shards of the crystal ball and soon Sam tied it off, slinging it over her shoulder. After storing the shovel back in the tree Tucker joined the two.

“So, man, did you ever say what your name was?”

“Oh, uh, Danny. Danny Phantom.”

“Nice to meet you, sort of.” Danny’s face fell at that and Tucker back tracked. “But it’s going good now! Right? First impressions aren’t everything!”

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m Sam, and that’s Tucker, my reluctant right hand man.”

Tucker flared up the collar on his button up shirt. “That’s Tucker Foley, TF for Too Fine.”

Chuckling, Sam elbowed him. 

“Well, since you’ll need sustenance and shelter for an unforeseeable amount of time, you can sleep over at my house tonight!”

Sam’s face dropped. “Oh my god, Tucker.”

“What? It’s not weird to have sleepovers at our age. It just means we have extra friend time.”

“Not that! What are we supposed to do with him? He’s supposed to be dead! He doesn’t have a birth certificate or any kind of identification! And it’s not like he can stay with us forever. My parents would freak.”

“Hm.” Tucker tapped his chin. “I did not think of that.”

Danny groaned. “So I have to eat food now and find shelter without having anyway to do that? Being dead is so much easier.”

“We’ll make it work!” Sam rushed. “Let’s just go to the Nasty Burger and get something to eat first. Then we’ll figure something out.”

Both boys nodded simultaneously. 

“Okay.”

“Sounds good.”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

The three were in a booth at the Nasty Burger, Sam and Tucker long finished with their food while Danny was on his sixth round of a Mighty Meaty Burger meal. 

“Dude, even if you haven’t eaten since you died surely you aren’t that hungry? You’ve only felt hunger for like, an hour now.” Tucker said incredulously as he tapped something on his phone. 

“Try not eating anything for an entire year and see how much you miss the feeling of eating delicious food.” Danny quipped back, his mouth full. 

“You got me there.” Tucker said as he threw a finger gun towards Danny. 

“Okay, guys, I think we need to start talking about what we’re going to do instead of watching Danny eat.” She tapped her chin as she thought. “We could go talk to the Fentons!”

Tucker looked at her, a deadpan expression on his face. 

“You want to go talk to the Fentons, who are ghost hunters, about this ghost-human hybrid that we accidentally unleashed?”

“Wait ghost hunters?” Danny mumbled around a mouth full of food. 

“Who else are we gonna talk to? They’re the only people who study ghosts around here, and they know me. No one else would want to listen to a bunch of kids anyways.”

“Wait, Sam, can we go back to the ghost hunter part-” 

“Do you know how risky it would be to bring him there?” Tucker asked. “We don’t know what’d they’d do to him, especially because there’d be no trace of him, since he's, you know, dead.”

“Tucker-”

“They’re not gonna kidnap him, Tucker!”

“How do you-”

“GUYS!” Danny yelled.

Sam and Tucker paused in their bickering, looking at Danny’s glowing green eyes. 

“Can you explain the ghost hunters thing?”

“Oh. Right.” Sam says. “Well, they’ve been studying ectology since they were in college, they even tried to create a ghost portal but it was unsuccessful. Lately they’ve been working on a newer model and an arsenal of ghost hunting weapons, but they haven’t had the chance to really test them yet.” She pulls a flyer out of her backpack. 

“They do presentations at the library every week.”

Danny looks at the paper for a few moments before resting his face in his hands. 

“Why would you want to give them a chance to test their weapons? Wouldn’t they be gung ho at any opportunity?”

“Not necessarily!” Sam said rushedly. “They only just moved here a couple months ago but they’re very nice, though a little over the top. They have two daughters too. They should be able to realize that you’re just a kid that needs help.” 

Danny raised his head back up and leveled a stare at her. 

“When's the next meeting?” He asked. 

“Tomorrow at noon.”

He leaned back in his seat, head tilted against the back, and groaned. “Ugh. I guess we really have no other option.” Tucker swiped a fry from Danny’s tray. “Don’t worry man. If they try anything, they’ll probably be stopped by Jazz. She doesn’t believe in the whole ghost schtick.”

