#how am i supposed to sneak in my own fucking analysis

[theprestigegirly]

how the fuck do you go from gcse english where it’s all original ideas and analysis and fun and smart to A LEVEL ENGLISH where it’s all GOOGLE CRITICS AND REMEMBER THEIR EXACT WORDS TO REFERENCE IN UR EXAM ORIGINALITY IS DEAD

[whyamiherewhosummonedme]

It's analysis time motherfuckers, because that conversation with Dream in front of the Nether Portal was INTERESTING.

So, Technoblade owes Dream a favor. We all knew that this fact would be important, and it's shaping up to be even MORE important than we thought. Let's talk about some of the most important things that could be understood from that little conversation, shall we?

First, Techno bringing up the favor in the first place, sounding very excited. This can be taken in two possible ways. One (and probably the more likely explanation) is that Technoblade the minecraft youtuber and ex-english major is extremely excited for whatever is planned to happen when that favor gets called in, and wanted to remind the audience (and Tommy) that it's a thing, which is worrying all on its own because Technoblade likes greek mythology and greek mythology is not kind. The other explanation is that Technoblade, the anarchist pigman in a world full of government, is sick and tired of Tommy constantly messing up his plans (being the opposite of stealthy when sneaking into L'manberg, dragging random violent llamas around while trying to do a mission, stealing and wasting some of the most valuable objects he has such as slowfalling potions and gapples) and wants him gone. He was excited to bring up the idea of betraying Tommy with the excuse of a favor, because it would rid him of a loud, annoying, useless thorn in his side. Remember, SBI isn't a family to Techno. Tommy isn't really a brother. Just some random kid who used him, threw him to the side after his usefulness was complete, then came running back and demanding his aid once again when he finally was forced to face some consequences. It would be a blessing for Dream to get rid of him for Techno. The pig may be manipulating him like the god before him and the musician before him, but he isn't really getting anything out of it.

Second, Dream's response. He hesitated, mulling over whether or not to do what Techno said and cash in his favor right then and there. Either he did that and brought Tommy under his grasp once more, or he saved it for later, likely to be used during or after whatever he's planning that will make everyone hate him. However, Tommy has come to realize that Dream was manipulating him, even if he hasn't really seemed to come to terms with it fully. He told Dream to his face that he was a manipulator and told the most powerful man on the server, literally God, to go fuck himself. I imagine that Dream realized that there was no way to bring Tommy back to heel - he'd gone too far in the opposite direction, intentionally not taking a damn thing seriously and being the biggest asshole he could possibly be. It would be far too much work to make this child obedient again, if he could do so at all - no, the plan had to be changed. The same trick wouldn't work twice, at least not from the same man. So, he decided to keep that favor for later, pulling on one of his backup plans. And if there's one thing Dream has shown, it's that he's never, ever unprepared. I always think back to the behind the scenes videos on Punz's channel of the Revolutionary War, and how Dream prepared for the absolute worst-case scenario and set up three separate backup plans in case something happened that he hadn't expected, none of which even needed to be used. If that's what his planning skills were like back then... Then what the hell kind of ludicrous backup plans does he have NOW?

Third, the Disc. Dream said that he got Tommy's disc Cat back from Skeppy, who's had it longer than Tommy ever did by now. This wouldn't seem to be much of something to think about, except that the last time we saw Skeppy, he'd been infected by the Crimson. He had the disc at that point, even going so far as to toss it around and threaten to burn it. And the thing is, Skeppy has not been cured. Dream didn't get the disc from Skeppy, he got it from Red Skeppy, who has declared that his only desire is for the Crimson to grow and prosper. He doesn't even care about Bad kissing other people in front of him, and burned 14 wholeass diamond blocks because he didn't care about them. How, exactly, did Dream negotiate with him? What could he have given Red Skeppy to convince him to give up Cat? And how will this affect the Crimson arc, which has been confirmed to be important to the main plotline?

And fourth, a smaller thing that still caught my interest: Dream protesting over his supposed homelessness. Now, I firmly believe that Dream is telling the truth that he does, in fact, have a base - there is no fucking way that he carries everything on him, not when he apparently has so much stuff to throw around, and also as he evidently has at least a Piglin trading farm (he gave Sam 5 or 6 stacks of enderpearls after he asked for them for the Vault construction, all the obsidian for the New L'manberg Walls, and him making it clear that he wanted to play everything legitimately in Survival Mode), likely with other farms hidden around the server (the Trident farm that he tore down after showing where it was, and the villager trading hall that Punz found under his base while cleaning out Blood Vines). There's absolutely no way that he doesn't have a hidden base, even if just to hold all his items. The only reason that he doesn't show it to Technoblade to prove that he does, in fact, have a house is because wants to keep it actually hidden, since his last hidden base was griefed constantly the moment it was found. However, while protesting and saying that he does have a base tp Techno, he stopped himself in the middle of yelling and said "you'll see, you'll see" in a much softer tone. This makes me, personally, believe that that hidden base is indeed going to be a plot point in the future, or at the very least it'll be found and explored. This then makes me wonder about what Dream hinted at before, with him having to run away after he does something that will make the entire server hate him. Will he be chased after when he runs? Will there finally be a manhunt on the SMP run by someone who grew popular for his manhunts? And if there is, will they find Dream inside of his base, or will they find it abandoned, or is it well-hidden enough that they will never find it at all, and he'll explicitly show it to someone when the time comes for a grand reveal of whatever's hidden in there? I don't know, but I look forward to whatever the plan is!

Basically, while the lore stuff was relatively short, I'm a Dream apologist and am constantly reading too much into things to try and figure out what the hell is planned in the future. No matter what, we can be certain that things will come to a head in two days. Let's watch these fireworks, shall we?

[rjhpandapaws]

When the Music Plays

Chapter 1: Jimmy's

Tw: Hank alcoholism and suicidal ideation.

A/N: just a reminder that I am playing fast and loose with Canon

Hank wasn’t the best with technology, for that and other reasons he kept clear of androids; but even he knew things were changing. Androids were going missing with more and more frequency. An alarming number of people were reporting being attacked by their androids before they disappeared. It was something bigger than programing issues he suspected, and he also knew he didn’t want to be anywhere near it when things finally fell apart. As usual though it seemed fate wasn’t all that inclined to listen to him. He was doing what he normally did on days like this; avoiding his responsibilities and making a valiant attempt to drown whatever braincells were stubborn enough to stick around. Old Fashioned had gotten too complicated a few hours back so he had moved on to straight whiskey hoping that his consciousness would get the hint and move on as well. He’d pass out at the bar in his usual fashion and Jimmy would wake him up at last call; he’d drive home and pray to get in a wreck, feed Sumo if he survived, sleep, then repeat everything again if he woke up again. Except that tonight his consciousness was too stubborn to leave. He was hunched over the bar, all but face first in his whiskey when Jimmy’s hand came into his line of sight. Once he had Hank’s attention he pointed over his shoulder. Hank turned to look, and standing right there in his sanctuary was a fucking android. Fucking fantastic.

The things Hank has liked about Jimmy’s had been that there were no androids allowed on the premises and everyone would mind their own damn business, too busy drinking to worry about what was happening around them. Except now there was an android in the middle of the bar and everyone was staring at him. What had been a sanctuary was no longer safe. The android was talking and the nice thing about being Deaf was that he could easily ignore him simply by not looking at him. So he turned back to the bar to continue nursing his whiskey. The thing had the nerve to sit beside him. It gave Hank time to finish his whiskey before it tapped on his shoulder to get his attention. Hank thought about trying to ignore him again, but he had the sneaking suspicion that wasn’t going to work. It had after all made itself at home in a clearly anti android bar. It was either here for him, had no sense of self preservation; or if Hank was particularly unlucky, both. He sighed and turned to face the android. Immediately it started talking again. Hank withheld the urge to bash his head against the bar as he picked up his hands to sign, ‘I Deaf.’ The android took a moment of pause. The Led om his temple blinked for a few cycles. It returned to blue and began to sign, ‘You Lieutenant A-N-D-E-R-S-ON?’

Hank wanted to groan, ‘Yes.’ He signed the letter ‘A’ and tapped it over his heart for his rank and name sign in one making things easier, ‘You Want What?’ ‘I Look For You.’ The android signed sharply, ‘I Find You After Five Bars.’ ‘You Want What?’ Hank repeated going as far as to tap the android’s chest. ‘I Sent For You. Active Case.’ It signed, ‘My Name C-O-N-N-O-R.’ He took a moment to to sign ‘machine’ but with the letter ‘C’. ‘I From CyberLife.’ Of course it was. Androids had taken every other job, and at long last it seemed they were coming after his. He sighed and rubbed at his face. ‘Tough Shit. I Not Join You.’ He didn’t even get back to facing the bar again before Connor tapped his shoulder again. Hank groaned and turned back to it. ‘If I Buy Drink You Will Come With Me?’ Connor asked and tipped his head to emphasize the question. Hank figured he had nothing left to lose. Connor had already made it clear he had no plans to leave him alone. So much so that he had made himself comfortable in a place that he clearly wasn’t welcome. ‘Sure. Why Not.’ There was no getting out of this as it was, so he might as well get a free drink out of it.

Hank didn’t see the bill Connor had slid across the counter, but after a long moment Jimmy slid him another whiskey. He took his time with it. He had to work this evening, which most likely meant dealing with Gavin and that wasn’t something he wanted to do sober. Connor just lingered. He sat stiffly in the corner of Hank’s vision, a constant reminder that he was one mistake away from being replaced. He didn’t know what Jeff was thinking with this, but Hank was certain he wasn’t going to like it. Unfortunately, a single glass of whiskey could only be made to last so long. Not to mention that Connor was just outside his line of sight as a solid reminder that there as no getting out of this. He sighed and set the empty glass down on the bar then stood. Connor followed him to the end of the bar and watched him settle the tab. It was creepy as all fuck. He got in his car and Connor got in on the passenger’s side without prompting which unsettled him. Hank reached across the car and opened the glove box. He felt around until he found his hearing aid case. He took them out and put them in, he turned them on, then put the radio on a volume where talking would be unpleasant if not difficult. With everything settled he made his way to the location that Connor had sent to his phone. Hank found androids as a whole to be off putting, not the least of this was because of how real they looked. This of course extended to Connor as well, but there was more to it than that when it came to him. He looked young, innocent almost and it was uncomfortable. Hank didn’t trust it. Androids had no reason to look like that. Something was up, and Hank had a feeling he was going to find out whether he wanted to or not. This android had sought him out and there was a reason for that. It was a mystery he would rather not solve, but he knew that wasn’t up to him either. So in his usual fashion, he planned to ignore it until it became unavoidable. They pulled into the scene and Hank turned off the radio and then turned to face Connor, “Stay in the car.” He said firmly and went so far to sign ‘stay’ as he spoke. “Got it.” Came the android’s response. His voice was somehow both earnest and emotionless. It was added to the list of things Hank found unsettling about Connor. Hank didn’t trust that he would actually stay in the car but he still got out. As much as he disliked it, he still had a job to do. If he got it done quickly enough he might even be able to go back to Jimmy’s and finished his night the right way. Drunk enough that none of this would stick around, or be a distant memory at the very least. He didn’t even make to the police line before he heard the other car door close. As he had suspected, his orders were not the ones Connor was designed to follow.

He waved at Ben who responded in kind then looked over Hank’s shoulder with a perplexed expression. Hank could hazard a guess at who or rather what he was looking at. Connor who was dutifully following him like some overly eager rookie. “I didn’t think you one to get an android.” Ben remarked with notable confusion to his voice. Hank gave another sigh, his annoyance mounting further, “He’s not mine. CyberLife sent it to try and figure out what is going on, I’m just along for the ride I suppose.” Ben eyed Connor and he and Hank both crossed the police line. Hank changed his focus to the scene, though it took longer than he would have liked given the whiskey coursing through his system. He kept one eye on Connor as he looked over the scene. He wanted to know what had happened here as well as what Connor was capable of. From what he had gathered from the landlord Carlos Ortiz hadn’t been the best tenant, or even a good one at that. A Red Ice addiction and an android, those two things never mixed well as it was. Now the guy was dead, and like many androids as of late, his has vanished. Hank figured Connor was here for the android and he would be left with the homicide. It made the most sense. So with that plan in mind he made his way into the house.

The house was a mess, which Hank had for the most part expected. His years spent as a detective were the only things that kept him from losing his stomach at the smell. He talked to some of the other officers that were present before he went over the scene itself. Once he had an idea of what had happened he stepped out of the way to let Connor do his thing. Whatever that happened to be. He watched Connor go over the scene. It was unusual. The android would stand in one corner of the room or a doorway and observe the room as though he was watching something that Hank was unable to see. After that it would go through the room and observe the evidence. The LED would cycle between yellow and blue. What Hank was by no means ready for was when Connor swiped two of his fingers through god only knew what and then licked it. “Jesus Christ. Connor what the fuck?” Hank groaned as he looked away. “My apologies Lieutenant.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry, “I have a fully functional forensic analysis unit and I wanted results on the thirium before it evaporated.” “Just don’t do it again.” Hank replied as he turned back toward Connor. “Got it.” Connor responded in the same empty earnest tone from the car that Hank didn’t trust for a moment.

They moved through the house and the process repeated itself, save for the licking of mystery substances thankfully. The bathroom was a sight to behold. They both agreed that it was the android’s doing, but it was strange. As Hank understood it, android’s didn’t think. There was no way for them to develop beliefs, faith, or create something this ritual. Yet there it was. It was concerning in how unusual it was, and Hank was once again uncomfortable. This android, wherever it was, was defective and dangerous; but it also seemed like something more was going on. Hank couldn’t place what and he was getting more suspicious. Connor was looking up at the ceiling like he could see something that wasn’t there. Hank looked up to be sure, and other than the latch to the crawl space there was nothing up there. Connor’s LED rolled yellow and stayed there for a long moment. He passed Hank on his way out of the bathroom and Hank hesitated before he followed. Connor met him in the hallway with a chair from the dining room and Hank’s confusion only grew. “Connor, what are you doing?” He asked as he turned toward the bathroom. “The android is still here.” Came the distant reply. His voice was still emotionless and flat, but somehow colder at the same time. It teetered on dangerous and Hank didn’t like it.

