#i talk meta here but i draw over there…sigh

[thefandomexpert]

i guess my fic stuff should go on my art blog? bc that’s where the associated doodles are???

[deadsetobsessions]

Snart Jr.

Lovely prompt by @stealingyourbones in her long prompts list, in which Danny Phantom meets the Rogues of Central City! This will have multiple parts, I just haven't written them yet.

Disclaimer: I know very little about Captain Cold and Mirror Master despite having watched some of the Flash. The general vibe I get from Flash is that Flash just really cares about his rogues as evidenced by how he talks to them and doesn't immediately one-shot them like I'm pretty sure he could do. And that Captain Cold is a snarky asshole that just wants to steal things and follow his plans as planned? Tbh, the whole mini-arc/episode with him just felt like Snart was trying to coordinate the world's riskiest group project. He was so done by the end lmao

"Huh. That's new."

Danny hovered an inch off of the ground, having just been spat out by swirling green portal. He was going to have to get back to the Zone later to hot potato Skulker through a couple of portals in revenge. He had a math exam he had to study for, dammit.

Danny sighed. Might as well see what's happening. The portals rarely lead somewhere boring, and Danny was bored. He floated further in, form going intangible and invisible as he passed through thick but insulated marble walls. See, Jazz? He could totally plan ahead. He's also learning that he could probably rob a bank easily, but Danny would never.

"Never been spat out in a bank before," he hummed, eyes flickering on the numerous forms of cowering people in the lobby. The goons scattered about don't see him, but it would take another ghost to even detect his presence so it was to be expected. He moved further in with little hindrance and soon touched down onto polished floor behind two incredibly suspicious individuals.

"What-cha do-ing?"

The two figures, currently and obviously robbing a bank, whirled around in surprise. Their respective weapons whirred to a start before they stopped, baffled by the meta teen standing there with his white hair waving about and innocent look pasted all over his face.

Leonard Snart knew instinctively that the kid was so full of shit. He'd bet his entire plan on the fact that the kid knew exactly what kind of shit he was stirring. Still, Snart was guilty of a lot of things but direct child-endangerment wasn't ever one of them.

"How'd you get in here, kid?" Mirror Master raised his laser pistol, ready to distract and divert the kid with threats of violence- which Snart glared at him for- or with his hall of mirrors that he'd run to.

Danny shrugged. "I walked. If you guys didn't want me here, you should have guarded the place better."

"They were supposed to," Snart drawled. He cased the kid. Teen. The kid had a weird halo effect, that seemed to draw the eyes to the stylized letter on his hazmat suit. The kid was young. Meta. Non-hostile. "You trying to stop us?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah. Came from the Ghost Zone so 's really non'a my business. I was just being nosy."

Snart gave a curt nod and nudged Mirror Master back into cracking the security measures.

Mirror Master scoffed. "What the hell is a ghost zone?"

"I mean, it's pretty self explanatory, right? It's a zone where ghosts live. Hence, you know, Ghost Zone." Danny did a little jazz hands (oh, yeah, he was definitely gonna get Jazz to make that joke sooner or later) for emphasis.

Snart paused for the slightest bit before continuing with his task. Did ghosts exist?

"...Did the Flash send you here, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," Danny scowled, walking right up to them. He got enough of that from his own Rogues, thank you. "And what's a Flash?"

"The Flash, kid." Mirror Master corrected, shoving monitors and PC's and expensive looking office chairs into... a mirror dimension? Danny shrugged and rolled with it.

"Who's that? Your boss?"

"Local superhero, not our boss. You're not from here," Snart quickly deduced as a small smile wormed onto his face from successfully cracking the security without setting off an alarm. They'd have ten minutes before the system cycles the access codes again and flags the fraudulent ones. That should be enough time.

"Superhero? Are they fast? Actually, where is here?" Danny glanced around at the now bare security office like the Flash would show up.

The guy in green and yellow took everything not nailed down to the ground. Danny respected that, even if he kind of wanted to stop the robbery. But he's not really supposed to interfere. That would be uber rude, since it looked like the guy in the fur jacket seemed like he had planned everything precisely.

"You're in Central City, kid. Did you take a wrong turn trying to get to Keystone or something?" Green-yellow guy snorted.

"Gonna be real honest with you, I've got no idea where that is. What state are we in?" Danny followed as the pair rushed to the safe doors. He could offer to phase them through but no matter how flexible Danny's morals have become over the years, he was going to draw a line at actively helping a person commit crime.

"Kansas. Do you teleport? Are you a teleporting meta?" Snart asked, eyes intense as he both glared at Danny and pressed an ear to the safe door.

"Nah, I wish I could teleport. Getting to school would be so much faster. Kansas? Huh, I've never been."

"How lost are you, kid?" Mirror Master incredulously paused from robbing the packages that were delivered to the bank.

Danny shrugged. "Oh, I'm Danny. Who are you guys?"

"Captain Cold. That's Mirror Master."

Danny shifted as the safe clicks open. "So, uh, are you guys the villains here?"

Captain Cold shot him a weird look. "We're actively robbing a bank, kid. That should be obvious."

"Also, you're acting real calm for a kid speaking to two of Fawcett's best super-villains." Mirror Master chimed in, laser-ing off locks on deposit boxes and shoving cash and stuff into his mirror dimension.