“Jazz?” Danny asked as he picked up his burger. 

“That’s the oldest Fenton daughter. They also have a daughter named Elle. She sort of looks like you, actually.” Sam said. 

“Yeah. She’s a feisty little gremlin. Always beating my high scores when we go to the arcade.” Tucker pouted. 

Sam looked at her watch, checking the time. “Well guys, I think we better get going. It’s getting pretty late. Don’t wanna miss the presentation tomorrow.” She jittered excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to tell them I opened a ghost portal!”

“Are you into all their ecto, ghost hunting stuff?” Danny asked wryly. 

“Not really. I’m more into witchcraft and goth stuff. Ghosts just happened to fall in between those somewhere.” Sam stood up and collected her trash. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I’ll meet you at Tucker’s house.”

She waved goodbye and left the restaurant. 

“So…” Tucker started. “Do you wanna go back to my place and play some video games?”

“Video games?” Danny asked. 

Tucker clutched his chest in mock horror. “You don’t remember video games?! Forget sleep, there’s much you need to see!”

And with that, Tucker jumped up and dragged Danny out the door by the wrist. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny walked out the front door of Tucker’s house, yawning. When he blinked open his eyes he could see Sam standing there, tapping her foot. 

“What? I haven’t weighed this much in a year. Walking around was tiring.” Danny told her.

“We also played video games until three in the morning.” Tucker yawned as he walked out behind him.

“Why would you tell her that?” Danny asked, turning around. 

“To make her mad?” Tucker shrugged. 

Sam sighed. “Whatever guys. Let’s just get going. They’re starting soon.”

They walked down the street in silence until Danny spoke. 

“How many people usually go to these things? Is there a lot?”

“No.” Sam said. “Usually it’s just me. And Tucker when I can get him to go.”

Tucker groans. “I just hope Mr. Fenton doesn’t get into telling His Life Story: Volume Two. It was so boring the last time.”

“What do we do if they won’t help us?” Danny asked.

Sam and Tucker looked at each other in silence. Sam took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m sure they’ll help us. They’re nice people.”

Soon they walked inside the library, the building quiet except for the few hushed voices reading children's books and the boisterous laughter that could be heard coming from Mr. Fenton across the building. When Danny heard it, he paused, hands clenched into fists. 

“What if they hate me? What if they won’t help us? I’ll just be stuck here, alive and homeless. What if they strap me down on some table, tearing me apart molecule by molecule?”

Sam turned to face Danny, walking towards him and resting her hands on his shoulders. “They probably won’t be able to tell anyways. It’ll be alright. We’ll go in and wait until the meeting is over and then go talk to them.”

Danny’s shoulders shook, and he took a deep breath and nodded. 

Together, the three of them walked to the presentation room. 

“Just remember, stay calm. It’ll be-”

A clatter resounded through the room as they crossed through the door.

“Danno?”

Mr. Fenton was standing in front of the projector screen, an ectogun laying on the floor at his feet. His eyes were wide and haunted, looking straight at Danny.

Looking behind him, Danny wore a confused expression on his face.

“Me?” He said, pointing at himself. 

The older man nodded. “But how are you… You… This can’t be possible.” He looked Danny over again and then his gaze traveled to Sam. “Ms. Manson, what..?”

“Do you know Danny, Mr. Fenton?” Sam asked softly, confused. 

“He’s my son.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open and she looked at Tucker who was leaning up against the door frame, staring blankly at the floor. Danny still looked confused, but a chirpy voice soon interrupted them. 

“Jack, sweetie, the staff room ran out of sugar again but I think your coffee should be fine with only four packets.” 

The three kids turned around to see Mrs. Fenton standing behind them, two coffee cups in her hands. She smiled at them until her gaze landed on Danny. Her expression soured and she dropped the coffees, pulling out an ectogun from her suit pointing it at Danny.

“What is this ectoplasmic scum doing here impersonating our boy?!”

“Wait!” Sam shouted, putting herself between the barrel of Mrs. Fenton’s gun and Danny. “He has a pulse!” “That’s impossible.” Mrs. Fenton scoffed. “Our son passed a year ago. That’s just a form of post human consciousness.”