Hank waited in the hallway because he had the feeling he wouldn’t want to be in the way when Connor came down with that android. He couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling from having heard Connor’s voice so dangerous but flat at the same time. It didn’t suit how he had been built to look, though Hank supposed that was the point. As it stood, the fact that CyberLife felt the need to get personally involved in this; as personal as sending an android to do your bidding could be; made him uncomfortable. Why send an android liaison? What were they trying to do? All of it was suspicious. There was more going on than they were being told, he just needed to figure out what. A commotion from the attic brought him out of his thoughts. Connor had found the android and apparently it didn’t plan to come quietly. Hank moved back toward the main part of the house; he didn’t want to be caught between two androids with something to settle. Connor and the other android got into another smaller scuffle in the front yard before they made their way back to the station to try and question the thing. There had the be a reason for it to have snapped like that. The alternative was that it was only a matter of time before every android out in the world did something like this; and that was not a line of thought that Hank was too keen on entertaining.

Gavin was waiting for them outside of the interrogation room when they got back and Hank had decided that he was way too sober for this. Hank pushed to have Connor question the android, it was the only way he could think of to get answers from it. Though as he watched Connor effortlessly manipulate it he came to regret that. Everything about Connor made him nervous, and that was before the other android had decided to self destruct in its holding cell. As Hand drove home in what was now the early hours of the morning he had the feeling that this was going to get so much worse before it got better. That, and he had better get used to this ever-present discomfort because he likely hadn’t seen every side of Connor yet.

[missnight0wl]

Jam City fused Y6 and Y7 - the analysis

So, I mentioned a couple of times in the past that the Statue Curse starting already in Y6 just doesn’t really make sense. I’ve been also discussing recently how Y6 is a hot mess to put it lightly, and one of the conversations with @nightingaletrash​ – who inspired that analysis with some of her ideas - made me realise that it really does feel like the current year in the game has content from two separate years. Because if you start to dig through that pile of rubbish, you kind of get two routes which make a little more sense on their own than what we’re seeing now. So… let’s get deeper into it. Why am I doing this? I mean, they fucked up so badly by now that it doesn’t really matter. But I dunno, I guess I just feel like organising something.

Oh, and just to give you a better picture of my thought process. The way I imagine how Jam City works right now is that they have the original concept for the story, but it’s still just a concept. Like, it has the main events and perhaps some details, but when they have to figure out things on their own, they get lost – hence all inconsistencies etc.

Now, without further ado, let’s discuss how those years should’ve looked like based on what we know already.

YEAR 6

All right, so I’m basically certain that Y6 was supposed to be dedicated to ONLY Rakepick, Jacob, and R (possibly also the Cabal and all that good juice in general). The funny thing here is that if the Statue Curse indeed wasn’t planned for Y6, it’d actually explain why Jacob didn’t ask about it even once. It always bothers me about him, to be honest. Not only it contradicts past Jacob (who was always worried about victims of the curses), but it’s also… pretty stupid? Like, dude. You want to catch Rakepick, she’s after the final vault, so by finding the vault, you’ll find Rakepick. Dontcha think that getting interested in the curse could be useful? But let’s start from the beginning.

So, Y6 starts pretty much the same. New Ben, angry Merula, “problems” with Beatrice, yadda yadda yadda… Then, we have the first change: Beatrice doesn’t find the petrified victim. We just go to the Divination class and get the prophecy. Trying to decipher it with the Weasleys inspires us to go to the Centaurs for help, and so we go on our gifts hunt (y’know, the herbs, the astronomy chart, and Hagrid’s Rock Cakes). We go to the Centaurs Camp. Then, we can throw some Haywoods drama in between (though I’d remove it….), we see a missing skull in the Artefact Room, so we follow Ben to Knockturn Alley. There, we meet Fletcher who tells us that the Wizard in White from Y5 is back. We talk about it with Dumbledore who suggests that the Wizard in White is from Mahoutokoro. Later, we meet with Charlie who also brings us to Bill’s surprise visit. Bill offers us (and our friends) private DADA lessons… but oh no! The twins are missing! We search for them, the Weasleys are extra worried because there might be SOME new curse at Hogwarts (remember, there’s no Statue Curse here). We finally find the twins, and they tell us that they followed Jacob – allegedly. This sends us on another hunt, this time after Jacob. We hear a lot of suspicious things about him (his weird behaviour at the Library and at the Flourish & Blotts), and finally, we find him in Knockturn Alley. Jacob tells us that R sent the assassin after us and Merula. We duel, and Jacob runs away again. We go back to Hogwarts, we meet Cedric (or not, because we don’t really need it), and BUM! Sickleworth with the White Quill! And so we chase that little rascal! Now, here’s another little change: when MC loses track of Sickleworth, they decide to go to the Hospital Wing because Rakepick might be trying to investigate the victims. Interestingly, it’s the ONLY time anybody talks about the possibility of her being interested in this, even though she paid a lot of attention to the victims of the Sleepwalking Curse and the Portrait Curse (so it has to be important from the curse-breaking point of view). Therefore, I’d say that it was a one-time fluke that Jam City remembered to mention that after the changes to the original concept…

All right, but we’re after Sickleworth again. He leads us to Jacob’s room where we also find Jacob himself. We ask him wtf is he doing there and how he even got in (like, aren’t we using Tulip’s lock anymore? anyone can enter there?). AND HERE’S WHERE WE START THE PLOT WITH THE MINISTRY HEIST. And I know what you’re going to say, BUT… I still believe that it was planned by Rakepick. Because look, there are just too many convenient coincidences on our way to find out about her Dark artefacts (allegedly required for the final vault) for it to ACTUALLY be a coincidence. As a reminder, this is how it goes:

After we get the White Quill from Sickleworth, Jacob wants to follow the Niffler to find Rakepick. He doesn’t let us go with him, but he let us go find the white owl (which is suspicious as fuck because dude believes that the White Quill was sent by R, so technically he sends us ALONE to find someone from R who has a white owl). Our investigation eventually leads us to the Hog’s Head Inn where Aberforth tells us that the white owl belongs to Rakepick (a reminder: Aberfoth was seen talking to Jacob before his expulsion). Like, just think about it for a moment: Rakepick was in the middle of a day in a very public place in Hogsmeade, where even students go occasionally, with A FREAKING WHITE OWL. She had to want to be followed. And so, we follow her to Knockturn Alley. There, Fletcher told us that Rakepick was angry, and that she needs some Dark artefacts from Hogwarts. Fletcher told us that. A guy who’s terrified of Rakepick. I mean, if those artefacts were really that important, Rakepick would tell Fletcher to not tell anyone about it, especially MC! And he’s too scared of her to not listen! (Also, another reminder: during our Legilimency session in Y5 with the Headmaster, we saw a memory of Dumbledore talking with Fletcher. Interesting coincidence, hm?) So again, we go back to Hogwarts, and we eventually go to Snape who - instead of telling us to get lost - informs us kindly that the artefacts were protected with some unknown magic. He also let us know that he passed them to Dumbledore. And what Dumbledore does? He tells us that the artefacts are in the Ministry. And look, Albus might be a jackass, but he’s not stupid. He knew that MC would try to break into the Ministry. So why he told us about it? Because for some reason, it’s important to both him and Rakepick that MC would get to those damn artefacts. I actually had a thought recently that it was the first attempt to let MC know about things we learnt in Y5Ch35 (more on that meeting: here).

Anyway, we start planning our heist, with an Invisibility Cloak (borrowed from Badeea because fuck you, Alistair) and all. Unfortunately, freaking Moody interrupts us and tell us about the escapee who’s after us. We assume that it’s the same assassin Jacob talked about. The school freaks out because of that – and NOT because of Madam Pomfrey getting petrified. We also sneak out at the Lakeshore because while there’s still no curse, we do have the Trident, so we can as well start searching around the Black Lake (because in this scenario, MC actually can use their brain cells, at least sometimes). We get “attacked” by the Wizard in White, and we get detention (or not because it was totally meaningless). In the meantime, Talbott tells us that he saw the white owl dropping a letter. We decipher the message about more White Quills, we go at the Lake to find them, we learn about Dementors coming to Hogwarts. Moody sells us his bullshit that Jacob saved us from the assassin, so we want to find our brother in his room, but instead, we find with Ben another Black Quill. THAT Black Quill addressed to Jacob about their meeting in the Forest Grove. We decide to go to that meeting. Rowan dies (or “dies”).

The events after Rowan’s death are pretty much the same, including the formation of the Circle of Khanna. We still have Charlie, Barnaby, and Liz working on creatures in the Black Lake, even though the curse is not active yet, but we have enough clues to suspect that (the Trident + MC actually remembers the note found in the Weird Sisters TLSQ about the Sunken Vault). One change: we confront Moody more strongly about where the hell was he. Because he was allegedly responsible for the Dementors at Hogwarts, so why he even still has his job? We also learn more about whether or not there’s any investigation, about Rowan’s parents etc. Alanza arrives, and here things are also pretty much the same so far. Bill convinces us to go back to the crime scene where we actually find the necklace – which was the obvious connection to the Ministry heist - or anything else important. We meet Torvus who tells us that Firenze has the interpretation of our prophecy, which is foreshadowing for our future confrontation with vault!Jacob (more here). Hearing about another loss, we feel the need to meet our brother. We go to Duncan, to the Boathouse, and we finally meet Jacob. We confront him about where the fuck he was when Rowan died, what happened with the assassin when he allegedly chased him, and what the fuck was it about with that letter which R wrote to him. He sells us some bullshit: that Rakepick manipulated him after his expulsion and that he went after the Cursed Vaults because he felt worthless, yadda yadda yadda. We call him out on that or we talk with someone else about it: that Jacob always wanted to protect his loved ones and Hogwarts, and that’s why he got involved with the Vaults. Therefore, what he’s saying now doesn’t make any sense. Then, our meeting with Jacob is interrupted by Beatrice in the Lake. Although, I’d personally remove that part as well as her whole chapter - unless we could learn from that something important about Y5. In its current form, it didn’t really add anything. But either way, this is the point when we went to Hagrid and Kettleburn to ask about Grindylows (Y6Ch28), which eventually led to the Whomping Willow. You know, that “the most stupid transition in the history of writing”:

creatures in the Black Lake -> Giant Squid -> big dangerous creatures -> big dangerous things -> Whomping Willow

But here’s something interesting.  George in his friendship activities has this question:

I assume it has to be a left-over from the original concept. Because it doesn’t really make sense for George to help us with that in the future if we’ve already spent time researching the Whomping Willow. So, I believe that George (or both twins) were supposed to help us with that part instead of Ben and Merula. Here’s my proposition:

After we confront Jacob about Rowan’s death, whether or not we find Beatrice in the Lake, we later meet George/the twins who told us that Jacob disappeared mysteriously around the Whomping Willow. It can be also connected to the Marauder’s Map. Let’s say that they confess that they saw it on the Map, and perhaps even when they went missing earlier this year, they didn’t actually see Jacob, but they saw his name on the Map. I mean, I assume that the Map had to return at some point in some way. Either way, it reminds MC that Jacob had some notes on the Whomping Willow in his room, we search for it with George, we also find some of Rowan’s notes. We go to the Whomping Willow, with the twins or someone else, and we find the Black Quill containing the message about the meeting at the Borgin and Burkes. And here’s where the big role is played by our team dedicated to spying:

I know that technically a lot of them take part in the whole action (Tonks, Jae, Andre), but it’s just bizarre to me that they weren’t addressed as THE TEAM who was created for situations like this. Also, Tulip wasn’t even included in any of that. I’m pretty sure that Jam City ignored it because they switched their focus to the Black Lake plot a little earlier, and they got fucking lost.

The rest can go pretty much the same: we find out about the mole etc. Except, WE STICK TO THAT. We find out that Merula who is the mole, and that leads us to the end of the year, with the conclusions about Jacob, Rakepick, R, and the connections between all of that.

YEAR 7

Of course, a lot depends on how Y6 would actually end, but in general, we have to put in here everything which we removed from Y6. So, shortly after the start of the new school year, someone (might be still Beatrice) finds the first victim of the Statue Curse. We put more focus on the “creatures team” (Charlie, Barnaby, Liz) who were slowly doing their research all that time, step by step. Badeea and Talbott also had more time to work on their map. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey gets petrified, so we have to speed up. We enter the Black Lake, we meet the Merwoman, and we move to the whole plot with music and the Weird Sisters. And the best in all of that is that the Maestro’s Music Shop in Hogsmeade is indeed a location unlocked in Y7:

So, it all fits perfectly.

I dunno, I feel that even if MC was still dumb and all, such separation of themes in Y6 makes things a little clearer, and simply makes more sense. Also, maybe it’s just me, but I feel like the inconsistencies happen more often in the subplots related to the final vault. For example, when Moody told us about the escapee, MC used their brain cells to figure out that it might be the same assassin Jacob talked about earlier. Kind of similar situation was when we found the necklace in the Forest before Rowan’s death: MC actually remembered that Rakepick’s Dark artefacts are supposed to be at the Ministry. But when it comes to the final vault, a lot of things are being repeated over and over again, MC didn’t remember that Pince and Binns already research the Merpeople, Alanza didn’t remember that we met the Weird Sisters a couple of chapters earlier etc. It’s as if the writers didn’t keep track of what they already moved from Y7...

I have no idea why they decided to mix everything up, though. They clearly don’t have a good grasp of the story, so no wonder we’re getting a hot mess. Again, why? Perhaps they’re buying some time before the grand reveal about Jacob/Rakepick/Rowan? It’s the only thing that comes to my mind, to be honest, though it’s still stupid. If you want to build up suspense among the players, we need some clues to what could really be happening etc. But no. They had in their notes to make Alanza mention that Rakepick smells like cinnamon, but it was too hard to figure out that maybe it’d be a good idea to use it in the context of her Polyjuice Potion etc. Sigh…

Anyway, we’re doomed – but it could’ve been not bad! Like, I didn’t really change much, just organised it a bit. And the weird thing is that mixing plots won’t create more content for them. It’d be the same in the length, just more confusing for everyone. I mean, they won’t manage to finish both plots (with R AND the final vault) by the end of Y6. One of them or both will have to be moved to Y7. So, it should’ve stayed separate, to begin with, if you ask me.