Danny padded in after them. "Eh, you haven't shot at me- not even on sight- yet, which is more than I can say for law enforcement, so you're pretty chill in my book."

Captain Cold snorted, pointedly taking his freeze gun and breaking off a large manual lock. "I believe it's my job to be the chill one. Plus, we don't kill. The Flash would be up our... business if we did. It's not worth the trouble."

"You can say ass. I've heard worse."

"Not from me, kid."

Danny hadn't had that kind of consideration from anyone in a long time. Even if it's a bit... mother-hennish, the halfa couldn't find it in him to be annoyed. "Ah, okay. Well, you also haven't kidnapped me or tried to stop me from following you, so..."

Mirror Master shoved a giant painting into his dimension. "You haven't tried to stop us; it'd be weird trying to stop you."

"Makes sense."

"Heh. You're alright, kid. Though... who's kidnapping you?"

"My fruit loop of a godfather. It's a thing," Danny avoided the searching gaze like a pro.

"Hold this." Captain Cold said suddenly, giving Danny a massive dufflebag.

"Wait, what?"

Captain Cold began stuffing the bag with cash and once the money in the vicinity (not that much) went in, he said "Go look around. Having another person in here is a risk so you might as well make up for it."

Danny's calling it. Captain Cold was full of shit. The guy's a big softie. Danny smiled sheepishly and agreed. Danny circled the place, pointing out expensive looking stuff- "for fun" and not because they were nice to him- when he felt the tell-tale zaps of an anomaly in Clockwork's domain.

"Move!" He shouted at the two villains, both of whom dove out of the way. Instinctively, Danny threw out his gloved hands and iced the floors, instincts bristling at the incoming danger. His jaw dropped as a blur encountered the ice and went ass over tea kettle onto the floor, unable to stop its own momentum.

"Oh shit!" Danny uttered, eyes wide as the blur slammed into the opposite- reinforced- wall with a pained shout. The stopped person was wearing red, with a lighting bolt motif all over their uniforms. That implied speed. Speed implied "The Flash." Danny knew a hero when he saw one and he just iced him. Shit.

"What-" The Flash groaned. Mirror Master and Captain Cold gaped.

"OhmyancientsI'msosorrygottagobye!" Danny shouted.

"Hey, wait, kid-!" Captain Cold shouted. Danny ignored him, going invisible in a panic and sank into the ground, mortified. After thirty seconds of self-hatred, he zoomed out and away. Danny held his head in his hands as he flew back to where Amity was...

Only to stare down at the empty plots of land where his city was supposed to be. Danny shoved a hand into his chest and pulled out his phone.

[No results for Amity Park. Did you mean "Amity Arkham"?]

"What."

Any research he did after that only turned up a Jasmine Fellona, a budding neurobiologist in her field, and other people that were adjacent to the people Danny knew. But nothing, nothing from Amity Park.

"Oh, yeah, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

---

As the Flash stood around to keep an eye on the hand-cuffed villains, he couldn't help but ask.

"So, uh, Snart. Did you... get a kid?"

"What." Snart asked, incredibly done with this shit.

"You know. Snart junior? With the ice and everything?" Flash gestured at the un-melting ice that covered the floor leading into the safe. "I mean, I'm not thrilled you're pulling your kid into a life of crime..."

"No."

"Wait, you had a kid and didn't tell me?" Mirror Master asked, mildly offended. "That was your kid? No wonder no one shot at him!"

"He's not my kid." Snart gave Flash the stink-eye. "And don't you have a couple of baby sidekicks running around?"

"C'mon dude, you're so obviously fond of him. It's okay, you don't have to hide it." Flash avoided the topic... in a flash.

"Can someone arrest me right now so these idiots can be removed from my vicinity?" Snart snarked to the approaching officer, jerking his head to point at the beaming Flash.

"You and me both, buddy," Officer West sighed.

---

One trip to the zone and a stressful conversation with Clockwork later, Danny was found in his keep, smacking his ghost head into the ghost wall of his ghost keep. Danny would unleash a Wail if it didn't have the nasty habit of bringing everything around him.

Apparently, he got "Amity'd," a process which meant Amity spat him out like an over chewed dog bone and refused to take him back.

"That doesn't even make sense! I left there a bunch of times! And came back!"

"The city has decided that it was your time to leave, Danny." Clockwork spared a wane smile for the curled up boy-king.

"I have people to protect there! My entire life! My haunt!" Danny yelled, breaths that he didn't technically need coming shorter and shorter. The neon green of the Zone whirled in and out of his vision in a dizzying shudder of anxiety and incoming panic.

"It wasn't your haunt, I'm afraid. The city nurtured you as a young spirit- thus shared her haunt- and has decided that it was time for you to... leave the nest, so to speak."

That stopped Danny's panic in its tracks. "Are you telling me she NightVale-d me? Some kind of involuntary coming-of-age bs?"

If he weren't on the edge of hysterical laughter, Danny would take a moment and proudly say to Mr. Lancer that he had paid attention in class.

"...Yes."

"Fuck." Danny dropped his head down in despair. His head made a loud thunk. The bag of cash he'd accidently made away with sat innocently at his feet. Further proof that it wasn't some nightmare he'd wake up from anytime soon.