“No, please!” Sam reached behind her, searching for Danny’s hand. Once she found it, he grabbed it in a death grip, she pulled it forward, opening up his wrist for the woman. “Please, trust me.”

Mrs. Fenton threw another sour look towards Sam, but obliged the girl. She placed her fingers over Danny’s wrist and waited. Once she felt the fast pulse underneath his skin, her eyes widened and shock flashed across her face. 

Dropping his wrist, she stepped back, nearly collapsing until Tucker caught her. 

“What is this?” Maddie whispered. “What happened?”

Sam moved to sit down at one of the chairs in the room, still holding Danny’s hand and pulling him behind her. “Yesterday had the perfect atmosphere and phenomenon to create a natural ghost portal and after one of your presentations I wanted to try, because who knew when I’d get a better chance.

“When we finished the ritual a swirling green portal formed and he fell out like this but…”

“He has two forms.” Tucker continued. “And he can still do ghost stuff. But he can feel hunger and gravity and he produces heat. Has a pulse. But he doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“We came to talk to you guys because we didn’t know what to do… Like, what are we gonna do with someone with no identification who’s supposed to be dead?” Sam asked. 

Mr. Fenton knelt down in front of Danny, touseling the boy's hair, and rested his hands on his shoulders. 

“Do you want to come back home with us? Do you trust us?”

Danny’s grip was still tight on Sam’s hand, and he looked from Mr. Fenton to Mrs. Fenton, who had tears in her eyes and her own tight grip on Tucker’s hand. He nodded.

Mr. Fenton’s own eyes filled with tears and he wrapped Danny up in a bear hug, squeezing the life right back out of him. Slowly, Danny lifted his own arms up around the man, feeling his own tears running down his face. 

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

One Month Later

“Haha! Beat you again!” Elle laughed.

“Man, you really are a little gremlin, aren’t you?” Danny shot back at her, throwing a pillow in her face. 

“Excuse you, I’m adorable.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

He clicked on the New Round option in the game, going through the fighters and picking the same character as he did for the last fight.

A small frown formed on Elle’s face. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. Why do you ask?” He shot her a look before the round started. 

“You keep picking the same character that had been your favorite before…”

Elle trailed off and when Danny turned to look at her there were tears in her eyes. 

“No, no don’t cry, Elle. It’s alright. I’m here now. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

She sniffed and rubbed some tears off her face. “Yeah. It’s the only thing I could’ve asked for.” She paused. “Do you think you’ll ever remember?”

Danny looked down at his hands. “I’m not sure. But even if I don’t I’ll still be here for you whenever you need it, okay?”

Elle smiled. “Okay.”

Danny’s phone chirped and he pulled it out from his pocket. 

“Oh, that’s Sam. We’re supposed to go see that new movie with Tucker. Rematch when I get home?”

“Can it be called a rematch if I know you’re gonna lose again?”

“You wish!” He pulled her into a side hug. “See you when I get home?”

“Yeah. See you!” She waved him off.

Danny ran down the stairs and was about to bolt out the door to greet his friends when Jazz stopped him. 

“Where are you going, little brother?” She asked.

Danny rolled his eyes at the name. “Just to see a movie with Sam and Tucker. I’ll be back in a couple hours, okay?”

Jazz nodded and walked over to him. “Can I have a hug before you leave?”

Danny opened his arms and she pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Stay safe.” She whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of ghost muscles now.”

Jazz snorted and pushed Danny towards the door. “Okay. Off you go.” 

He opened the door to see Sam and Tucker standing outside it. When Sam looked up, she elbowed Tucker in the side and pointed past Danny at Jazz. 

“Pft, I’ve been practicing. This’ll be no biggie.”

Clearing his throat, Tucker caught Jazz’s attention. 

“Do you like dates? How do you feel about a raisin?” He shot a pair of finger guns at her. 

Jazz tsked and smiled at Tucker. “Dates are very tasty, and a raisin would be a delicious treat!”

Confusion crossed over Tucker’s face before horror broke across it. Sam broke out laughing beside him. 