[galaxy-bread345]

Part 3: Knife in the Back

Heres the part 3 analysis of Jak/Keira’s relationship. This last post will go over their interactions in Jak 3. More under the cut. 

This one should be relatively short compared to the others. I vaguely knew that Keira and Jak don’t really interact in 3 but after skimming the cutscenes she honestly doesn’t interact or talk to Jak very much which really stinks because this could have been the game that they work out their issues. Keira could have gone to the wastelands with Jak and Daxter. All three of them could have actually become friends. Keira could have not only been a mechanic but a racer as well which gives her and Jak something their both interested in to bond over. I don’t know why she wasn’t more heavily included in the game and instead Ashelin is turned into the love interest when its kinda already implied that both her and Torn are close. We then have both Torn and Ashelin acting like a couple in Jak X so it really doesn’t make sense. 

I don’t think the game developers intended it but theres a lot of negative implications with how Keira acts in the game. Specifically, is that she doesn’t act like a close friend or girlfriend would. The first interaction after Jak makes it back into the city shes sad, quiet, doesn’t speak to him but looks regretful. Secondish interactions they’re back to back she is a supportive friend congratulating him, having his back and all that. Third interaction is at the end when she shows up with everyone else to send off the Precursors but she doesn’t interact with him. The thing is that if she were to be as close to Jak as the narrative wants us to believe she is they don’t show it. Where was Keira when they were trying to kick him out? Where was Keira when Jak was left to die in the wastelands? Yeah, hes tough but she shouldn’t automatically assume he can handle anything anybody throws at him. Everybody has their breaking points and if Ashelin literally hadn’t given him the communicator so the wastelanders could find him he would have been dead. This goes for Samos too since he was Jak’s guardian figure growing up. Both of them should have done more to insure Jak’s safety and while Samos at the very least apologizes for not sticking up, Keira doesn’t. She doesn’t offer to go with him or try to sneak anything to him so that he has a better chance of surviving. She does absolutely nothing which is horrible especially considering in the last game she supposedly looked all over for him for two years and now she knows where hes being sent to but the chance of him actually surviving are slim so she does......nothing????? She can’t give him a locator, construct a vehicle or fuck it STEAL a vehicle and go after him?? She isn’t going to do anything to make sure her new boyfriend, is you know, alive??? But shes going to look regretful as shit as soon as he comes back to the city and obviously PiSsEd OfF that NO ONE had his back??? 

...............

 .......That is a huge red flag. 

Out of everyone Jak has known from the past Daxter is literally the only true friend because Daxter is ride or die. Daxter will literally throw himself into danger to make sure his best friend is okay. Daxter will stick by Jak’s side to make sure he doesn’t end up dead. Daxter didn’t have to go to the wastelands HE CHOSE TOO because he didn’t want to lost his best friend again!!!  If you are going to have a romantic partner you need to hold them accountable like you would your friends. Dax and Jak don’t put up with each others bullshit and will call each other out on it but they also make sure to have each other’s back and keep the other safe. Keria doesn’t have Jak’s back even if she says she does. None of her actions indicate that shes here for him through thick and thin. None of her actions indicate that she is going to stick her neck out for him. No, she doesn’t need to go on all the life threatening missions he does BUT if people are trying to kill him or blame him for something that wasn’t his fault i.e. the metalheads getting into the city and the city blaming Jak because of his connections to Krew then she needs to stick up for him. She needs to show that she cares about what happens to him. If she does think that he deserves to be punished for his actions i’m going to assume not by death  then they need to discuss what needs to happen next. She either supports him or she doesn’t, she can’t have both. Having her be happy and act like shes there for him later in the game when Veger is trying to vilify Jak again doesn’t make up for anything. Its not genuine at all and the only reason she says it is because shes supposed to be his girlfriend. 

I am going to blame crappy narrative writing and poor characterization for this one. Its hard like or even heavily dislike a character when the creators so clearly didn’t put the effort into making them a fully realized individual. 

Now I can’t really talk about Jak’s end of the relationship much since most of the game is him dealing with the end of the world and trying not to die. He’s not happy and after he meets up with Samos and Keira again he looks so disappointed. Most of his life lately has been people using him to further their own goals so to see the people who are supposed to be his friends say sorry but still expect him to fight..... its disheartening. They don’t question whether or not Jak will walk away, it doesn’t even cross their minds. When Ashelin apologizes to him he doesn’t care, hes in the war for his own personal reasons, so hes going to do what he needs to do. No matter how angry at the world Jak has been he will always fight for it. He’s been treated like shit and he wants to make the people in power pay so it doesn’t happen to him or anyone else again. This kid literally has a heart of fuckn gold. The fact that people rely on that aspect of Jak to carry them through is disgusting and its never resolved. Yes, its important to say sorry when you fuck up but it means nothing if you don’t take actions to make sure that mistake never happens again. Its fair to say that given everything hes been through Jak has trust issues. Hes wary of what people really want from him and doesn’t expect them to have his back. So to expect that Jak would forgive Samos and Keira after everything that has happened is wild. He should be mad with them and made it clear that they have a lot of making up to do before he can trust them again. Its also very telling at the end of the game where Jak pretends to go with the Precursors to prank everyone and then shows back up. He says “I couldn’t leave you Dax, you wouldn’t last a second without me”. Not only is this line a throwback to what Daxter said in the beginning when he joins Jak in exile but it also states that out of everyone Daxter is the only person he can’t leave behind. Everyone else he can get over but not Daxter. Its not Sig or Ashelin, its not his girlfriend Keira or his past care taker Samos, its Daxter his best friend in the whole world whose had his back from day one of the series.  

The reasons why Jak and Keira wouldn’t have a working relationship keep repeating themselves and can be simplified down to: 

non-existent friendship 

horrible communication

no emotional investment in each other

interactions depend on the other providing a service

trust issues

not taking the time to understands each others traumatic experiences

I can only assume that they are a couple because the creators of the series wanted it even though the narrative clearly shows that the relationship would be toxic as fuck. After watching the cutscenes for Jak X I don’t think its necessary for me to go into detail about it since most of it is just flirting. None of the issues brought up in Jak 2 are resolved and Keira never blatantly apologizes to Jak about him being exiled. Jak never tries to be an actual friend to Keria and seems to be only attracted to her because of her looks/ vehicles she provides him. I think with better writing these two could have a functioning and healthy relationship. Even though in canon they aren’t good for each other I encourage people who like this ship to write a better relationship for them. If you read all three lengthy posts I’m proud of you and thank you for coming to my TedTalk. 

[seasaltmemories]

Persona 5 Royal Review/Analysis

So I didn’t have a ps4 when the original persona 5 came out, so royal was my first experience with the game, as a result, I will be talking about spoilers for both the original content and Royal bc a lot of the additions seem mixed in aside from just the third semester stuff

let’s get the summary

Prepare for an all-new RPG experience in Persona 5 Royal based in the universe of the award-winning series, Persona! Don the mask of Joker and join the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. Break free from the chains of modern society and stage grand heists to infiltrate the minds of the corrupt and make them change their ways! Persona 5 Royal is packed with new characters, confidants, story depth, new locations to explore, and a new grappling hook mechanic for stealthy access to new areas. 

So one of the things that I picked up really early on into my playthrough was that Persona 5 feels like a very adolescent piece of media, like yeah it is about highschoolers, but more than just its cast and setting, it seemed really fixated on capturing and adolescent mindset, there is this fresh awareness to the injustices of the world and a burning desire to fix it without much understanding of how to even began to tackle those problems, and the fact it stuck so hard to to that worldview made me a lot more forgiving of its flaws then I might have otherwise been, not that there isn’t stuff to critique about the way it tackles controversial issues, but at the same time i just had this mindset of, “well of course they aren’t going to get everything right, what can you expect from teens?”

Anyone who knows me knows I am a pretentious blow-hard, but I think P5 is a perfect example of just how important style is to anything.  So much of the pure glee and joy I got when I booted up the game came from the fun presentation and commitment to the phantom thief aesthetic, I have a lot of thoughts on gameplay that seem to be contradictory to the general consensus but to keep things brief, all the “sneaking’ around a palace, grappling from places, ambushing enemies, and performing all out attacks just all gave this sense of being cool and stylish that was great, even if the writing stronger, without those fun flourishes I don’t think I would have enjoyed my experience as much

I also think the more than any other game, persona 5 does a great job of making me thinking “just one more thing” you got a lot of confidants to fill and stats to raise to fill them so there is always something to do, at most during the story sections things sometimes dragged, but i was eager to finish them to get back to finishing my goals, for as long as the game was, this made it feel so much more manageable

Unpacking an entire 110 hour playthrough is kinda an overwhelming task, so instead I’m going to talk about my four favorite characters and hopefully that will cover some good amount of material

1) Goro Akechi- one of the first things I knew about this game was what a controversial character this bastard was and it turns out I fell on the side that loves him bc I think I have a thing for traitor characters, I have to say though for most of the game I wasn’t sure how I felt about him, I knew his true role going in, so it was hard to get attached to Detective Prince Akechi as most of his interactions with Joker felt like an act, however his Rank 8 confidant link, when he not only pulls out a gun on you and challenges you to an one on one fight but also freaking throws a glove to challenge you in a duel I was like “oh so you’re a little bitch boy then!” and never turned back

To me part of what makes him so compelling is just how stubbornly he is set on his path straight to Hell, a lot of ppl were moved by his tragic backstory but honestly it does little for me, I think it is important to consider, but you have to remember he approached Shido about his powers first and basically volunteered to be his personal assassin, still it is hard to ignore that sense of lost potential, in a way I can see how getting to pretend to be a part of a safe and welcoming team environment almost made things worst because he just kept feeling like, “why wasn’t I allowed to have this earlier” and just too tied to his current path of self-destruction to waver from it, like even the fact the Phantom Thieves and he had the same goals regarding Shido in the end, he couldn’t side with bc that would mean acknowledging all the murder he did was for nothing, so they just continued to be another target on his list, made all the more dangerous bc of the affection he held for them

That said I don’t think I would have liked him so much without Royal’s updates, I mentioned Rank 8 being a key moment for me but aside from that, the fight with him in Shido palace had so much going on, it kinda dulled the weight of any one of the numerous revelations, 3rd semester kinda brought in the perfect amount and balance of the different sides of Akechi, the minute he appeared I swear me and my brother cheered in joy, obvious spoilers for the rest of it

I had seen 3rd semester Akechi called “feral” and while he is still as horny for murder as ever, i don’t really think that fits, there is still a sense of restraint to his actions, yet he doesn’t mask his true intentions and feelings so much, what I like is that his rudeness and outbursts come off as very deliberate and planned, as if he enjoys exposing the contrast between his “pleasant” reputation and his true bitterness, and with the reveal that oops he is supposed to be dead, you still have that determined “don’t be a fucking pussy, just pull the trigger,” attitude, I really like the dynamic that forms between a Joker that just wants the best for him and an Akechi that just emphatically refuses to be saved in anyway, he is an easy character to woobify but I love how canon just at every turn doesn’t let you ever see his true vulnerability even if we all know it exists down there, also just something about hearing him curse is always so much fun and delightful

TLDR: I have a lot of feelings about this edgy bastard and may or may not already have a playlist for him

2) Makoto Niijima- another character I had an interesting relationship with, while from the start she seemed like my type, the overwhelming love for her kinda made my hipster side apprehensive, however predictably I was won over and I did romance her in the end (what can I saw my Joker is into brunettes)

Part of what makes her stick out so much to me, is how the game felt much less afraid to show her unlikable in comparison to other characters, i usually don’t complain or really notice this but more than any other game series I’ve played, there is definitely a lot of self-insert fantasy elements involved, ppl rip the newer FE games apart for that, but I never really saw it as the terrible as the cast had dozens of life changing interactions with other characters, the fact most of the interaction we see are through Joker’s eyes, and the fact that he is the catalyst to changing several adults’ lives made this element a lot more noticeable

But not only does Makoto take an antagonistic role at first, but they let her be so smug and annoying that I probably hated her with the same passion as the characters themselves, yet even when she comes over to or sides, her flaws are still pretty open, like when trying to help out Futuba, she definitely had that air of, “neurotypical trying too hard to make you normal” that was understandable but still annoying, and I appreciate it bc it made the contrast between her good points all the sharper

I kinda wanted to roll my eyes at first at her archetype as an honors student, bc yeah i was a nerdy student who didn’t know how to connect with my peers and just kinda subconsciously sucked up to adults bc I didn’t know what else to do, but in comparison to the teeming tragic backstories involved, you can see a stark difference in scale, yet Makoto is just carrying all this familiar teenage girl anger that reminds me a lot of Serena from Arc V, and getting to see her embrace it is very cathartic, I also really enjoyed her confidant which was surprising after seeing everyone tear into it so much, I feel like a lot of ppl’s confidant’s centered around other ppl and it didn’t just start off with the Eiko stuff, you see her Makoto want to change from the sheltered snobbish life she has kinda trapped herself in and rediscover her dream of being a police commissioner, I also found it fitting for her to also kinda figure that out through her own little investigation and to see that exploration of justice explored through her acting with a third party

The fact she is related to Sae also gives her interesting relationships we get to see from a different POV, and a greater investment in arcs outside her own, it just naturally gives her the feeling of being more well-rounded to have it spread out, and while her romance stuff did have the same sort of fantasy elements (that I greatly self-indulged in) overall I never felt like Joker was “saving” her in some way but growing and exploring along sides her

Overall, a great character and while i think best girl debates are dumb, I will not stand for hearing her described as worst girl

3) Ann Takamaki- honestly before I got this game I expected her to be the “main girl” with a lot of popularity and focus so seeing how little love she gets was heartbreaking for me, bc she is part of what made the early phantom thieves so enjoyable