---

Danny slumped over the desk, exhausted. Technus had lent him a ghostly hand and hacked into government data bases to re-establish his social security number and all the other dumb bits and bobs that he needed to establish his identity because Amity was an actual ghost town. Ghost to reality, ghost to real life. Ancients, Amity even had their own data network, which he couldn't access outside of Amity itself. This meant that Danny couldn't even call anyone. Ugh.

"I gotta find a place to live," he mumbled to himself. Danny, despite knowing that he needed to do things, did not move for another ten minutes.

Then, as his phone alarm went off, buzzing on the table. Like... Clockwork... Danny sat up straight and wiped all traces of wallowing self pity off his face. The people in the library- students- gave him solemn nods of solidarity. Danny nodded back and left the library.

He wandered around Fawcett City, somewhere Clockwork had recommended he stayed. With Clockwork, recommendations tended to be life-important (plot-important?) orders. Danny liked the place, really. It gave off the weird and settled "what-the-fuck,-Box-Ghost-did-you-have-to-destroy-the-mall?" vibes Amity constantly gave off after the ghosts started coming through. He thought he even saw a talking tiger! Awesome.

"Hey, are you new here?"

Danny looked down. His reflection stared back at him.

Did he have another kid? Did someone clone him again? Ancients curse you, Vlad!

"Uh- yeah."

"Oh. Do you need help getting around? I was born and raised here all my life, so I can totally do that!"

Oh thank the Ancients, this wasn't another Dani. Just a weirdly similar looking kid.

"You know I'm a stranger, right?"

"I don't think anyone helping Nanny Mae pick up her oranges would hurt kids," the kid said archly, but with a grin so like Dani, it made Danny miss his younger sister.

"Okay, you got me there. But still."

The kid sighed. "I know how to be safe, thanks. I'm Billy!"

"Danny. Nice to meet you."

"Okay, Danny, where you off to?"

"I'm actually trying to find a place that'll be cheap to rent." He's sixteen, but Danny could totally pass as eighteen. "I'm thinking about moving to Fawcett. It's nice here, with all the ambient magic and stuff."

This got him a wide-eyed look. "Do you use magic?"

"Something like that."

"Cool."

Danny took in the considering glint in Billy's eyes and decided that it was future!Danny's problem. Present!Danny was currently occupied with trying to stay off the streets. That giant bag of cash he'd accidently absconded with would be helpful and Danny felt kind of bad... but his growling stomach had chased that away quickly.

"This way!"

Danny shrugged his wavering morality off and followed the kid, shouldering his new and stolen duffle bag. If anything happened, he could just go ghost. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened in this city, Danny made sure to check.

"Have you been by the zoo?" Billy began to rattle off his favorite details about the Fawcett city zoo as he wove around the city.

Danny didn't think he'd actually have to go ghost.

"Not yet, actually. Is it true that there's a talking tiger there?"

"Yeah! Tawky Tawny! He's my friend!"

"Awesome."

[thelongestway]

And this is it. :) The Nameless Fanfic (placeholder name stands, for now; I name things either first or last) is done.

That said, I'll probably be keeping The Nameless Fanfic as a series name, because I think I have a Situation for part 2.

Before then, though, I probably want to let this fic lie for a week or two, print it and do a proper line edit to put it on AO3. And also write a thanks-and-some-meta post. And do some proper formatting here. So... I don't know if part 2 is going to be soon (tm), but it might happen.

Meanwhile, I think this story is actually, properly finished. That was a ride, at least for me - I hope you, the readers, also enjoyed.

Without further ado...

Chapter 15: Play

After the checks and permits were resolved, Iceblink met me on top of the Tenacious' walkway, alone. She had gotten herself a pair of feed glasses and rigged a small keyboard bracer to her right arm, which she was typing on animatedly. A moment later, she motioned for me to follow her, then tapped my feed on a text-only channel as we walked.

Hi, SecUnit! Dandelion told me you liked talking in the feed more, so I hope you don't mind if I test my new deck?

Go ahead, I poked at Dandelion herself, but she only returned a curt poke back, and then went quiet again. It was kind of disturbing being inside her hull when she wasn't really there. Is your spaceship sulking?

XD XD XD ^____^ ahahahahaahaha

What the actual fuck was all of that?

Iceblink grinned at me.

Nah, she's not sulking. Never been the type. But she has been making herself scarce for a little bit, at least until the SSC gets back to Captain Reed about her case. BY THE WAY SEC UNIT.

It's SecUnit.

By the way, SecUnit! Dandelion ALSO told me you're some kind of media afficionado. She gave me A LIST.

No. Fuck you. You didn't let me download YOUR media.

:3 we didn't know you then!!! trade you? everything you got for everything we got?

…Fine.

Initiating transfer!

Iceblink started the file exchange, and then stopped walking for a moment, hand hanging over her keyboard. She looked at me. Then at a nearby speaker.

"That is still an incredibly bad idea." Dandelion said out loud.

"I know!" Iceblink groaned. "But it's just so… Frustrating. Are you sure that's not how they do things here?"

"Yes."

"Ugh." She began typing again. It is grinding my gears just to say this out loud, but, uh, SecUnit, do friendly people in feed security never really, you know, do blind penetration testing on each other as a kind of hello? No warning, you just start once someone decides you're good enough friends?

No. Because that would be incredibly stupid. And right now also an asshole move that would make you lose movie night privileges forever.