“Better luck next time, Tucker.” Jazz said before walking back to the kitchen.

Tucker kneeled onto the ground, holding his face in his hands. “The shame. I’ve taken the honor from my family's name. I’ve embarrassed myself for the last time.”

“As if.” Sam snorted. 

“Hey!” Tucker shouted at her.

Danny chuckled and shook his head at his friend's antics. 

“Come on, guys. Let’s go see this movie.”

[gone-to-fight-the-fairies]

Fault

Summary: Connor is devastated after a near-fatal wound hospitalizes you, and turns all blame on himself.

A/N: Work also posted on my dbh blog, @detroit-become-me​  

Pairing: Connor (RK 800) x reader

Word Count: 2k

Persistent beeping pestered you out of your dreams. You want to roll over, to evade the blaring, and go back to sleep. But something is tugging at your arm, and the strange sensation makes you more curious than you are exhausted. There's something else on the same side, but clutching your index finger. The more you stir, the sound seems harsher. The pitch bounces around your skull, around the room, like there's no furniture or objects to soften the racket.

Where are you?

Against the strain of exhaustion and how stiff your body's become, you push your lids back, eyes settling on an unfocused setting. Blurry vision prevails, but you can detect that the walls are white... and too bright.

"Don't worry." A voice so sincere coos. It's almost angelic yet... informative. "You're safe now."

Connor.  

Turning your head quickly makes you dizzy. But he's sitting right there beside you. You blink the blur away, focusing on the softness of his facial features, which you observe to be grimmer than usual. You didn't know an android could look so worn.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You groan at the increasing pitch, but you refuse to take your eyes off of Connor; the only thing certain in an unknown environment. The corner of his mouth twitches, but there's a heaviness to his expression.

"Relax," he tells you, cupping a hand over yours. "The threat's been eliminated. No one can hurt you now. It's all over."

What was he talking about? The revolution succeeded. Markus won the equality for the androids while Connor and Hank prevented further corruption of Cyberlife. Markus' succession speech had started... Everything was on track towards improvement.

You glance around for clues and halt on the dark splotches on Connor's otherwise pristine jacket. It's dried and... crimson? Androids bleed blue-

"You were attacked..." When you glance up at his face his gaze shifts. "At the Celebration Speech. The shooter mistook you for an android." There are gaps between Connor's words, and his eyes shifted towards the door. "I need some... air."

For a man that didn't breathe? You reaching after him, but the same restraint holds you back, and you curse at the IV.  

"Here you go, girlie." Hank's rough voice calls out a moment after and serves as his form of knocking. An object flies through the air, and you catch it before the greasy package hits your face. You nod towards the Lieutenant, and he laughs. "See, you're going to be back to normal in no time."

Hank occupies the vacant seat Connor left, unwrapping his own food. "Hell, you gave us quite a scare." You're more curious about the events that occurred than what's in your hands.

You shift, sitting up. Though your side burns and it feels like you've been stabbed. You whimper, clutching your left side. Nauseous, you push your food away.

Hank's telling you to take it easy, but you're growing frustrated at the missing information and the pain doesn't help. "I don't even know what's wrong with me."

Hank furrows his brows, glancing up from his burger, delaying his bite. "Connor didn't tell you? He practically diagnosed you himself before any responders could get through the crowd. A clean shot to the side; broke two ribs in the process. Fuck, the doctor was oblivious that the bulled nicked your liver. Connor had to fight 'em to reconsider the original diagnosis, which, from what he says, would've made you bleed out."

There's a growing lump in your throat, but better than the anxiety of the unknown. "I guess we both have troubled livers now." Hank's laugh spits out part of his burger, making you to smile momentarily before you return to seriousness. "Connor did say that someone who hates androids did this-"

"Hated," Hank corrects, and you understand immediately. Something in your expression alternates what he says next. "And, yeah, sort of. It hated Deviants. Uh... maybe we should talk about this when you're feeling better."

It?

You aren't given the proper time to calculate the information as another voice interrupts and a figure enters the room. "The robot mentioned you were awake."