I’ve heard the discussions about the issues around her sexualization and I think things on that access come out to be a wash, the developers kinda brush near some interesting ideas about the struggles women face with sex and attraction but don’t really know what to do with that, and so I think trying to trace and overall arch one way or another about her and her body issues is kinda a lesson in futility

in the end though what made her click for me is just how much fun her personality is, like I feel like in other stories her cheerfulness might come off as generic, but the fact that she is introduced so depressed and sullen makes her attitude shift come off as refreshing, like we know she can be serious, but the fact she isn’t being repeatedly sexually harassed by her teacher gives her like plenty of reason to goof off and enjoy herself

Again despite all the criticism I really enjoyed her confidants, the Mika stuff was honestly barely a blip in the thing and most of it alternated between her shooting the breeze and just having fun and still dealing with that lingering guilt and issues surrounding Shiho and just not having been able to save a close friend when she really needed her, I think the contrast is very much needed, especially to keep things from feeling like wallowing, which i felt was a problem with some other confidants

In the end though the main reason i didn’t romance her was bc as much as I liked her as a character, I didn’t want her to be with Joker specifically, i wanted to support her and see her finally confess her feelings to Shiho and the two of them go ride off into the sunset lol, still there’s a reason I reached rank 10 with her first

4) Takuto Maruki- lol so in this section I’m going to basically go into all my 3rd semester thoughts, again the first leg of his confidant was kinda dull, but I was prioritizing him bc of the deadline, once we got into his personal past that is where I got interested

On one hand part of the charm was just getting to see a more adult story, while there are other adult confidants I found the grad school and like academic stuff relatable, plus like the little moment with the steamed glasses was very funny, he’s just a down to earth guy and his kindness is genuine

However when he stepped up as the antagonist in the third semester, that’s when he got interesting, I found the conflict itself of a dream world to be kinda simple, aside from the fact obviously we need to oppose this for a plot to happen, Persona 5 is all about this humanist approach to personal growth and change, most of what I found fascinating about Maruki was the kinda self-martyring narcissism to his approach, like aside from treat the phantom thieves with kid gloves at time and just doing his best to avoid being a bad guy, there is this simmering resentment he masks and tries to replace with his desire to basically save the world, rather than deal with his own drama and baggage he tries to invest his energy into solving other problems

And you can see some of the parallels between him and the phantom thieves that points out some of hypocrisy of themselves, calculating the exact risks and harms of altering ppl through the Metaverse is hard to do due to a variety of factors, personally I don’t even have other Persona games to look to, but in general while it is for the greater good, the phantom thieves basically impose their will onto ppl who didn’t consent to that change, and in the end they decide to oppose Maruki purely based on their desires to not live in it, the game doesn’t do much with it, but I found the contrast more interesting than the Holy Grail one, plus his boss battle was more fun bc you actually got to use the main mechanic of the game, exploiting weaknesses and baton passing

But yeah all this comes to a head at the latter half of the boss fight where he just is so desperate and refuses to lose, it is like abundantly clear that this dream world is much more for himself than it is for anyone else, it is a desire to turn all his trauma into something more meaningful than just pain, and nothing shows that more clearly than the fact he fistfights a high schooler even after he has basically lost and tries to let himself die rather than face the consequences of his lost.  All in all I think he was the my favorite antagonist and palace holder

Some last thoughts I couldn’t fit elsewhere: Casino was my favorite palace, while weak story-wise, Okumura was far from my least favorite palace gameplay-wise and his boss fight as frustrating as it was might be my favorite for engaging with the player, if anything my least favorite palace was Futaba’s, my favorite showtimes are probably Morgana/Ann, Makoto/Ryuji, and Joker/Kasumi, Caroline and Justine are a delight and I really miss them, Tycoon is addicting and distracted me from being able to beat the game for a while

I got more hot takes I might elaborate on in length in the future, but in conclusion this is another rec where I can see and understand ppl being disappointed in some of the writing and its quality but at the same time i think there is still value ppl are too quick to dismiss and definitely multiple reasons to still enjoy it, I think this is going to stick with me for longer than I first thought it wound

[creativenicocorner]

It’s Wednesday My Dudes!

One of the hardest days of the week. And with that I come bringing gifts! A Sneak Peek of a Drabble Challenge response I’ve been working on. See I told you I didn’t forget about them!!  <3

These are coming out longer than I anticipated, but I’m having fun with them and I hope you guys will have as much fun reading them! 

Rated Mature

//

Anna was expecting a lot of things that night. A quiet evening, a well written finale for her favorite fantasy tv show, and her package finally arriving were on that list of things.

It was a list that never came to be.

The instant the local coroner, and occasional forensic analysis for the Arcadia Police Department, heard her doorbell ring there was trouble. A trouble that arrived unannounced.

Anna groaned as she made her way to the door, and checked if her armpits smelled before opening the door.

It felt like a morbid set up to a joke. Except there was no chest to cut open.

Not yet at least.

For in her doorway was her best friend, her (supposed?) ex, and his friend. All of whom looked as though they went through a VIP tour through a slaughter house.

“Hey Anna,” said Barbara feebly through a busted lip. The good doctor winced through her attempted smile “we…ah, well, first I can explain..but um-”

“That’s not corn syrup, is it.” Anna’s question rang like a statement. “Hello again by the way.” she added dryly to the badly bruised Nomura who carried an even worse off Walter Strickler.

The strength of Nomura’s arms to carry a full grown man was duly noted.  

Nomura looked away, and readjusted her hold Walter. Clicking her tongue when she noticed the amount of blood on her dress. Human, and changeling. Which gave a surreal effect to the fabric of her dress. Nomura didn’t even want to begin to think about the clean up job she’ll eventually have to do for her car seats.

Walter’s attempt at a salutation made it as far as turning his head.

“You’ve met??” asked Barbara, adjusting her dangerously cracked glasses.

“Looks like we all have some explaining to do.” Anna said rubbing a hand over her recently washed face. She sidestepped to give Nomura more room.

“At this rate Strickler’s going to bleed out.” mumbled Nomura. She made no effort to hide her impatience as she passed Anna’s threshold. 

Anna’s brows furrowed, and quickly looked Barbara over again. Her eyes analyzing her best friend. To see if she was in a worse off state than Anna initially looked over. 

Barbara’s lip was swollen, her hand clutched at her side that might have a broken rib, and there were cuts along her collar bone and arms and legs. 

“I’m fine.” assured Barbara. Able to catch Anna’s analyzing eyes. “Fine enough to be sure Walter was patched for transport. Nomura’s worried. Then again, they’re like family-”

“Did he do this to you?” steeled Anna, remorselessly. 

“What? No. Nooo-”

“I’m not touching anyone until I know he didn’t do this to you. And so help me God if he did. Cause I have no obligation to help the living Barb. And I can make that shit look like an accident.” 

“I love you too Anna.” Barbara shuffled forward to hug her, wincing all the while. “I promise you he didn’t do this. I’ll…” Barbara tightened her hug with a guilty exhale. “I’ll explain as you patch me up. Please Anna. We can’t take this case to a normal hospital…and I need an extra steady hand if Walt’s going to make it past stable.” 

“Alright. I believe you. Still stand by my statement though.”

“Terrifying as always. You’re going to be the primary suspect to so many of my ex’s.” 

“Better believe it.” said Anna, kissing her best friend’s hairline. 

“Hey, uh DOCTORS, he’s bleeding again!” called out Nomura from Anna’s living room. 

Barbara frowned, and rubbed her eyebrow, smearing some of the drying blood, “We need to hurry Anna. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“I’ll get it. Can you walk to the kitchen?”

“I was able to walk to your door, wasn’t I?” snarked Barbara, trying to ignore the rising panic Nomura’s pacing over Walter was inspiring.

Barbara tried not to look into Anna’s living room. At how Walter’s hand hung off the couch. The way his breathing looked shallow. How Nomura’s pacing would slow to a stop to gently, and fearfully, adjust Walter’s hand. 

All the same, Barbara’s frown deepened. 

Bravely she tried to scrub her hands clean in Anna’s sink. Ignoring the pain in her side as much as she could. Barbara couldn’t tell if her shaking hands was from potential unchecked nerve damage, or the still lingering adrenaline. 

“Okay.” went Anna, popping open the first aid kit on her kitchen island. “Spill.”

Barbara continued to examine her own arms as she turned to Anna. “It happened on the outskirts of the VONS’s parking lot. Wait…how much do you already know?”

“Changelings and trolls are a thing. There’s a million year war that’s been going on.” shrugged Anna. She motioned for Barbara to sit “I don’t know all the details, but Nomura there gave me a decent enough cliff-notes version last time.”

“Last time??” exclaimed Barbara with a wince. She wanted very badly to rub her eyebrow. “What do you mean last time??”

“One story at a time Barbara.”

“I can’t believe you kept this from me.”

“It happened before you started, remembering…”

“Oh.”

Anna grasped one of Barbara’s shaky hands. “I didn’t know how to bring it up, and…I’m sorry.”

“It’s a shit theme that’s been happening with me Anna…I’m not happy.”

“I can imagine.”

Barbara kissed Anna’s cheek. “Still not happy, but I’ll forgive you.”

Anna gave a sheepish smile, and nodded. Awkwardly Anna returned to the first aid kit. “He didn’t mention it?”

“We’ve been…slow catching up. I’ve been distant, if it wasn’t for Jim I’d probably be even more distant than I am now…”

“That’s understandable.” Nodded Anna as she sat a utensil down. “Shirt.”

Barbara obliged, and struggled with lifting her shirt as she continued, “And he’s been…hard to read, as always. One second looking like a wounded puppy following me, the next,” Barbara grunted and felt her eyes tear up as a searing pain shot through her side, “Shying away parts of himself..sometimes disappearing. But then I see him with Jim. Talking, explaining, and I feel myself relieved to sigh‘Oh there’s Walter’. There’s my son’s favorite history teacher. The principal I dated. But he’s more than that now. I know he isn’t human…” a realization crept over Barbara. Slowly she vocalized it, “You know since remembering, Walter hasn’t been in his troll form around me..” her eyes grew broodier, “not if he can help it.”

Anna frowned as she helped Barbara lift her shirt up. Gently she pressed her fingers against the skin. “..I’m not liking what I’m seeing here Barb.”

Barbara sucked air threw her teeth, her nose crinkling with a cringe “Your bedside manner sucks as always.”

“Quit squirming. My last patient didn’t complain.”

“Your last patient has a TOD.”

“The dead don’t have much to fidget over anymore.” 

Barbara grew still, and looked down at Anna’s bloody work. “Jim told me about what happened to the other changelings…how they’re viewed..do you think-?”

Anna cursed under her breath and threw some blood speckled gauze on her floor. “I’m still waiting on your explanation as to what happened! That could have been you on my couch! Not some half stone near immortal person who can blast through molecular reconstruction with a single fucking magical thought!”

Barbara winced again, and wheezed a cough under Anna’s more passionate application of antiseptic. If Barbara’s nails weren’t as well groomed as they were, they’d be digging into her own palms. 

“He’s not immortal.”

“And neither are you! Jesus, you look like someone dragged you down the road for fuck’s sake.” 

“It was my fault.”

Anna gave Barbara a harsh disbelieving look. 

“I was…Okay…Jim’s off doing some sort of scavenger hunt…and I haven’t heard from him in a while. Jim’s explained this can happen but, I was worried…like frustratingly worried. All the same I went to Vons, tried to get groceries, normal…mom things…and then the power went out.”

Anna looked up from her work. Watched as Barbara’s eyes looked around as she re-lived the play by play of what happened. 

“I was in the car when it happened. At the edge of the parking lot I saw them, those…green Gumm-Gumm trolls? There were like…two of them. And thank goodness the parking lot was nearly empty for a Thursday. Cause, fuck, Anna. What if they attacked people? And so…so for the four other people in the parking lot. I..I tried to ram my car against one of them. To…do something. Slow them down I guess.” 

“Barbara.” Anna stood up to get more gauze. “You’re the dumbest smart person I know. That must have been like driving your car into a wall.” 

“My son is out there fighting these things all the time. I, I couldn’t just do nothing!”

“A. WALL.”

Barbara winced her eyes shut, her lips becoming a thin line. “Well..it didn’t work.”

“No shit.”

“Things…got dangerous…”

“Again. No shit Darkwing Duck.”

“Luckily Walter was shopping there too. He stepped in..and kept putting me out of harms way while taking on these two trolls. They’re like twice our size put together!” Barbara held back a sob. “But..but stubbornly I kept trying to help. I…I pulled a baseball bat from my trunk..and…all I did was put him in more danger than necessary. I mean it was kind of fun at first,” Barbara exhaled a strained bitter laugh into her hand, “It made me think about if Jim has as much fun with danger as we were having. 

“There was even banter Anna! Christ, it was the most he talked to me since Merlin came back. And together we were able to take one troll down!…but..then when Walter wasn’t looking I..I tried to push him out of the way of a blow. I..my body acted on its own, and I, I didn’t want to see him hurt” Barbara shamefully covered her face, “If Walter didn’t bounce back and shield me when he did I’d be a pile of putty, never able to walk again, and stuck to a car with a Barbara shaped cartoon indent. It only got worse from there. The other troll got back up, and, and Walter’s shoulder…” Doctor Barbara Lake winced. “Nomura said it’s a wound that has never fully healed.”

Anna nodded, “Guess we’ll see that callus soon.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to play hero without knowing what I was doing. Not like that. Not by risking his life and the lives of others.”

“And your own.” underlined Anna while she guided her pair of scissors to cut a stitch. 

“If Nomura hadn’t called…if I hadn’t narrowly been able to answer that phone…”

Barbara winced again, though this time it wasn’t due because of any physical pain, but from remembering when Nomura arrived. 

How hopeless the situation seemed to get. How ghastly Walter’s arm looked. How his limp worsened with every step. 

The sheer wave of relief when Nomura arrived. The way Nomura cursed after her initial surprise attack. The back and forth between Nomura and Strickler about poisoned blades. 

Until Walter Strickler couldn’t speak anymore, and collapsed. 