Pfft, even Dandelion only lost hers until we're getting back to Trellin. It's not healthy to deprive people of socialization.

The answer is still no. Don't fucking do it. How the fuck did that even get started???

We had a friend in the early node ship days, Tal Smithson. Dandelion suddenly inserted herself into our text channel. Ke liked training the new generation of IT specialists that way. Ke would have been very glad to see the tradition going, Iceblink, but… Not right now.

Iceblink sighed.

Yeah, Dandelion. I know. SecUnit, consider this a formal invitation to play if you want to. I won't start.

I said, Ok. I'll think about it, because Iceblink was definitely the sort of human who would keep pinging me until she at least got an acknowledgement. But then we got to the Friend's cabin, and Iceblink left me alone with a little wave.

The Friend was sitting at its desk, drawing up some schemas by hand. It looked up when I entered.

"SecUnit." It said. And it sounded weird. And it stared at me.

I stared past it. "Yes. I've got a package for you. From your clients."

It stood up and continued staring.

"SecUnit." It repeated. "Fuck. That wasn't a codename."

I held out the package. It took the box and put it down on the table, on top of the schemas. It had been conducting a post mortem threat assessment of the entire hostage situation.

We stared some more. Then I turned and walked out.

On my way out, I pinged Dandelion, and this time she opened a proper channel.

That was very weird. Are you sure it doesn't need a cubicle or something?

Yes. That was very strange. I don't know why it reacted to you like that. It had been a lot more animated when it told me that a former Friend should have known better, among many other things, and it seems back to normal now that you're gone.

What did you tell it?

She chuckled, sounding sad.

That a long time ago, a dear friend tried to cheer me up by telling me that I could still be a Friend. I took the vows, after all, I did the work. And I told them I couldn't. Not anymore. And that at a crucial juncture it turned out I'd been right.

Dandelion opened her hatch for me, and I walked out down the ramp, into the embarkation area.

Thank you for getting it out alive, SecUnit.

It didn't look like the Trellians would be hauling too much cargo any time soon, so I scanned the area and found an empty spot by the wall with a good view of the stars. I sat down there, and opened a shared feed workspace, then sent Dandelion an invitation. She accepted with a Query? that felt like a raised eyebrow.

I started the first episode of The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon.

[practically-an-x-man]

May I humbly request for Barry Allen to be kidnapped? And it would be splendid if thou included something meta/power dampening to do it.

You may indeed! Let's see what I can put together here...

____ An Exercise in Desperation

Word Count: 5.5k Content Warnings: heavy whump, blood and gore, tranquilizer darts, kidnapping, medical whump, self-mutilation, uncertain ending

Crossposted on AO3 ____

Barry tapped away on his computer, feeling restless. He'd been at this for hours, but something must have gone goofy with the lab's servers, because he'd had to reset this upload four times already.

He was starving, and his lower back was killing him from being perched on the same shitty office chair for so long, but he refused to take a break before he finished this. There wasn't any real sense in taking a break now, he thought - this was the last thing he had to do for the day, as soon as he finished the upload he could just lock up and go home.

His computer dinged once again. Signal interrupted. Upload failed. Barry wanted to scream. He should've been out of here by six, then off to grab some Chinese takeout, but the sun had set hours ago and his stomach was rumbling and he still hadn't finished the upload.

Talk about a nightmare.

Barry sighed and reset the upload. Again. Finally he hopped out of his seat and stretched, grimacing at the twinge in his lower back. If this one didn't work, he decided, he'd just bite the bullet and deal with it tomorrow instead.

He probably should have done that hours ago, but... nothing to be done about that now.

Something clattered from the far corner of the lab, and Barry's head swiveled towards the noise. It shouldn't have done any more than startle him, but alarm bells spiked in his head. He had the sudden, unshakable impression that someone else was in the lab with him.

"Hello?" he asked, still trying to peer past the blocky shapes of machines and equipment around him. Even with the constant whir of computer fans and the faint buzz of fluorescent lights around him, the air felt uncomfortably still.

Something else shifted, off to his left. There were two of them. At least.

Time to go. Time to grab his suit and call Cisco, call Iris, call someone so they'd know what was going on before he jumped too far into this, time to grab something to eat so he wouldn't pass out in the middle of a fight.

Something pricked his shoulder, not any more painful than a bee sting. Barry glanced over and found a feathery plume stuck into the sleeve of his hoodie.

He shrugged it aside. Plenty of people had tried that before, and failed. Those darts weren't made for metas, especially not with his metabolism. He'd burn it off in a matter of minutes, with nothing worse than a headache or perhaps a little nausea. Nothing he couldn't push through.

He darted for the door, vaulting over the last of the lab tables in his way. It was too cluttered here to speed away, too many papers strewn across the floor that could take his feet right out from under him, but as soon as he made it to the hall-

Cold fingers snared his ankle and his momentum lurched in a strange direction. He hit the tile floor with a vicious impact and immediately twisted to kick at his adversary - now more panic than strategy, all he needed was to get to the door but he couldn't do that if he couldn't get to his feet.

One of his heels made contact, and with a masculine grunt those grasping fingers retreated. Barry wasted no time, squirming up to his feet like an upturned cockroach and lunging for the door ahead of him.

Something heavy clamped down on his ankle, and the whole world slowed down.