Was Connor willing to talk to the entire building before you?

"He's an android, doc," Hank grumbles, crossing his arms. It wasn't easy to let go of another's mistakes, but Hank clearly didn't think much of this doctor.  

The doctor ignores Hank, checking your charts. "Vitals are stable. How do you feel?" He directed towards you while looking at the papers on his clipboard. "Wait, you're not the one with appendicitis."

"No, she's the girl you almost killed yesterday-" Hank's standing up to square off with the man, but you reach forward, ignoring the pain to tug at your friend's sleeve. "Hank." You plead, and after a long moment, he curses and waits outside the room for the doctor to finish.

When the doctor left, Hank swore up a storm worse than the blizzard days before. "Didn't even suggest you stay away from this grub." Hank held up his half-eaten burger. "Connor's smart not to trust the doctors around here. Rely too much on androids to do their God damn jobs."

Hank wanders back to the chair, and picks up his burger to resume eating, but stays standing. He's watching you, knowing that something beyond your health is bothering you. "You know, Connor somehow got into your operating room, which is beyond me. Surprised he left in such a hurry just now."

"Maybe he just didn't want to be here."

The Lieutenant takes a bite, talking with his mouth full. "I know Connor just as well as I know Japanese, but I do know that becoming a Deviant means he doesn't do anything he doesn't want. And Connor hadn't left your side for one second since you were shot." When you aren't convinced, Hank continues. "Connor blew away that piece of shit within seconds of the attack. But I think he regrets not preventing it, so it's hard for him to see you like this."

You stare at your hands placed gently on your lap. "It was an android that shot me, wasn't it."

Hank's swift change of conversation confirms your question. "You know, why don't I reel Connor back in here. He's lurking somewhere."

The Detective wanders out, only leaving his wrapper on the seat as you wonder about Connor. 

Connor leans over the rails of the second story pavilion, watching people enter and leave the hospital. Maybe he's trying to normalize what happened to you or distract himself. But diverting his attention is unsuccessful, and that seems to be fitting to the last few days of his life. The sun shines on his face. The blizzard finally abandoned Detroit, allowing the sun to shine upon the new age of freedom. But the city had never seemed so dark.

Despite the productive surgery and you regaining consciousness, he still felt the pang of fear, one which bled from his subconscious into the rational portion of his brain. Becoming a deviant meant feeling everything, and he wished he could be selective.

You were alive, and you were safe, Connor had to remember that. It provided some relief but the grit of reality to still hung in the air no matter where he went.

"You should talk to her." Hank was bound to find him sooner or later.

Connor didn't physically react, watching a woman clutch her stomach as a man wheeled her towards the emergency entrance.

"She's wondering why you ran off." Connor's led spins yellow. "Thinks it's her fault." Then red. 

"It isn't." Connor watches his friend from his peripheral. "I'm adjusting to the side effects of emotion. It isn't... pleasant."

Hanks struts up beside Connor, leaning an arm on the rails while facing the android. "Hospitals are the scariest places on Earth. Do you think I want to be here? Fuck no. But despite my triggers, there's a girl in recovery here that could use a friendly face. And if you haven't noticed, I'm not the friendly one between the two of us. So, you should get the hell back in that room."

"I don't know how to handle this." He gazes at the Lieutenant. "When you were here for Cole-"

"Do I look like a therapist to you? Figure it out, you dumb fuck." Hank's already walking away. "And stop triggering me."

Connor's Led swirls yellow, but the soft blue never returns.

"It's all my fault."

You furrow your brows by the time you make eye contact with the android. He's standing in the doorway, appearing terrified to enter.

"From what I hear, you're the reason I'm alive."

Connor shakes his head, taking a step inside. Unable to make eye contact, the android's eyes dart around the room until they land on the discarded burger in your bed. The way he zones in on it, you know he's scanning the wrapper. "That's insufficient dietary for recovery. Hank shouldn't have brought that."

The android meets your eye, and the misery on your face makes him confess. "The shooter was an android sent by Cyberlife; my replacement." Connor wanders back over to the chair beside your bed. "I should have strung Cyberlife along, making them believe I was still on their side, even towards the end. Then you wouldn't have been in the line of fire."