How in that moment of collapse Nomura became distracted. Looking so much like that lost young girl Barbara had seen in an old 1800’s photo displayed at the museum. And the backdraft of rage that followed. 

“I don’t know what would have happened.” came Barbara’s voice, hoarse and hushed.

“I’d be cashing my service as Jim’s godmother is what.” roughly Anna pulled down Barbara’s shirt over her newly dressed side. “You’re going to need X-rays after this.”

Barbara’s hand floated to her side, gently pressing her fingers against Anna’s work. Slowly, she nodded. “Thanks Anna.”

Anna kissed into Barbara’s hair as she moved towards her sink. 

Steadily, Barbara moved to join Anna to scrub their hands. 

The water matched the static whirlwind of Barbara’s thoughts. Of how this was essentially all avoidable if it hadn’t been for her brashness to intervene. 

“Hey.” went Anna after several glances into Barbara’s darkened face, “Just cause you’re a klutz of a hero one way, doesn't mean you’re not a hero in other ways.” with a little hip check Anna smiled, “Doctor.”

Barbara managed a smile, her lip still swollen, “Doctor.”

“Now save the pity party for after we operate on your ex.”

Barbara snorted a chuckle and nodded, “Alright.”

The two doctors re-entered Anna’s living room to find Nomura sitting beside Walter. Her hand slid into his. Her face despondent, lost in another time that was similarly too close for comfort. If it wasn’t for the way Nomura’s eyes shifted with each new panicked thought, Barbara would have thought she was a statue.  

Barbara gave herself a moment to breath with one long exhale. Something she tended to do before any operation. Level heads were needed now. 

//

Thank you so much for reading!! 

[writingwhimsy]

A Broken Soldier (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes)

This is the first chapter of a new story I started on a whim based on the what if scenario that Steve lost his memory in the plane crash while Bucky slowly recovered under Hydra. Get ready for some angst. Also on AO3:

Chapter One:

The Winter Soldier had a secret, one he was willing to die to protect.

One he had killed to protect.

The secret was simple: he was malfunctioning. Had been for a while.

What started as brief lapses in his training and control had turned into extended periods of clarity. Where memories slowly flooded in to smother the scent of blood and gunpowder disguised as a call for world peace.

The first time it happened, he was walking through a crowd, trailing his target, and had been struck silent and stupid by the sight of a young, blonde boy struggling for breath next to what must be his mother. She’d reached for her son with shaking hands and quickly placed her hand on his chest, trying to remind his body what it was like to breath without panic. The Soldier’s mind had immediately surged with a panic that felt foreign after years of calm nothingness and it was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing the boy and rushing to the nearest hospital.

It wasn’t until the boy looked up and the Soldier was staring into brown--brown, brown was wrong--eyes that he could pick out all the ways the boy wasn’t who he was looking for. His jaw was too soft, hair just a few shades too red, and Stevie had never had the soft features of this child.

The name rang like a gong in his brain, jarring in its familiarity.

Stevestevestevestevestevesteve

Like one couldn’t exist without the other, his name returns as easily as it had the first time he’d introduced himself to the bloody but triumphant boy.

I am James Buchanon Barnes.

“Bucky,” he corrected himself quietly. “My name is Bucky.”

He couldn’t even focus long enough to respond to his handler’s sharp order to get moving. The brawny man stepped closer, hand raised threateningly and suddenly all Bucky can think about is the huddle of broad shouldered boys closing in on a flash of blonde hair and fire in bright blue eyes. There’s enough space in the crowded shopping area that he’s in no danger of being struck, but he knew if he hesitated any longer there will be more soldiers, more men streaming in to drag him back into the dark and cold cells.

Back to the Chair so he can relearn the meaning of suffering.

He stared at the boy for a moment longer, despite his shortening leash. He watched the way his mother smoothed sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead and shushed him when he tries to babble out an apology. It jostled free a name from the edges of his mind and settled something deep within him. Sarah. Sarah Rogers.

Oh god, he promised Sarah he would watch out for Stevie. He told her he’d keep him safe.

He needs to find Steve.

Another sharp word in his ear made him return to the task at hand. The only way he can find Steve is if he has access to information and there is no better source for information on Steve Rogers than Hydra. There is no doubt that they are the ones responsible for the breaks and fractures in his mind and the heavy weight of the arm at his side. For whatever reason they took him and shaped him into a weapon that would further their insanity.

Bucky tried not to think about what must have happened to Steve that he would let him remain in Hydra’s control for so long.

___________________________________________________

And it has been a long time. A lifetime has passed since the war, if the dates on the newspapers are to be believed. January of 2011 feels as close to him as the fantasy lands described in the books he’d once collected. It’s like he’s been transported into the future with only a trail of spotty memories to link him to his past. They come and go in flashes and he lets them--there are more important things to discover than just how much blood is on his hands.

People are dressed differently, allow their hair to flow long and loose without a hat to cover it, and speak into devices that make him curious. He sneaks one away from a distracted teenager on his way past and tucks it away in an inner pocket for later analysis. It sits oddly against the familiar weight of a hidden gun.

At first, he anticipates fighting his way free from his handlers and the contingent of agents that escort him after his mission, certain that they would sense the way his mind is working for the first time in decades. Bucky is sure that his eyes will flash with the unholy fire that has been growing inside him like a storm with each memory that returns to him.

To his disappointment--or maybe it’s relief-- none of the men surrounding him seem to notice the changes in him.

They cuff him with dense metallic cuffs that force his arms to remain still and order him to sit in the back seat of the car then begin to talk amongst themselves. His handler shoots him a few looks, but he just lets his face go slack and lifeless and tells himself to focus on sorting through the maze of emotions and memories that trickle in relentlessly. He spends the ride staring down at the metal arm attached to his shoulder that ripples and shifts like the feathers of a bird.

He tries to track back through the years of being a shell controlled by Hydra, but all his brain seems to want to produce is image after image of Steve.

Steve laughing at something Dum Dum says under his breath with the firelight reflecting the chiseled planes of his place. Steve sitting with his shoulders bowed as though he carried the weight of the world there. Steve smiling softly, wistfully at Bucky just before they stepped onto the train that would change everything. Steve screaming at him above the roar of the wind and the engine, his hand stretched out in a futile attempt to drag him back to safety. They rattle around his thoughts like a magnet pulling free memories and sensations that he’d believed had been burned out of him for so long.

Even worse are the tempting glimpses of smooth pale skin gleaming in the lamplight and fingers curling through golden hair.

They take him to a tall, nondescript building at the corner of the town--Harlem, his brain supplies sluggishly--and shuffle him inside quickly. He’s careful to be complacent and move wherever they push him without resistance. One of the guards keeps a hand firmly on the back of his neck to propel him forward while the others are careful to keep their guns steady on him.

It pleases him to think that despite all that they must have done to him, Hydra was still afraid of what he would do if they ever lost control. It tells him that he hasn’t been the silent weapon they’d been training.

Three floors below the plain apartment building facade, Bucky is led into a gleaming medical facility that sits in blatant contrast to the cells he can make out along the corridor. At his arrival, the agents push him over to a examination chair and step back so the doctors and nurses waiting nearby can move closer.

“Any problems?” A lean faced woman with a clipboard asks his handler.

“He froze up for a minute or two in the mall,” the man--his handler, his mind supplies--says with a grunt. “Just kept staring at this kid having an asthma attack.”

The doctor frowns, flicking through her notes before she waves off the complaint. “It’s a common error. We’ve never quite managed to keep him from reacting to little triggers like that.”

Bucky lets them talk about him like he’s some inanimate object and doesn’t protest when one of the nurses grabs his arm and takes his blood pressure. It gives him the opportunity to lean close enough to read the notes the doctor had been looking at.

Patient: Winter Soldier

Recovered 1946 under the supervision of Armin Zola.

Just the name of the beady eyed little scientist is enough to make a cold sweat trickle down his back and his pulse spike enough that the pretty red headed nurse taking his blood pressure frowns at him. He forces himself to stare blankly at the ground until his pulse returns to normal. There would be time to process the complicated wash of emotions threatening to drown him when he wasn’t surrounded by enemies.

Maybe he can grab the files later and find out what other nightmares had come true for him.

“Guess that means the rumors about Captain America are true, huh?” Another soldier says from somewhere over Bucky’s left shoulder. Bucky focuses on keeping his breathing steady and his eyes fixed on the floor. His left arm makes an odd noise that thankfully goes unnoticed.

Bucky’s handler makes a sharp gesture at the man who’d spoken. “Shut up, Derrick. You know you aren’t supposed to speak about him in front of the Soldier. Fucks up his programming.”

Derrick makes a disgruntled noise, clearly unhappy about being called out so openly. “It’s not like it matters,” he complains, “Rogers went down in that plane ages ago. Dead as a doornail.”

________________________________________________

Knowing Steve is dead sits like a stone in his gut.

He wants to rage, to scream at whatever deity decided that Steve Rogers deserved to die after surviving so much. Bucky should have been there. He would have hauled that stupid punk’s giant body out of the cockpit and into a parachute if it was the last thing he did. He would have called Peggy and given her the coordinates to keep him from--from drowning. From slowly losing the feeling in his long, artist’s fingers and crooked toes before the water closed over his head.

Did he try to escape? Or was he too hurt to pull himself free from the ice and cold? Bucky’s mind was full of image after image of Steve’s final moments and how badly he’d failed him.

The thought of Steve being alone at the end made him vomit up the protein shake he’d been given before being tossed into his cell.

Sinking heavily onto the thin cot, Bucky raked his fingers through the tangled length of his hair. It was odd to feel it brush against the back of his neck and he lets the strangeness of it center him against the chaos in his mind. Odds are his cell is heavily monitored as every other movement he’s made here and he can’t risk giving away the fact that his mind and the bastardized version of the serum Zola gave him is slowly piecing together the fragments left behind by the Chair.

If Steve is gone--even the thought makes him swallow hard and his hands shake--then there is nothing left to do but finish what he started. Hydra had to be destroyed.

His position as their ‘Asset’ made it possible for him to do more than just blow up a few buildings and hope it was enough to destroy a few heads. Steve was always the one who wanted to run in with guns blazing and the honesty of an open fight. Peggy, however, had taught Bucky the value of gathering information and using it to shake apart an organization at their foundations. He needed to rip Hydra out by the roots.

That meant running wasn’t an option. Somehow, he had to survive whatever hell was still waiting for him here and wait for an opportunity to strike back. His time in the medical lab and in the transport showed him how easy it could be to go unnoticed among the agents. For all their fear of the Winter Soldier, none of them expected him to be present or aware of what was going on around him. He was merely a bomb waiting to explode.

So he would wait. He would gather the ammunition he could use to drag every rotten piece of Hydra into the light and then, when the time was right, he would avenge Steve Rogers.

___________________________________________________

It was shockingly easy to pass along information on Hydra to interested parties. He even managed to get a few agents killed for negligence in the process. Spying had never been a natural gift for him, but he watched enough of Peggy Carter’s antics to make a decent effort.

No one would ever expect the Fist of Hydra of being a spy. How could he be when his brain was fried every time they woke him out of cryo?

So he sabotages an assassination a an English diplomat and leaves incriminating photos on the desk of an Interpol agent that leads to a human trafficking ring getting wiped off the map. He manages to plant three backdoors into Hydra’s mainframe before the technicians realize vital information is being leaked onto the internet. He is particularly proud of how many of his handlers are ‘accidentally’ maimed on the job.

They notice eventually, of course. These malfunctions. Their perfect weapon is not so perfect without steady maintenance to clear away the rebellion in his eyes or the slight delay in response to commands.

Even with his memories back, he couldn’t resist the terror that this time the Chair would work. This time they’d finally be able to reach inside him and drag out every memory he carefully cultivated and replace it with empty darkness. It took all his control to let them pin him in place, to open his mouth for the guard that kept him from shattering his teeth, and let that awful metal crown settle over his face.

Each time he forces his mind to rebuild each memory with painstaking detail and lists each person he can’t afford to lose to the crackle of electricity and burning light.

Steve.

Rebecca.

His ma and pa.

The Commandos.

He repeats the list like a mantra as he straps on knives and guns and looks at the picture of the latest victims of Hydra. It keeps his hands steady when there’s blood cracking in the wrinkles of his leather body armor and deep in the grooves of his metal arm where no one bothers to clean. It keeps his screams at bay late at night when he’s alone and waiting for the horrors of the next day.

Weeks pass.

When his handler leads him to the cryo tube, he doesn’t fight. Just lets the ice steal his breath and slow his heart.

He thinks of Steve.

______________________________________________

The next time he wakes it is to a world gone mad.

Instead of a team of doctors and agents waiting for him to tumble into their arms on legs gone weak from the cryostasis, he opens his eyes to the closed metal door of his tube. For a moment, he panics. Had they finally decided to finish the job they’d started so long ago and buried him in this metal coffin? Was this some new form of torture meant to destroy him?

Before he can begin to hyperventilate and use up the precious oxygen in the tube, he hears the whir of the arm at his side like the sound of reinforcements arriving after weeks on the front. It is unbothered by the time spent frozen and unhampered by things like human panic and confusion. It slams into the wall of the tube with a deafening clang. Again and again.

The first rush of oxygen was a revelation. It brought with it dim lighting that flickered oddly against the shadows of the tube and Bucky set about peeling himself out like a sardine from a can. The noise is awful after the quiet and his muscles are trembling, but he refuses to stay inside the cage for a minute longer.

Minutes pass before he finally has a space large enough to reach his arm out and fumble for the latch that forces the door to creak open with one final protest. He nearly collapses without the walls supporting him, but he knows his muscles will recover soon enough. Until then, he can figure out what the hell happened while he was forced to sleep.

What was once an immaculately clean prep room is not pockmarked and scarred with ash and debris. The door hangs open on broken hinges and the computer banks have gone hollow and silent. A flicker of light sparks from where the wires connected the cryo tube to the power source flashed bright and sudden thanks to a wide gash that exposed the inner workings.

Shaking and pale, Bucky gets to his feet with the help of the metal casing and scans the room for anything that might be useful. A quick search of the tables leaves him with nothing but a few spare bits of paper scorched beyond repair. He leaves the room as quietly as possible on the off chance that there are still agents of Hydra alive in the compound even as his enhanced hearing didn’t hint at more than a few ambitious rats.