His legs gave out almost immediately, his metabolism no longer keeping the drugs at bay. The lab spun around him in a dizzying array of gray and white. Already he could feel himself dragged under, a thick tide of darkness drawing nearer with every heartbeat that rang through his chest.

He wasn't going to make it to the door. Somehow that thought scared him more than anything else. It had become an emblem of safety in his mind, that getting out to the hall meant securing his escape, and now... he'd lost that safety. It took all his strength just to lift his head off the floor.

Barry caught sight of two figures, blurred and shadowed in the haze of the drugs, as they crouched above him.

Hands gripped his shoulders and lifted his limp body off the hard tile underneath him. The motion made his head spin again, and nausea bubbled up from deep within his chest. Barry let out a weak groan, hardly even realizing he'd done it until he recognized his own voice floating in the air above him. Vague silhouettes floated above him like ghouls.

"I told you," he heard one of them say, though his mind wouldn't or couldn't recognize the voice, "Doesn't take much."

Finally his mind gave out, and Barry Allen sank into the unknown.

____ He was not used to feeling weak. Not like this. From the moment he woke up, Barry found himself weighed-down like he hadn't felt in years- not since the day he was struck by lightning, not since the day he became more than human. His thoughts felt slow. His body felt heavy. Thinking was just as hard as moving, and moving felt like dragging a ten-ton sledge behind every limb.

Normally he bounced back pretty quickly, he thought. Injuries never lasted long, and chemicals like this should have burned off within a few minutes of waking up. Even in his addled state, Barry recognized the problem immediately.

A thick shackle around his ankle gripped his flesh tightly, rubbing a raw red band around his skin with every movement. It was heavy steel, with studded points sticking out like the face of a gear, and Barry could see a faint reddish light glowing from somewhere within. Power dampening. Of course.

One of those thick gear-teeth led to an equally heavy chain, each link nearly as wide around as his wrist. He had maybe eight feet of leeway, he thought, though that was an experiment for later- when he was strong enough to get to his feet instead of helplessly slumping against the concrete wall behind him. The end of the chain sank into a hole in the wall, bolted into something deeper where he couldn't reach.

It took a while for him to sort his thoughts enough to even process this. It took him longer to even consider doing anything about it. For a long time, all he could do was lean against the wall and wait for the world to stop spinning. Barry almost couldn't decide which was worse: the physical sensation of it all, the nausea and heaviness and general wrong feeling bolting him to the floor, or just how long it took before it dissipated enough to let him think.

Maybe speeding around had made him impatient. This was torture from the very first minute.

Nobody entered the room, even in all the time he waited. He couldn't even hear footsteps or voices outside the door, though that meant very little. They could have soundproofed the place. Anyone that could afford a power dampener good enough to slow him down could definitely afford to soundproof a couple rooms. The cell seemed big enough to have held a few more prisoners, and he could even see duplicate chains drilled into the opposite walls, but Barry was alone in the room. At least for now. He couldn't tell if that was a blessing or a curse.

He wasn't sure how long he was left there. Gradually the weakness dissipated - he still felt slow and heavy, but part of that was just the unfamiliarity of being without the Speed Force - and Barry tried to investigate his surroundings a little further. He walked in an arc as far as the chain would allow him, though that led him to nothing more than a slightly different set of dusty floor tiles. He dug his fingernails under the edge of the shackle and tried to pry it off his ankle. He grabbed the base of the chain and tried to tug it out of the wall. It didn't budge.

But his choices became trying or waiting, and waiting felt like giving up. Easier to try and fail than to sit down and accept whatever his captors had planned for him.

Time was difficult, and at one point he must have dozed off - when he woke, he felt a little more clearheaded and reasoned that most of the drugs must have worn off. His back and tailbone ached from being propped up against the wall. The raw skin around his ankle had torn in a few places and had begun to weep clear fluid. Hunger clawed at him from within: his last meal had been hours ago, and that was with the Speed Force accelerating things.

It wasn't unbearable, he thought, but it was certainly no picnic. And he knew it would only get worse from here.

"Mister Allen."

The voice, crispy articulated, made his head snap up so quickly he went a little dizzy. Barry shook it off, forcing his brain to process the first real sight he had of his captor.

The woman stood just past the length of the chain - close enough that, in theory, he could reach her if he stretched, but far enough that she had time to just step back if he tried - in a slate-gray pencil skirt and a lab coat. Her shoes were preppy but a little scuffed, with a slight heel. Her hair was a streaky dishwater blonde, perched on her head in a loose bun. She couldn't have been more than five-foot-three, heels or no.

She looked like a substitute science teacher. She didn't look like the type of woman to have him drugged and chained to the floor, but here he was. Barry wondered if he'd seen her anywhere before.

"Where am I?"

He didn't expect a response. Why would his kidnapper give him a response? But, like most things in his life, he figured it couldn't hurt to try. He was already chained and exhausted- how much could one question really make things any worse?

"You're in an underground laboratory beneath New Brighton. If you listen very closely, you might hear the train. It's not far." she said, "I'm sure if you got a decent look around, you could find your way home easily."

Something about her words rattled him. It was almost worse than not being given a response at all. Refusing to tell him where he was meant she wanted to slow down his escape, or keep him from calling in for backup. But she hadn't even hesitated. Hell- she almost seemed to prod him onward, to encourage him.