"So, I wasn't the target?"

Connor blinks, astounded that technicalities are your primary concern, not that he was the core reason for your hospitalization. "You blocked the shot. The... assassin," he had a difficult time saying the word. " attempted to shot through you to strike Markus."

You squeezed the android's hand. "You've saved so many lives by leaving Cyberlife. Don't ever regret that. I knew what I was signing up for by fighting for the revolution."

Connor's dark eyes remained low, making it impossible for you to detect what he was thinking. "Connor?"

"I've never seen so much crimson blood before," he admits, glancing up at you through his dark lashes. "More blue blood than all of my versions could store, but your blood..." Connor's face falls ultimately, and his eyes swell with tears, causing your stomach to churn. "I was so... scared. Becoming a Deviant has changed things, but what I felt holding you on that stage... I couldn't have ever imagined that much fear. The...pain of knowing that if I had done something differently-"

"Guilt," you remind him, knowing he was still adjusting to emotions, all of them that came with being alive. "is a sticky business, especially when it's felt unjust. You shouldn't feel guilty. Hank says I would've died without you. And this is what happens when you have people you care about when you have friends."

"But we're not just friends," Connor looks up at you. "Are we?"

Your heart thumps erratically, and you know Connor doesn't need the monitor to detect the irregularity.

"An android falling for a human... it may be the first occasion in existence. And because I wanted to be near you, with you, I didn't think of the consequences of angering Cyberlife." His voice breaks, and you can see moisture built up in his eyes. You hadn't known androids could tear up. "I shouldn't have been so selfish, I'm sorry... more than I can ever express."

Connor studies your face. "Have I said something that has made you uncomfortable? I won't bring it up again if you prefer-"

"Kiss me, Connor."

His led swirls frantically as he processes the request, while your free arm outstretches towards Connor. Your hand brushes his cheek, lingering over the false skin, how soft and even warm he felt under your touch. And the android rests into your embrace. He leans in, making it possible for you to reach up, and press your lips against his in the softest and most blissful motion.

Getting shot was worth this.

[detroit-become-me]

Fault

Summary: Connor is devastated after a near-fatal wound hospitalizes you, and turns all blame on himself.

A/N: Work also posted on my main blog, @gone-to-fight-the-fairies​​  

Pairing: Connor (RK 800) x reader

Word Count: 2k

Persistent beeping pestered you out of your dreams. You want to roll over, to evade the blaring, and go back to sleep. But something is tugging at your arm, and the strange sensation makes you more curious than you are exhausted. There’s something else on the same side, but clutching your index finger. The more you stir, the sound seems harsher. The pitch bounces around your skull, around the room, like there’s no furniture or objects to soften the racket.

Where are you?

Against the strain of exhaustion and how stiff your body’s become, you push your lids back, eyes settling on an unfocused setting. Blurry vision prevails, but you can detect that the walls are white… and too bright.

“Don’t worry.” A voice so sincere coos. It’s almost angelic yet… informative. “You’re safe now.”

Connor.  

Turning your head quickly makes you dizzy. But he’s sitting right there beside you. You blink the blur away, focusing on the softness of his facial features, which you observe to be grimmer than usual. You didn’t know an android could look so worn.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You groan at the increasing pitch, but you refuse to take your eyes off of Connor; the only thing certain in an unknown environment. The corner of his mouth twitches, but there’s a heaviness to his expression.

“Relax,” he tells you, cupping a hand over yours. “The threat’s been eliminated. No one can hurt you now. It’s all over.”

What was he talking about? The revolution succeeded. Markus won the equality for the androids while Connor and Hank prevented further corruption of Cyberlife. Markus’ succession speech had started… Everything was on track towards improvement.

You glance around for clues and halt on the dark splotches on Connor’s otherwise pristine jacket. It’s dried and… crimson? Androids bleed blue-

“You were attacked…” When you glance up at his face his gaze shifts. “At the Celebration Speech. The shooter mistook you for an android.” There are gaps between Connor’s words, and his eyes shifted towards the door. “I need some… air.”