He finds clothes in an abandoned locker that are tight around his chest, but cover his arm well enough. It helps keep the tremors at bay while he scouts for more supplies. Boots come from one of the few bodies left behind in what must have been a mad rush for the exits. He doesn’t think about how the smell of a rotting corpse doesn’t bother him any longer. There is even a Glock with a spare clip of ammo on the body’s belt that he takes with a grateful breath.

Then he begins to make his way outside.

He keeps his eyes peeled for anymore guards or agents coming to reclaim their lost weapon, but there’s nothing but destruction waiting for him. The ground floor is covered in more rubble and daylight pours in through the broken plate glass windows on the outer walls. The first signs of life come from the sounds of men shoveling and shifting the worst of the destroyed concrete out of the way of the street.

Bucky winces at the bright light and carefully tucks his gun out of sight. The construction workers haven’t noticed him yet so he takes a minute to scan the street.

Like the rooms below, what was once a busy city street in the middle of Harlem has been transformed into a scene taken from every soldier’s nightmare. Smoke streams in lazy lines across the sky from massive craters carving holes in buildings and streets. Ash drifted down like snow and painted the world in shades of grey. Bucky coughs and pulls up the collar of his shirt to cover his mouth as he spins slowly in a circle.

Then he gasps in horror.

A massive...beast--monster, his mind supplies, a monster--is laying draped over the roof of one building and spilling onto the streets below. It’s covered in some sort of armored plating that did nothing to disguise the massive teeth and weapons still hanging limply from its sides. Several smaller, more humanoid creatures are scattered along the street in piles where workers in bright orange vests have piled them.

What the hell happened while he was asleep?

“Hey buddy!”

Bucky’s mouth snaps shut with a click and he whirls to face the construction workers that are just outside what used to be a Hydra base. Now...now it was just another destroyed building in a city full of the same. He stares at the dark skinned man whose features are marred by streaks of grey ash and dirt along with his well worn clothing.

Something in Bucky’s expression must read as strange to him because he hesitates when he got closer. “You alright, man?”

“I…” Bucky licks his lips and tries to clear his throat. It had been so long since someone had spoken to him beyond barked orders that it was a struggle to remember that he was a human, not just a tool. “What happened?”

The worker stares at him strangely. “What do you mean?”

Awkwardly, Bucky gestures to the street around them. “Wh--were we attacked? Are we at war?” Now the man looks concerned and Bucky knows he can’t pass as some hapless civilian. Thinking quickly, he drags his fingers through his hair and winces, “Think I took a hard hit back there, pal.”

The man doesn’t look convinced, but now he walks closer and takes in the blood from the scrapes he’d gotten pulling himself out of the tube. After a beat, he gestures to somewhere further down the street. “There’s a medic station at the end of the block if you’re hurt,” he says slowly and frowns again at the building Bucky had come from. “You’ve been sleeping this whole time?”

Bucky’s lips twist into a mockery of a smile. “Something like that.”

[50shadesofmittens]

Completely fucking unfinished but I wanted something from this AU to make it online

<I have decided to call this the Headlockverse. Basically the idea is a group of Custodians used to sneak out of the palace in order to do the kind of work ALL Custodes in cannon have been doing, and Kitten was one of them. Then all bar Kitten died, and after a brief period of being mad and then being lost Kitten took over alltheir jobs. One of these tasks was keeping tabs on various fragments of Magnus who have sentience and were deemed unable to be kept safe in the palace for one reason or another, or who kept escaping the palace. As it happens, these interactions are sometimes unplanned and sometimes have unusual results. The song Headlockby Imogen Heap reflects the relationship Kitten has with the various Magnus-fragments he’s met over the years- with the Crimson King ie the guy on Sortarius being the only one who has not met Kitten over the years>

…/…/…/…/…/…|…\…\…\…\…\…

Millennium 42, unknown restaurant

…/…/…/…/…/…|…\…\…\…\…\…

There is something very pertinent about anticipation.

Some would think that minutes were nothing in the life of an eternal, but there are certain things that can only occur on small time scales. There’s a certain mix of terror, doubt, and a conviction one struggles to maintain, and this mixture can only be experienced in the handful of minutes that it lasts. Time seems to stretch out and the feeling weighs on a person even once the wait is over, but mere days later that terror is forgotten. People remember the way they botched their audition or stumbled during their interview, but no longer can they remember why.

I spotted her on the catwalk wearing a nice dress and a headscarf. Even her satchel looked like something a local woman would keep, and at a distance I wasn’t sure if she’d dressed up the bag she always kept at hand or splurged and got a new one from a local shop. It was certainly fancy enough for her to pass as someone who had access or gifts from my own funds, with my silk jacket and gold-woven cravat.

I flagged her down. She smiled at me and left to maneuver her way over. Ringing a bell summoned the waiter, and I gave the man a brief description of my ‘young lady friend.’ The server smiled and promised they’d send in the right girl.

Sure enough, when the knock came and the door opened, she was right behind the waiter. Before we were even alone she leapt onto the plush sofa to embrace me.

“Oh my darling, it’s been so long! Oh, we have so much to talk about, so much to do! Mwah!” She cried with all the drama of a rapturous preacher as she planted a kiss on my cheek.

The waiter bowed swiftly and closed the door, leaving the two occupants alone for our ‘reunion.’ She remained enthusiastic in her hugging, and so I told her;

“You know jumping on me disturbs the displacer field. The waiter might’ve noticed.”

“But he didn’t.” A snicker echoed through the small dining room, and she pulled back with a shit-eating grin. “A man like that knows full well to look the other way as soon as a young, pretty thing moves in to greet her host. You wouldn’t have picked this place without checking every security detail and privacy guarantee. You always read the fine print.”

“It’s still an unnecessary risk you created.”

“I know, darling.” She kissed me again, still leaning on my arm. “But if you’re going to go through all the trouble of setting me up as your quote-unquote mistress, it’s only polite that I give them a show. To respect the effort you’ve put in, I mean.”

“Ana-” I said, trying and failing to be annoyed by her antics.

“&#131;&#131;&#131;&#131;.” Ana said, finally leaning back and doing her best impression of my “Ana-be-serious” face. “Is there something I’ve done wrong?”

I didn’t answer, knowing this game all too well. “Is the planet about to be exterminatus’d? Is my better half about to find me?” Ana continued, “Is one of my brothers about to jump out from behind that curtain and drag me, kicking and screaming, all the way home so he can cut off my head in front of billions of onlookers?”

“No. None of those things are about to happen.”

“Then you can stop looking so dour and glum.” Ana flicked my nose, before settling a bit farther away on the couch. “Now, I’m sure you’ve got some terrible news about Angelos or Cadia or something, but it’s been too long and I want to mooch off your funding. Let’s get lunch first and catch up on the non-apocalyptic news- however scarce it may be these days- and then you can fill me in on who’s killing who.”

“Ana-” I sighed. “please keep it at a reasonable amount.”

“Perks of being my parole officer; every lunch meeting is a feast.”

“You know we’re supposed to be mortals.”

Ana grinned. “Ah, but what rich young man takes his mistress out and doesn’t spoil her with more than she needs?”

“They might notice when we order seven pounds of food and they get back empty plates.”

“So we order fourteen pounds and eat seven. It’s fiiine. You worry too much.” She grinned. “Besides. It really has been too long. You still seeing that one girl?”

She grimaced. “Urk, never mind. Y’know breaking the furniture like that is just as unusual as my appetite, right?”

I unclenched my hand from the edge of the table. Ana was right, there were handprint-shaped indents in the iron surface. Handprints that reflected the true size of my hands.

I pressed my elbow into the table, rolling it back and forth to conceal the pattern in a smoother dent. “I’m fine.” I said. “I’ve been studying lately, so there’s not much to report.”

“If you say so.” Ana said. “Alright then, I know what I want to order. Let’s get some food, and then I can tell you what I’ve been up to.”

“You haven’t even looked at the menu.”

“I got a glance of one open on a table I passed on my way to you.” With that she leaned over me and pulled the bell-string.

I didn’t pay much attention while Ana ordered. When the waiter turned to me I pasted on a smile and said, “I trust she’s got enough food for us to share.”

“I see, sir. Are you happy with Miss V’neer’s customizations?”

“Missus, actually. And it’s pronounced ‘veh-near,’ not ‘van-ear.’” Ana said.

“Apologies, Madame.” I was a little impressed the waiter didn’t even flinch, even though Ana’s clothes were nowhere near expensive enough for her to pass as my wife.

“I trust her taste.” I said.

The waiter left with a bow, and Ana turned back to me. “You feeling a little better?”

I opened my fists. Only a little bit of blood, and most of it dried by now. “Well enough.” I said.

“Remind me to never bang you.”

“Remind me to never get insensate around you.”

“HA!” Ana laughed. “Wouldn’t stop me from robbing you blind, kitty-cat. I don’t need to pick your pocket, all I gotta do is get you to buy me lunch.”

“So true.” I said. “Pity. I can only flinch so much before it starts gets noticed.”

“Bull. You’re the only one there who pays attention. Everyone else lives in their own little bubbles of their obsessions and duties.”

“The Ecclisiarchy is surprisingly rational, these days.” I said. “The ones who make it to the palace are all true believers, at least.”

“I sincerely doubt your perception isn’t skewed by all the madness in that place.” Ana sighed. “Well, the preachers are less crazy than the Inquisition, I’ll give you that.”

Our food arrived. I looked out the window as Ana cooed over the food and asked questions to the waiter. All the people in the city, each with their own lives and dreams and fears and aspirations. How pitifully beautiful.

Finally the waiter left, and Ana dug in. I’m not sure which of us was giving the other space, but I felt indebted to her all the same.

“That isn’t a promise.” Ana said, eyes glued to the reflection in her cup. “For all you know He just wants to kill me.”

“Nonetheless, there’s a good chance I’ll be hosting you. Ana. I need to know more about what I’m getting into. I need to know how much danger we’re going to be in.”

“Do I still confuse you?” She smirked. “It’s not that hard. I in the whole sense am a fractured being. Just because I in the personal sense have multiple aspects to myself doesn’t mean I’m any less than a fragment of a human.”

“Yet you still show traits outside of your base drives.”

“Mm.” She took another sip. “Humans weren’t made to be two-dimensional caricatures. If I have a thought that would better suit a me who isn’t me personally, then I simply won’t think that thought. It’ll be thought by that me.

”Kleptomania, Anima, self-analysis, insufferable love of gene-dad-jokes, love of the Sapphic-” She grinned, “obviously, and a few others- all those are mine and mine alone.”

“But how does it work.”

“Well, occasionally I start thinking very, very hard about two or more beautiful women and/or daemonettes flicking each other, so presumably the rest of me has no appreciation for yuri and the associated genres.”

“So it works like intrusive thoughts? If, say, you got into a barfight ‘cause you stole some bloke’s purse and banged his wife, and he said something dumb and you reallywanted to punch him, that desire to punch a man would go to the Crimson King?”

“You’re focusing very hard on this ‘guest’ thing.” Ana pouted. “I mean, what red-blooded pansexual doesn’tget distracted by the thought of two birds getting it on?”

“A) one who also has a healthy dose of self-control and self-restraint, and B) has that everworked on me?”

“Point. But seriously, you’re unusually on edge. Usually that would get you to crack a smile-”

“I’ve got an unstoppable daemon primarch about to arrive in the holiest place in the galaxy.”

“You need to calm down, Amon. You’re too wound up, you’re not thinking clearly-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Xanalyse. Damn fuckin right I’m tense, I’m about to be the only person standing between the Emperor and oblivion!And I’m all alone because everyone under my command either hates my guts or doesn’t listen to a word I say, and you won’t help me redeem yourself!” He stood, throwing his hands up in exasperation. They got caught under the edge of the table and overcame the strength of the bolts securing it to the floor, flipping the entire table over and spilling food across the room.

They both stared, neither one having expected such a reaction. For a moment the room was quiet but for Amon’s heavy breathing. Ana waited until his breath evened out, or he started up again. He did not.

“… It’s flattering that you think I could destroy Father.” She said, bitter smile on her face. “And… you’re right. I haven’t been very helpful. Maybe it’s time I learned to live with myself.”

“Ana…”

“Delusion. Self-hatred. Wrath. Whoever else you haven’t told me about.” “They may be me, yet I still fear them. And can you blame me? Delusion so powerful it bends reality itself and destroyed all rationality is insanity. If I am wrong, then I must be mad to fear being swallowed up in it.”

“Ana I didn’t-”

She continued. “Self-hatred so strong it lashes out into the warp, psyker powers no longer at the beck and call of the psyker but instead summoning daemons and incurring hatred. Self-fladgillation so extreme it destroys everything and everyone around the poor boy.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Wrath so powerful that the desire to destroy becomes the only known goal of the man. That pursuit of revenge becomes an obsession, stripping away all other goals. To the point that he’d rather be a slave to an uncaring god than let ancient war crimes be forgiven.”

She shook her head. “I must be the stupidest bitch in the galaxy if I’m not desperate to feel that! Tell me, Amon, have you faced down all the ugliest parts of your own heart?”

“…I’m sorry.” Amon said. “That was insensitive of me.” He sighed, and flopped down to the couch.

“…I know that there’s no avoiding myself forever.” She whispered. “But at the same time, I know I’m not strong enough to overcome myself. In the end, it’ll be Reveul’s partner and the King. Billy and me, we’re good as gone.”

She looked Amon head-on. “It’s a bitter loop of growth and despair. I go out, face some unimaginable horror, and I survive because I’m me. I stay unchanged, because either I turn my trauma into rage at the monster, or I lie to myself about how much danger I was in. Except I can’t think those thoughts, and they go to another me. Then that me gets a little stronger, ‘cause there’s more of me personally contributing to his identity.

“You want to know how to fight the King? Then know this; we’re still connected to each other. Every time I meet someone so monstrous I want to destroy that person completely, he feels it for me. And every time he wants to nick someone’s shit, I feel it for him. I am still one person, even if different parts of me control different aspects. If I start changing, if I become a more aggressive person, then that part of me gets stronger.