So either she wanted him to escape... or she was sure he didn't stand a chance.

"Now, Mister Allen, I'm sure you're wondering why you're here." the woman continued. Barry squinted to read the embroidery on the front of her lab coat: Dr. Beatrice Ralston, PhD. He wondered why she'd leave another detail like that out in the open - if it was her real name to begin with.

He was hardly even thinking about what she said until he caught the glint of metal in her hand.

The knife was a huge serrated beast, the sort of blade he'd imagine sawing through deer bones at the end of a hunting trip, and Ralston crouched to set it on the ground at her feet. It glinted wickedly under the harsh overhead lights, spilling fractured rays onto the floor tiles around it. It was so large and cartoonishly vile that it hardly looked real, more like a sprite from an M-rated video game.

"This is what I like to call an exercise in desperation," she said, calmly clasping her hands in front of her body, "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually."

And just like that, she turned and walked towards the door. Barry lunged for the knife as soon as she began to move - desperate times, desperate measures - but she was still well out of reach by the time he reached it. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and drew the blade protectively in towards his body, thoughts still whirling in confusion.

"Hey, wait- what kind of game is this?" Barry blurted, stopping the doctor just before she reached the door.

"Escape or die." Ralston said, chillingly composed, "That's the game."

The door swung closed with a firm, definite click.

In the hours that followed, it did not open again.

Barry was a smart enough man not to try anything rash until he had to. First he just sat there and counted to sixty thirty times in his head, then thirty more. He knew that she - and whatever operation she was running, since she was too small to have nabbed him back at the lab - wanted to see him desperate, clawing at the walls like a lab rat, and he refused to give her that.

He knew he'd been wearing a smartwatch when he was back at the lab, and he had his phone in his hoodie pocket. He didn't have those now, and they'd probably been taken off him before he left the lab, but there was a chance that tech was still floating around here. And if it was, it could be tracked.

And then there was his suit - his ring was gone, but it could be tracked too, and it was a lot less obvious than his phone or smartwatch. As soon as Cisco realized something was wrong, he'd start looking. Barry figured he could keep his composure until then.

The first hour was met with dead silence. Barry readjusted position and began reciting Monty Python and the Holy Grail inside his head. He didn't give his captors the vindication of even doing that out loud. He didn't want them to know he was bored out of his mind, feeling every second trickle by like droplets from a leaky faucet.

He finished Monty Python. It went by awfully quickly when he could only remember half the scenes. Then he started in on Legally Blonde. It reminded him of Iris, in a way, and maybe that would help.

But he remembered even less of that one than he did of Monty Python, and it only took twenty minutes before he ran out of scenes and the hunger pangs started attacking him even more fiercely.

Rush Hour, then. He loved Rush Hour. Cisco loved Rush Hour, too. Barry even caught himself humming Mariah Carey's Fantasy under his breath as he thought about it. Mood sufficiently boosted... at least, as much as it could be boosted in a place like this.

Then he slept again, for a while. There wasn't much else to do. He woke when his throat got so dry he felt like he was choking, and it took ten minutes to convince his body to summon up enough moisture to ease the feeling. Barry was quickly realizing what his biggest problem would turn out to be, depending on how long this capture persisted.

And he had to pee. He'd been ignoring it for a while, but now it had grown past discomfort and into a sharp, piercing pressure in his gut that he wasn't sure how much longer he could ignore. He wondered what the most dignified option would be for... resolving the issue. There wasn't much dignified about any of this, but he wasn't ready to give it all up just yet.

He figured it out. Then he stood up and stretched for a bit, tried to work a little blood back into his lower extremities. Hunger still scraped away at his internal organs, thirst even more so. Already he could feel himself getting weaker. It worried him.

Barry didn't exactly know his limits without the Speed Force anymore. Sure, he knew the logic of it - three days without water, three weeks without food, et cetera - but individually, personally? He'd learned to balance out his accelerated metabolism and healing for so long now that he didn't know what he could really take without it. Did he have a full three days? One day? Hours?

And he thought about the knife. He thought about the cuff clamped around his ankle - not his neck, not his wrist, his leg. He was beginning to realize what she wanted from him. An exercise in desperation, she'd said. How long until his hunger, his thirst, his will to live, won out over his self-preservation?

Which life mattered more? Barry Allen, or the Flash?

If he waited much longer, he wouldn't have the strength to do it even if he wanted to.

Maybe he could still count on Cisco to track him down. Maybe he could still count on help arriving in time.

Or maybe he couldn't. Maybe it all came down to the knife in his hands. Maybe that was by design. Ralston gave him everything he needed to escape on his own, at least in theory. She told him what to do. She told him exactly where he was. Barry doubted that the door to the room was even locked, or that anyone would try to stop him once he got past the chain.

There were only three obstacles in his path: two thin bones and an impenetrable mental wall.

Okay, Barry thought, Here's the plan. Three more hours. If Cisco's not here by then, well... maybe they can reattach it at the hospital. But you've got to get out of here before you're too weak to move, and you know blood loss is gonna make you even weaker, so you've got to time this right or you'll die here either way.

He counted to sixty thirty times, then thirty more. It passed by too quickly. He almost didn't want to start on the second hour. Starting meant finishing, and finishing meant he'd have to pick up the knife, and picking up the knife meant doing something he could never get back.