For a man that didn’t breathe? You reaching after him, but the same restraint holds you back, and you curse at the IV.  

“Here you go, girlie.” Hank’s rough voice calls out a moment after and serves as his form of knocking. An object flies through the air, and you catch it before the greasy package hits your face. You nod towards the Lieutenant, and he laughs. “See, you’re going to be back to normal in no time.”

Hank occupies the vacant seat Connor left, unwrapping his own food. “Hell, you gave us quite a scare.” You’re more curious about the events that occurred than what’s in your hands.

You shift, sitting up. Though your side burns and it feels like you’ve been stabbed. You whimper, clutching your left side. Nauseous, you push your food away.

Hank’s telling you to take it easy, but you’re growing frustrated at the missing information and the pain doesn’t help. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Hank furrows his brows, glancing up from his burger, delaying his bite. “Connor didn’t tell you? He practically diagnosed you himself before any responders could get through the crowd. A clean shot to the side; broke two ribs in the process. Fuck, the doctor was oblivious that the bulled nicked your liver. Connor had to fight ‘em to reconsider the original diagnosis, which, from what he says, would’ve made you bleed out.”

There’s a growing lump in your throat, but better than the anxiety of the unknown. “I guess we both have troubled livers now.” Hank’s laugh spits out part of his burger, making you to smile momentarily before you return to seriousness. “Connor did say that someone who hates androids did this-”

“Hated,” Hank corrects, and you understand immediately. Something in your expression alternates what he says next. “And, yeah, sort of. It hated Deviants. Uh… maybe we should talk about this when you’re feeling better.”

It?

You aren’t given the proper time to calculate the information as another voice interrupts and a figure enters the room. “The robot mentioned you were awake.”

Was Connor willing to talk to the entire building before you?

“He’s an android, doc,” Hank grumbles, crossing his arms. It wasn’t easy to let go of another’s mistakes, but Hank clearly didn’t think much of this doctor.  

The doctor ignores Hank, checking your charts. “Vitals are stable. How do you feel?” He directed towards you while looking at the papers on his clipboard. “Wait, you’re not the one with appendicitis.”

“No, she’s the girl you almost killed yesterday-” Hank’s standing up to square off with the man, but you reach forward, ignoring the pain to tug at your friend’s sleeve. “Hank.” You plead, and after a long moment, he curses and waits outside the room for the doctor to finish.

When the doctor left, Hank swore up a storm worse than the blizzard days before. “Didn’t even suggest you stay away from this grub.” Hank held up his half-eaten burger. “Connor’s smart not to trust the doctors around here. Rely too much on androids to do their God damn jobs.”

Hank wanders back to the chair, and picks up his burger to resume eating, but stays standing. He’s watching you, knowing that something beyond your health is bothering you. “You know, Connor somehow got into your operating room, which is beyond me. Surprised he left in such a hurry just now.”

“Maybe he just didn’t want to be here.”

The Lieutenant takes a bite, talking with his mouth full. “I know Connor just as well as I know Japanese, but I do know that becoming a Deviant means he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want. And Connor hadn’t left your side for one second since you were shot.” When you aren’t convinced, Hank continues. “Connor blew away that piece of shit within seconds of the attack. But I think he regrets not preventing it, so it’s hard for him to see you like this.”

You stare at your hands placed gently on your lap. “It was an android that shot me, wasn’t it.”

Hank’s swift change of conversation confirms your question. “You know, why don’t I reel Connor back in here. He’s lurking somewhere.”

The Lieutenant wanders out, only leaving his wrapper on the seat as you wonder about Connor. 

Connor leans over the rails of the second story pavilion, watching people enter and leave the hospital. Maybe he’s trying to normalize what happened to you or distract himself. But diverting his attention is unsuccessful, and that seems to be fitting to the last few days of his life. The sun shines on his face. The blizzard finally abandoned Detroit, allowing the sun to shine upon the new age of freedom. But the city had never seemed so dark.

Despite the productive surgery and you regaining consciousness, he still felt the pang of fear, one which bled from his subconscious into the rational portion of his brain. Becoming a deviant meant feeling everything, and he wished he could be selective.