“That’s why I can give a damn about my sons. That part of me died ten thousand years ago, but that just means any thoughts about them aren’t limited to just one of me. I rebuilt that part of myself from the ground up over these millennia. I’ve changed, and…

“I don’t know how much of me is someone I want to be. If insanity overpowers honor, rage overpowers curiosity, and guilt overpowers innocence I just… I don’t know if I’m someone I can love anymore.”

Amon didn’t know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing to say. Nothing that would make the galaxy they lived in any less of the shit-storm it was.

“I have honor, but not personally.”

[edream93]

Since you are on a angst mood, I don't know how angst this can go, but you should write a prompt about Harry and Uma (before they got a ship & crew) where they fight and stop talking but they don't know what to do without each other and they really want to apologise but it's go against how they were raised on the Isle. And maybe they get really angry about this whole situation. Please make them being friends again on the end!!!

Anonymous asked: Are you still taking prompts? Angst is my lifeline and the romantic angst cliches got me like woah My prompt is Uma and Harry and bandaging each other’s wounds. If your not taking prompts anymore than its ok!

Omg, anons. I felt like I was hurting my own children! So cruel! Anyway, I hope you both don’t mind but I kind of put your two requests together. It just made sense while I was writing it. Hope you both enjoy and thank you for being patient!

(Also, the bracelets was inspired by someone on here who did some amazing analysis on the bracelets that Harry and Uma were wearing in the movie. I unfortunately can’t remember who but if you were that person so much thanks goes to you!)

Warnings: Some cursing.

—

One week.

That damn bullheaded pirate hadn’t talked to her in a week.

Uma scrubbed harder at one of the pans she was cleaning, soapy water spilling over the sink at her vigorous movements.

What the fuck was he thinking, making her wait a week? Since they met, they had never gone a day without seeing each other at least once. (Ursula had tried to forbid them from seeing each other once, very early on but either Uma sneaked out or Harry sneaked in.)

Growling, fed up (and hurt) with her oldest confidant’s absence, Uma slammed the pan she was cleaning hard into the sink, sputtering when some of murky dishwater splashed back up in her face. She tore off her apron, taking a moment to wipe off her face though her angry scowl was still firmly placed on her face.

She stomped passed Cook, muttering that she’d be back before cutting her way through the Chip Shoppe’s front room and out into the ever present gray daylight of the Isle.

The daughter of Ursula stomped her way down the wharf, passing by old drunken sailors and tired looking wenches attempting to start work early. Most ignored her though one idiotic drunken soul thought it would be funny to greet her with “Shrimpy”…He quickly found himself sobering up amongst the killer sharks that surrounded the Isle.

Uma allowed herself a moment to enjoy the man’s misfortune before someone chuckling nearby caught her attention. Brown eyes narrowed. She knew that chuckling.

Moving closer to the edge of the market, Uma saw the source of the chuckling and felt her blood boil at the sight. Before her was Harry sitting on a barrel, surrounded by a group of Madam Mim’s granddaughters, all flirtatiously laughing and reaching out to touch his arms, his hands, his cheeks (no one dared touch his hook though) as he told them some tale or another. He reached out with his hook, using the polished metal to caress the nearest one’s cheek causing her to blush deeply and break into a flurry of giggle that made Uma want to gouge the girl’s eyes out.

“Harry.”

The young pirate looked up, flirtatious grin morphing into one of complete shock that nearly knocked him off his barrel.

“Uma!”

The seawitch snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, hip cocked to the side. “Oh!” she said with mock surprised. “You remember my name? I wasn’t sure since you’ve been avoiding me for a week,” she ended with a hiss.

“Maybe he was avoiding that shrimp smell,” one of girls murmured a little too loudly, making the others break out into hackling laughter. Said girl grabbed onto Harry’s arm, ignoring the way he tensed and the way Uma’s scowl deepened as the girl clutched on to the pirate.

“And maybe you’re avoiding your brain because you really need to get a clue, girly” Uma snarled stepping up and shoving the girl off of Harry, missing the slight smirk the pirate gave her as she pulled him away from the pouting group of girls and past several alleys until she found one that would be secluded enough for her plans.

“Ya know, I’m not much one for a quickie, love,” Harry sighed, leaning against one of the alley’s walls. He looked bored and for a moment, Uma found herself hesitating. He had never directed anything other than mischievous grins and looks filled with the utmost devotion towards her.

“That, that isn’t why I dragged you here for, Hook!” she stomped. The rage she felt early was still present but here, now alone with him she realized that the rage had been hiding a deep ache that she only even now realized was there because the source of it all was so close…but so out of her reach.

“Then make it quick, whatever it is, Uma” he pushed himself away from the wall. “Maybe if we can finish this up soon enough, I can still have some fun with one of Madam Mim’s girls. At least they’re upfront with what they want.”

“Upfront? UPFRONT? When the seven hells have I not been upfront with you, Harry?” Uma snarled ignoring the weird way her stomach flopped at the thought of Harry messing around with any girl. “Fuck you! You know damn well why I’m upset at you!”

“Do I?” Harry stepped towards her menacingly, his eyes wide with a manic look as he swaggered slowly towards her. Similarly to before with Mim’s granddaughter, he caressed Uma’s cheek though noticeably with his bare hand and not his hook, lips twitching upward momentarily when he felt her lean into it, just slightly. He sighed. “I ain’t no mind reader, Uma,” he said softly, sounding like a man already defeated. “You gotta tell me what you want.”

Perhaps it was because the last week she had been worked to the bone by her mother. (She had knocked over several plates, shattering them almost every time someone entered the shop, hoping it would be her pirate and disappointed when it wasn’t.) Perhaps it was because she hadn’t gotten much sleep this week, staying up late to wander the docks (looking but afraid that she would find her worst nightmare: a tattered red coat on a bloated cold body). And perhaps it was because when she finally put aside her pride and found his sisters to ask him about his whereabouts, they had been less than hospitable. (Uma and his sisters were never close but the amount of venom Harriet had spoken to her with was unprecedented and if Uma thought about it hard enough, protective of her wayward brother.) Whatever it was, Uma gave in to it.

“You…”Uma sighed, surprising Harry speechless as she reached up to grab his hand, deep brown eyes piercing bright blue.

The son of Hook barely had time to respond before the alley seemed to darken inexplicably. Both sea witch and pirate turned to see three large figures blocking the entrance of the alley.

“Well, well, lookie what we got here, fellas,” the first thug snickered crookedly as he stepped further into the alley, ignoring the way the two teenagers tensed at his approach. “A lad and his lass.”

“Fuck off,” Uma growled.

“I’d do what the lady says,” Harry grinned, stepping towards them hook raised. It wasn’t until the three men saw the polished hook and took in the bright teal color of the girl behind them that they realized that they may have made a mistake…

—

A little less than an hour later, and three beaten and bloody thugs later, Uma found herself and Harry sitting on the sad excuse of a mattress squeezed into her closet size room, tucked into the back of the chip shoppe. Harry sat, with one of Uma’s legs thrown across his lap while the other was tucked underneath her, using the candlelight to help guide her as she tore and wrapped the cleanest pieces of linens she could find around the boy’s torso. Though they had managed to come out of the altercation as the victors, Harry had sustained a cut on his side when he was momentarily distracted by one of the thugs coming up behind Uma.

“You’re an idiot,” Uma stated plainly.

Harry sighed, tapping a staccato beat against her leg on his lap. “Aye.”

“But you’re my idiot.”

He turned his head as much as he was able a look of complete disbelief on his face as he was only able to stare down at the top of her head. “Aye, that I am,” he murmured, taking the liberty to kiss the crown of her head. And if Uma gave a light but warmth-inspiring kiss to his shoulder as she finished up tying his last bandage in response ,he wouldn’t comment on it. Not now at least.

“There,” Uma murmured pulling away from him slightly to readjust herself next to him, his arm easily wrapping around her shoulders. “So…are you going to tell me why you were ignoring me for a week, Hook?”

Harry snorted. “Wasn’t ignoring you lass. Didn’t yer mom tell-” he stopped instantly at the deadpanned look Uma gave him. “Right. I’m an idiot,” he growled, rubbing his face with his usual hook wielding hand in realization and annoyance. “She didn’t tell ye and then you never knew.”

“Tell me what?” Uma demanded.

With an excited look of glee that was more boyish excitement than his usual wicked mischief, he pulled away from her, reaching out for his jacket and pulling something out of his inside pocket. When he turned back towards her, he was biting his lip, looking unsure as he handed over the small bundle wrapped in scrap fabrics.

Uma took it wordlessly, opening it and revealing two beaded bracelets, one was all white except for two red beads and the other was all red except for two white beads. They were beautiful.

“It was for your birthday last week. Ursula was supposed to tell you to come to the docks. I had the whole day planned filled with mischief and vandalism and- Well, I guess it was all for nothing and I only wound up hurting ye” Harry sighed, looking down.

Uma observed the two bracelets closely. Partially speechless. How could she have been so stupid to assume that Harry had abandoned her like all the others? Like her supposed friends? Like her mother? (Like Mal?) This boy who had allowed himself to get beaten up for her when everyone called her Shrimpy? This boy who had seen her at her lowest?

(Gods am I stupid…she thought.)

She first slipped on the white bracelet onto her wrist before taking one of his hands and putting the red one on his wrist.

“Now we match,” she simply holding his hand.

Harry smiled, slotting his fingers through his. “Aye.”

And all was forgiven.

[iphoenixrising]

Not the original Justice is Blind anon, but man, I really like that verse. Hopefully more of it will sneak out of the old brain pan. :D

Hi babe. Ah, it’s such an interesting idea, like the logistics behind being a vigilante, and just! Yeah. So here’s a thing for your loves @satire-please will probably throw down about the Black Bird.

**

4

Getting out of Wayne Manor proved to bemore of a pain in the ass than he initially thought it should be. Most of his life, he’s had little adult supervision, fewpeople telling him when and where to go, or if he can’t. Really, Bruce was the first adult to set complicated rules,to hold him back or push him forward (you know, when he was that Robin), but even then, he still had freedom to movewithout restraints. If he needed to hit crime scenes, information sources,track baddies, and later, meet with his allies, his teams, he just went. Hemight shoot B a text, leave a note or something, but he was rarely hindered.

This? One of those rare times.

“We justgot you back from the League of Assassins,” B is arguing, trying to soundreasonable.

Ruffle of a newspaper, a sharp snap, but B isn’t really reading it, noteven skimming, there’s no shift of a thumb over the edges like when he’sconcentrating.

“I already had a way out and othercontingencies. Explosions, remember?” He deadpans, arms crossed over his chest(and since when did it feel odd to be talking to B without a mask orcowl on? When did he start getting an itch of discomfort being in the Manor?…Oh, right, since he’s fucking riff raff).“It’s not like I don’t appreciate Bat intervention, Bruce, I do. Thank-you forcoming, but I have other things that need attention—” Please let me just leavewithout fighting—not in front of Damian and Dick.

“And I am to assume,” Alfred Pennyworthbegins from a few feet by his right side, close to the buffet, smell of coffee,eggs, waffles, and something sharper,probably juice, “these things aremore pressing than a hardy breakfast, Master Timothy?”

Movement, soft steps, a slight heel onthe shoe against the carpet, stronger scent of coffee, warmth of body heat.Without a hitch, he holds out a hand and moves his face only slightly towardAlfred as the saucer fills his palm with a whole lot of familiar. His thumb maps out the engraved vines in the saucer, theW in the center while his first finger automatically dips over the rim of themug, checks how full it is before he lifts it to his mouth for a sip, and just—

God,Alfred coffee is like no coffee ever made.

(And no, he’s not thinking about the room upstairs that’s still his apparently or that Alfred remembershow he likes his coffee—nope, not goingto think about it. Not at all.)

“Crime never stops, Alfred,” hecounters, feeling the heat of gazes on him, standing by the long dining roomtable, in the t-shirt and sweats he woke up wearing (new, not borrowed?), bare feet and face, histoo-long hair probably still a mess with only some water and fingers to runthrough it.

“Perhaps not, young Sir, but itcertainly has a nutritious breakfast beforeplotting sundry nefarious deeds.”

He chuffs a laugh, holding the cup andsaucer. “This is all the breakfast I need, thanks anyway. I need to get back tomy Perch and check on the analysis I have running.”

Another sharp snap of the paper,rustling of it being folded, laid down (close to Dick’s left hand as usual).His empty gaze swings back to Bruce automatically, a Robin action that makes him pause because isn’t this little situation familiar—

Going over his cases with Bruce at thebreakfast table, giving out the details, working through the evidence andsuspects with him, Dick joining them whenever he was in from the ‘Haven. The twoor three of them breaking all the aspects down, looking for the hiddensubtleties, picking crime scenes apart, looking over photographs and analysisresults, circling the dining room table with cups of coffee and a bite of eggor waffle while they muse aloud to one another, while they work together—

It’s a whole lot of nostalgia right here, one that makes hischest tight (because they helped himalong the road to being a detective, to being a vigilante he could be proud of, and like it was all supposedto come back in some crazy kind of circle, here the fuck he is again).

“I can connect the big computer to yoursystem if you want the answers now.” Bruce gives him a way without making it seem so in a way that’s just so Bruce—pushing what he wantsindirectly (Clark has finally gotten as good at reading into it as he has),only pressuring when it’s necessary.

“Isolated V-LAN,” he answers softly,gaze pointing in the direction of Bruce’s voice, “it’s not on a network.” Andif he relaxes a little, just a little—

“If… it is a matter of—” Damian’s voicecuts in, makes his shoulders draw up on some long-established instinct (youknow, being thrown through glasscases and such) even though he’d known the current Robin was there because ofthe sweet musk and patchouli scent underlying Dick’s subtle aftershave, “—howyou must eat, Pennyworth and I have completed research to ascertain the mostappropriate methods of preparation and presentation.”

And here’s the part where he reallyshouldn’t ask any questions, at all.He should put the cup and saucer down, go back upstairs, take the shortcut ventdown to the Cave, find his cowl, and peaceright the fuck right.  