He'd have given anything for the Speed Force. He'd have given anything for just a little more time. He'd given up on the thought of escaping this inevitability, and now he only wanted to delay it a little longer.

But if he delayed it he died. The thought loomed over his head like a stormcloud, like a guillotine.

Barry started counting again.

Sixty more sixties. A second hour put behind him.

He took a break. He walked as far as the chain would allow him (don't think about your foot don't think about how this might be the last time you feel the sole of it on the floor don't think about how the last time you'll walk steady will be while you're chained up like a dog don't think about it) and back. He took a few deep breaths. He tried to ignore the dryness of his throat and the cramping agony of his stomach.

He sat back down. He tried to stretch each second out as long as he could.

He slowed to a crawl, but he could not stop.

Barry's eyes wouldn't leave the door as he began counting out the seconds for his third and final hour. This time he found himself mouthing the numbers. His throat was too dry to even find his voice, but he needed something physical to tether him. He couldn't press forward if he kept it all in his head.

Just a twitch. Just a jiggle of the knob, or the sound of footsteps further down the hall, or an alarm with flashing lights, and he'd call it all off. Any sign that his friends had tracked him down, any sign that they'd come to rescue him, and he wouldn't have to go through with this.

Thirty repetitions, and the door still didn't budge. Barry's heart was pounding in his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs. He could feel the adrenaline spiking to life within him, exacerbating the dryness of his throat and the trembling in his limbs. He tried to purge it from his mind.

Thirty more repetitions until he got out of here. That was how he had to think about it. Thirty more minutes until he lost the dampener and got his powers back, thirty more minutes until he found his way home, thirty more minutes until he got food and water and safety.

Thirty more minutes until...

No. He couldn't think about it like that. Or he'd never go through with it.

Thirty trickled into twenty, and twenty trickled into ten, and before he knew it Barry had the knife in his hand and was feeling the cool polymer handle warm under his body heat.

Ten became five.

Five became three.

Three became one.

Fifty-eight... fifty-nine... c'mon, Cisco, open the door... sixty.

That was time. Maybe he could last a little longer, he thought. Maybe three hours had been sparing, and he'd be mutilating himself for no reason. Maybe Cisco and Iris were just beyond the door, bursting their way in, and it would just take a few more minutes of waiting.

But if he delayed it once, he'd just keep pushing it back. Maybe three hours was some arbitrary number, maybe he could last five or six or ten or twenty more before he fell too weak to move, but if he let himself back out now he'd never talk himself back into it. He'd keep sitting and counting and waiting around until his tongue shriveled from dehydration and his body collapsed from exhaustion.

He had to do this now or he'd die here.

Barry stripped off his hoodie and cut off one of the sleeves. He tied it tight around his leg, just under the knee, and pulled until his foot prickled with pins and needles. Good. Maybe that would dull the pain. He stuffed the other sleeve in his mouth and bit down hard.

One good, clean cut. The cleaner he made it, the more likely they could reattach it at the hospital. Or if not that, the more likely he could be fit for a decent prosthetic. The more likely he could run again. This deer-butcher blade was far from precise, but he'd have to do his best. He couldn't imagine not running again.

The operation was called hobbling, Paul.

Lawrence! No! Oh my God, what are you doing?!

Okay, Aron, here we go. You're in it now.

Suddenly his penchant for movies didn't seem quite so amusing. He knew how this story ended. It wasn't pretty.

Barry placed the blade against his skin, just above the top of the shackle. He'd use it as a guide, he thought, for a good straight cut, and he wouldn't cut off one millimeter more than he had to. The knife was so sharp that he saw blood begin to bead up from his skin even before he applied any pressure.

He thought about Iris. He thought about Cisco. They'd help him get through this. He'd only see them again if he did this. He could worry about the future later, but first he needed to make sure he had a future to worry about.

Barry Allen took a deep breath and let it out. Sparks flickered behind his eyes.

He pressed the knife into his flesh.

Pain jolted to life almost instantaneously, and his muscles locked into a rictus. He froze with the knife still lodged in his leg. His brain wouldn't let him continue. There was a lock there, Barry thought, the same reason he couldn't convince himself to bite off his own tongue.

I'm doing this, he told his own mind, If I don't, I die. How's that for your self-preservation instinct?

He pushed the knife in further, and something about that mental block disappeared. He was in it now. He'd already started. Bailing on it now would only cause him more problems.

The first few motions felt like cutting through a lean cut of beef, all sinew. He must've caught a tendon somewhere, because one push and he felt something snap up his calf with a fresh bolt of pain. Barry was dimly aware that he was screaming against the cloth in his mouth, but he was only focused on the task ahead of him.

It wasn't his foot. It was a prop, a bunch of ballistics gel and pig parts like one of the experiments on Mythbusters, and the blood came from some hidden internal tubing. It wasn't real. It didn't matter. It was a prop, and the pain was all in his head. It was the only way he could press on.

His vision tunneled, black and fuzzy at the edges. Barry forced himself to take a breath. His hands were shaking, clamped on the handle of the blade like frozen talons.

The blade caught resistance, grinding to a halt as it hit the first of the two bones. Tibia? Fibula? He couldn't remember which was which. His vision grayed out for a moment, and he clawed his way back up to lucidity with a palpable effort. Even with his makeshift tourniquet, blood continued to pulse and spurt from the wound. If he passed out, he might not wake up.