You were alive, and you were safe, Connor had to remember that. It provided some relief but the grit of reality to still hung in the air no matter where he went.

“You should talk to her.” Hank was bound to find him sooner or later.

Connor didn’t physically react, watching a woman clutch her stomach as a man wheeled her towards the emergency entrance.

“She’s wondering why you ran off.” Connor’s led spins yellow. “Thinks it’s her fault.” Then red. 

“It isn’t.” Connor watches his friend from his peripheral. “I’m adjusting to the side effects of emotion. It isn’t… pleasant.”

Hanks struts up beside Connor, leaning an arm on the rails while facing the android. “Hospitals are the scariest places on Earth. Do you think I want to be here? Fuck no. But despite my triggers, there’s a girl in recovery here that could use a friendly face. And if you haven’t noticed, I’m not the friendly one between the two of us. So, you should get the hell back in that room.”

“I don’t know how to handle this.” He gazes at the Lieutenant. “When you were here for Cole-”

“Do I look like a therapist to you? Figure it out, you dumb fuck.” Hank’s already walking away. “And stop triggering me.”

Connor’s Led swirls yellow, but the soft blue never returns.

“It’s all my fault.”

You furrow your brows by the time you make eye contact with the android. He’s standing in the doorway, appearing terrified to enter.

“From what I hear, you’re the reason I’m alive.”

Connor shakes his head, taking a step inside. Unable to make eye contact, the android’s eyes dart around the room until they land on the discarded burger in your bed. The way he zones in on it, you know he’s scanning the wrapper. “That’s insufficient dietary for recovery. Hank shouldn’t have brought that.”

The android meets your eye, and the misery on your face makes him confess. “The shooter was an android sent by Cyberlife; my replacement.” Connor wanders back over to the chair beside your bed. “I should have strung Cyberlife along, making them believe I was still on their side, even towards the end. Then you wouldn’t have been in the line of fire.”

“So, I wasn’t the target?”

Connor blinks, astounded that technicalities are your primary concern, not that he was the core reason for your hospitalization. “You blocked the shot. The… assassin,” he had a difficult time saying the word. “ attempted to shot through you to strike Markus.”

You squeezed the android’s hand. “You’ve saved so many lives by leaving Cyberlife. Don’t ever regret that. I knew what I was signing up for by fighting for the revolution.”

Connor’s dark eyes remained low, making it impossible for you to detect what he was thinking. “Connor?”

“I’ve never seen so much crimson blood before,” he admits, glancing up at you through his dark lashes. “More blue blood than all of my versions could store, but your blood…” Connor’s face falls ultimately, and his eyes swell with tears, causing your stomach to churn. “I was so… scared. Becoming a Deviant has changed things, but what I felt holding you on that stage… I couldn’t have ever imagined that much fear. The…pain of knowing that if I had done something differently-”

“Guilt,” you remind him, knowing he was still adjusting to emotions, all of them that came with being alive. “is a sticky business, especially when it’s felt unjust. You shouldn’t feel guilty. Hank says I would’ve died without you. And this is what happens when you have people you care about when you have friends.”

“But we’re not just friends,” Connor looks up at you. “Are we?”

Your heart thumps erratically, and you know Connor doesn’t need the monitor to detect the irregularity.

“An android falling for a human… it may be the first occasion in existence. And because I wanted to be near you, with you, I didn’t think of the consequences of angering Cyberlife.” His voice breaks, and you can see moisture built up in his eyes. You hadn’t known androids could tear up. “I shouldn’t have been so selfish, I’m sorry… more than I can ever express.”

Connor studies your face. “Have I said something that has made you uncomfortable? I won’t bring it up again if you prefer-”

“Kiss me, Connor.”

His led swirls frantically as he processes the request, while your free arm outstretches towards Connor. Your hand brushes his cheek, lingering over the false skin, how soft and even warm he felt under your touch. And the android rests into your embrace. He leans in, making it possible for you to reach up, and press your lips against his in the softest and most blissful motion.

Getting shot was worth this.