But again, should.

“…research.  About how I eat.” He says it slowly, notreally questions there, but the shifting, creaking, material on wood, theshifts of knees under the table cloth—

“Common practices to cook for thevisually impaired,” Damian explains in a careful, measured tone.

Dick, in his usual place at Bruce’sright hand, pauses in taking in everything (because Tim is back in the Manor)turns only slightly, eyebrows drawn, “you knew.You knew and you didn’t tell me. I’m so disappointed in you right now.”

The sound of cloth moving is theyoungest Robin shrugging, “I was aware, yes. It was, however, not my place totell you. Not without Drake’s permission.”

“Oh? But you could tell Alfred?”

The responding noise is anasty-sounding tt. “Pennyworth is thekeeper of the Bats, Grayson. Of course he must know. You, on the other hand,would poison Drake with your idea of cuisine.”

“I’m insulted, Dami. Tim likes my spaghetti and meatballs!”

And yes, actually, yes he did. Dick usedto put a little sugar in his sauce, just like Mrs. Mac.

Tim sighs softly as they banter backand forth (Robin and his Batman),holding the saucer and cup in the thumb and forefinger of one hand while theother massages the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wants right now is tobe thrown in the middle of their family breakfast—wrong Robin, remember?

“Thanks for looking out, Damian.” Heinterrupts their back-and-forth, catching the irritated tapping of Bruce’sfinger against his own cup and saucer. And, well, maybe he’d been somewhat anxious about trying to eat with all ofthem watching him, assessing, but that was really just a secondary reason. “Butno, I’m fine. Eating isn’t a problem.” Beingup in the Manor, in my old room isthe problem.

“Just working a case before the Leagueof Assassins came calling?” Dick asks, playing the more blatant card ofBruce’s.

Gingerly, he puts the saucer down onthe table, still ignoring the chair he knows is empty on Bruce’s left, has nointention of taking it up again.

“It’s something I need to get back to,”he replies instead, tone carefully empty because Dick and whatever crazy plan must be going through his head.

“Tim. You don’t have to go,” and it’s the tone of voice when alljoking aside. “Back at Ra’s place, we were serious—”

Sure.“Again, I appreciate the sentiment.”

He turns on his heel, finding thematter settled, and if he hadn’t spent most of his life here, had learned all the ins and outs of Wayne Manor early onduring long spans of crime solving, pacing all over the first floor, he’d havea hand on the wall to guide himself out.

As is, he doesn’t need it (and well, there’s a lot of things he doesn’tneed at this stage of the game), and can take the stairs, can find his old roomagain by muscle memory alone. His phone, previously left on the dresser (oldhabit—don’t think about how Bruce rememberedthat), talks when he hits the main button, an application he made himself.

“How can I assist you?”

“Activate Black Bird, trackingprotocol.” And he ducks slightly, runs a hand around—

Ah. There’s the vent.

“Black Bird activated,” the voice fromhis phone soothes as footsteps outside the open door are silent, but not Batsilent.

“There will be no need for that, MasterTimothy,” Alfred’s voice soothes as he enters the room, something in his handsswaying. “I have collected your suit and sundries.”

Unruffled as always, Alfred is probablyhere to help move it along. You know, outwith the old.

“I appreciate it,” he repeats,straightening, holding out a hand.

Alfred hums and hands the thing over,watching Master Tim’s fingers trace over the pack to find zippers and pouches,watches those fingers pause when theycome to safety pins and old band patches sewn in to the canvas with half-assedstitches.

Alfred fervently hopes it relays thecorrect message.

Tim goes still, dead eyes fixed on aspot just over Alfred’s shoulder. Apparently, he hadn’t gotten everything outof the Manor the first time.

Oops.

He opens his mouth to ask if there’sanything else he should be taking,but Alfred is already moving to the closet, filling in the stunned silence.

“I have taken the liberty of packing alight fare. I do hope you are still partial to my tomato and cheese omelets?”

Shit. His stomach rumbles slightly, andAlfred can probably hear it.

“Thank-you,” is what he can manage,digging into his old (Robin’s)backpack, fingers finding the slick edge of metal, the catch of his harness. Alittle more digging and the heavy cloth of the utility belt pouches, finallyhis fingertips nudge plastic, the side of a regular pair of shades.

Alfred is already back from the closet,standing close, “if you would, Sir?”

He pauses and something plastic touchesthe back of his hand, something with braille written on the other side. Hisfingers move over the tag hoodedsweatshirt; World of Warcraft design. A second tag replaces the first shoes; DC brand; black with blue DC logo.And Tim sits on the bed abruptly with the tag in hand, the other still in thebackpack, gripping the shades, yet to pull them out and on.

And he doesn’t need to see to know Alfred is giving him somekind of look, something that could behere is the last of your clothing, Sir.Please be careful on your way outor something that could even be I shallfetch another should this not be to your liking.

He’s in a bad place to make a guess.

“This is fine,” he finally breathesout.

“Very good. The t-shirt you are wearingis black with white lettering. It reads: The Physics is Theoretical, but theFun is Real.” (Someone obviously knowshim because that? Priceless. Enough that he sniggers) “The sweatpants are alsoblack with a white drawstring.”

He nods but Alfred moves away, pullingout a drawer in the bureau, “would you care for blue, white, or black socks?”

He catches himself from saying blue(since most of his blue clothing used to be the same color as Nightwing’s suit),“white please.”

“Certainly.”

He finally gets himself together enoughto slide on the shades, pull his extendable bo from the utility belt.

“Your hooded sweatshirt is on yourright side, the shoes will be here by your left foot, and the socks laid acrossthem.” And Alfred retreats a few steps, the sound of steps muffled, waiting onsomething.

Going with option number 1, Tim pullson his socks and shoes, sliding the tags in the pocket of the sweats. He slideshis arms through the sleeves of the hoodie, zips it up and adds the backpack.The bo (cane), pops out with the press of a thumb.

“The Rolls is ready at your convenience.”Alfred cuts in as he’s almost through the open door

Again, with the tone of voice, Option 1 or 2 hovers in his brain pan.

“My ride is on the way actually,” he counters,not turning back around. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

The impolite chuff is very familiar inthat being a pain in the ass will makethe butler angry kind of way.

“Master Timothy, if you would be sokind.”

This time, he does turn, bo in one handbecause he must have left something else that needed to be removed so the roomcan turn into a guest room or storage or—

But Alfred’s hands are a completelydifferent type of strength from Bruce’s. A strength that more to do with will. Hands that are recognizable withoutsight, and the grip on his biceps is something jarring, unexpected. It’s been awhile since he’s been…hugged (Dick’soctopus hold and Bruce’s self-recrimination hold notwithstanding).

“What is it, Alfred?” He askshesitantly, staying stiff because he’s only slightlyat a loss here.

“Promise to come back soon. And shouldyou need anything, promise you will call. If it is your preference I not tellMaster Bruce, Master Dick, or Master Damian, then I shall honor that request.However, simply call.”

His mouth works for a second, no soundcoming out.

“Alfred, I—”

“We’ve missed you,” the butler fillsin, “it would ease my conscience if I believed you really would call should you have a need.”

And the laugh is very not one of those ha-ha funny ones. Alfred’s grip justtightens.

**

In the entryway to Wayne Manor, Bruceis waiting. The smell of his cologne, and the utter stillness all he needs tobe able to tell.

The phone in his hoodie pocket chirps, “theBlack Bird has arrived at your destination. Twenty-one steps away.”

There’s a look exchanged between Bruceand Alfred. He doesn’t need to see it to know it’s happening.

“I have a ride.” He answers thequestion before Bruce even has to ask.

But there’s a hand on his shoulder, abig hand that does that familiar thing, groundinghim even after the last few years alone. “Promise you’ll come back beforeyou leave Gotham again.”

His smile is somewhat brittle, smallagainst the dark sunglasses hiding his dead eyes.

“At least patrol with me once if youwon’t come back to the Manor.”

“Batman has a Robin, B.”

The hand twitches and tightens, the oldmemories between them (“Batman needs aRobin!”).

B leans down just enough, “you’re still my Robin, Tim. You always will be,just like Dick and Jason. No matter what other name you take, you’re the boythat wore the tunic for me. You’re my partner. Don’t ever forget that.”

And—

Bruce plucks the glasses off his eyeswithout a hitch and wraps his arms around Tim again, just like he did in theCave, just like he did when he asked if adoption was okay, just like he didwhen it was a hard night and a shaky Robin needed something more than a “Good job.”

It’s so easy, too easy to sink in, togrip right back, fist his hands into the t-shirt, close his eyes, breathe outshakily. It’s too much, making his eyes hot for the first time in…

Well, nope, not going there.

He swallows around the lump in histhroat, but breathes in deep (and who called for hug day or some shit? Really, it’s getting to be a bit much, like where’s Jason Todd and please warn him if thatguy is looking for more than a little stab,stab, bang).

So maybe…he could just agree tosomething, make B feel better about this whole thing, “okay, Bruce. Before I go…something.I’ll call or…something. I don’t know. Patrol or whatever.”

The hand in his hair scratches at hisscalp (and really, it’s a weaknessokay? Steph is the one that figured it out first, so of course she’d spill itto Batman), rewarding him for openingup just a little. When it feels too nice, almost enough to make him sigh andcome back in to eat breakfast at the table after all, he pulls back, ahalf-smile making Bruce think Tim might actually look his age once and a while.The glasses are slid back on his face and Alfred gently opens the front doorfor him as both watch him go. Alfred leans in slightly to say a gentle, “becareful, Master Tim.”

The former Robin pauses long enough tosmile before he starts out into the sunlight.

And the World’s Greatest Detectivecalculates and considers—not for the first time since they brought a sleeping Timto the Manor after the fight with the League—just what the hell Ra’s al Ghulwants with the third Robin anyway. Since Dick and Damian are on a make Tim part of the family again, kick, they might be willing to do some leg work.

[babbierabies]

The dreamer and THE REALM

The dreamer. That's what the people from  THE REALM call me. I mean, it is relevent, because it's true, after all. I'm probably not normal. Well, a good number of us aren't, so I'd say 'different' instead. Every night, when I fall asleep, I end up in what I named THE REALM, which is kind of another world? Like parallel maybe, but everyone can sense that I am not from there and it is mutual, I can feel that I'm not like them. Maybe I have a different aura of something?

The first time it happened, I started to panic. Of course! You get in bed and you wake up in the middle of some securised and isolated hospital bed, with a perception of the world that is altered? No doubt about it, everyone would think something's up.

So I woke up in this bed, wondering 'Where the frick am I?' I remember thinking: 'It's probably a dream', so, not-completely-awaken-me decided that trying to sneak out was the best option. Certainly not.

 You could see from a mile away that I wasn't used to look at a big ass green moon.

Somehow, I learnt that I could faint in a dream. So, I woke up again, later, still in the dream, with someone (I couldn't tell at the moment if they were a woman or a man) sitting next to me, telling me to get my act together. So I did. I saw that they had a white jacket (I think?) that nearly touched the ground, worn jeans with a torn on the left side and surely, the oldest shirt I've ever seen in my entire life, the color looked practically faded. I suppose it was the time for questions, so I started asking them, because they seemed willing to give me answers.

"Uh... where am I?"

The person seemed offended, "You're not even gonna ask my name?" they said, "Well, you probably guessed it, you are in a hospital."

Wow. This is the most helpfull thing ever, I would've never guessed. I think they knew what I was thinking, but whatever. I wanted to know, have answers, but I guess I was still a bit sluggish, so they interrupted me- well, not really since I didn't even open my mouth.

"You know, it's been lots of time since we found you, and this is the first time you open your eyes. Other researchers said that you don't see like us, and that if you ever woke up, you'd be pretty lost. Also, probably not the only thing that will be different." The stranger seemed satisfied to talk alone, so I let them and tried to gather the most informations. After a moment of explanations, I did a little recap.

"Okay, so what you are saying, is that I've been found in some weird place, put in a researcher's lab because something felt different about me, then, y'all thought 'this person doesnt seem to have an identity, lets do experiences on them!', the said researcher is you, by the way, and I was monitored for what? 'Lots of time'? Pardon me but this is crazy as balls!" Yeah, I was pretty much losing it at the moment "How, how did I end up here?"

They sighed, but answered patiently "About that, this is related to your blood analysis, I determined that you were not from here," They shifted "and since it looked like your brain was 'being in action' for about every 13 or 14 hours and during half of that time, with this activity happening at night, we concluded that you were appearing here because of dreams"

What? Dreams? Are you fucking kidding me? What is this bullshit?

"What the fuck! I dont even know you, why should I believe what you say?"

The weird-researcher (Yes this is the temporary name I gave them) responded with a total calm "Here, you are 'the dreamer', it became a common surname for you between us coworkers. Dont believe me, if that's what you want, but we'll see each other in approximatively half a day. Also, your time is up, see you tomorrow!"

They were grinning. The last thing I remember is this weird looking person being happy, as if they were a child that won an argument. then I woke up, but for real this time.

I was laying next to my matress, I probably moved in my sleep. 'What was that' was inches away from going out of my mouth. And 'just a dream' was the answer. It's better like that, let's forget it.

It wasn't until the afternon that I realised that I didn't ask for their name. Ahah, am I losing my manners? I didn't even give my own name...

What I didn't know, was that the next time would be as lively as this one, and that it would not be about to end.

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Hey so whats up yall who see this, but if you could give it a read maybe? Thats the first thing I ever wrote, I dont even know how to make a proper text, some words are probably false but whatevs! its fine, its just that i think i saw a movie? and a sentence they said in it made me think of the word "dreamer" and thats where it went downhill. i had some impulse and the idea of writing couldnt get outta my head. someone probably already wrote a story on this concept i think, bcause it looks pretty simple... anyways i wrote that like, last week and spent the remaining time convincing myself to post it. well if you appteciate it, tell me! ya can write a comment, reblog or just like i'll be happy enough:)

ah and its just meant to be read as a one shot! i know it really not complete but if it was, where would be the mystery? but yea maybe a sequel i dunno.