He had to finish. He had to get his powers back. He had to get out of here.

Barry bore down, sawing the serrated edge back and forth, putting all of his weight onto the blade. The resistance gave out all at once, and the knife sank easily into the muscle like he was carving a steak.

Nausea flooded him all at once, and Barry was forced to stop as his body voided his stomach onto the concrete beside him. The room stank of bile and blood. He remembered hearing about that somewhere, that most people vomited after a severe broken bone because of the bone marrow being exposed to the surrounding tissues. He figured nausea was the least of his worries now.

Halfway there. Barry watched the toes of his left foot twitch like the legs of a dying spider and nearly vomited a second time. He shut his eyes and bore down on the knife.

He was through the second bone much faster than the first.

Fibula, his mind told him, that's the thinner one. Tibia, fibula, calcaneus, talus, cuboid, navicular...

Somehow that helped. It brought him back to his college days, all the mnemonic devices and flashcards he'd put together for his anatomy classes. He thought about his professor with a slideshow clicker, scrubbing through images of crime scenes. He'd always found it bizarrely fascinating. He'd never been a particularly squeamish man. He didn't think he'd be able to get through this at all if he were.

Fresh, bloat, active decay, advanced decay, dry remains.

Livor mortis, algor mortis, rigor mortis.

Insects are one of the most important tools in PMI estimation. Blowflies colonize a body within the first hour, sometimes even within the first 5 to 10 minutes.

With a final push and another sinewy snap of a tendon, the last of the resistance gave way. The tip of the knife skittered into the concrete floor, accompanied by a heavier clatter and a sickening fleshy impact.

The Speed Force surged back to him so quickly his vision blacked out, and Barry slumped against the wall behind him. It was a strange sensation, some odd blend of fresh strength and overwhelming weakness, his healing enhanced even as his hunger exponentially multiplied.

He felt the flow of blood swell and then slow, first reacting to his heart speeding up and then dampening as his healing factor raced to seal over the injury. Barry Allen forced himself back into motion. He couldn't stagnate here. This wasn't over yet.

He forced himself to take hold of his severed foot (it's just a prop it's not real it's just silicone and fake blood it's like Mythbusters) and wrestle the cuff off the end of it. The stump looked like bloody hamburger meat. He pressed the raw edges of the wound together, his breathing shallow and his vision gone white with pain, and pleaded for the Speed Force.

Patch it together seal it over I can't lose my foot. It's still a fresh wound just make the connections you know if you get a tooth knocked out sometimes your body will seal it back into place if you're quick I'm quick just please please please seal it over.

He reached for the rest of his ruined hoodie and fumbled for the cloth. The sleeve became a sort of cuff, a desperate way to keep his ankle pressed close to the stump in the vain hope that his healing factor would still stitch them back together. The rest of the fabric he tied tightly around the stump, half tourniquet and half makeshift orthopedic boot, and watched the fabric darken with his blood.

He didn't want to stand up. He didn't want to give the wound the benefit of gravity, and he didn't want to be faced with the fact that his healing factor might not have been enough to mend those ragged seams. He didn't want to admit he'd done what he'd done.

But he was bleeding, and he was weak, and if there was any chance of keeping his foot it would only come if he got to a hospital fast, so Barry leaned against the wall and painfully hitched himself up to standing.

Pain and dizziness bloomed the instant he was on his feet (foot remember you cut the other one off welcome to the Paralympics pal guess what the Flash has one foot), and he nearly fell straight back to the floor. It was several long moments before the sensation passed. Blood pooled underneath him.

He managed a hop. His hoodie-cloth bindings held, albeit with a sickeningly loose sort of lurch. He still wasn't sure if his body had actually reattached anything or not.

Just a little blood flow, he thought, Doctors can take care of the rest but if the tissue dies there's nothing they can do and I don't have ice so i need blood flow.

Another hop, supported by the wall on one side. He wished he had something more solid than cheap cotton to hold things together. His thoughts seemed distant, detached, like he was watching all of this through a TV screen. The pain was the only thing that kept him from dissociating entirely, agony spiking through him like lightning with every motion.

He lost time. He found himself in the cell and then he was in a brightly-lit hallway. Somehow he must've found some tighter bandages, because there were rolls of gauze wrapped straight over his makeshift hoodie-boot. Each hobbling hop-step felt a little steadier than before, though it still felt like he was limping along on a peg-leg. The only sensation in his foot came from the agonizing pressure where the stump pressed into the jagged remains of his ankle. It was too vague an agony to tell where it began, if there was anything else underneath.

He kept moving. It was his only option.

The hallways warped around him. He thought he knew where he was going. Maybe he'd seen a sign some ways back, somewhere in that blank gray expanse behind him, and his subconscious still retained the information.

Or maybe he was wrong, and he was horribly lost, and he'd eventually bleed out without ever seeing the sun.

He preferred the first one.

If you listen very closely, you might hear the train.

There was a rumble up ahead. Soft, but getting louder. The wall vibrated beneath his palm as he leaned on it. Barry sped up as much as he was able.

He saw a door. He heard the babble of conversation and something tinny, automated, chiming out above it. His thoughts were drifting away but his body kept moving, some shambling zombie drawn to the promise of human life.

Barry reached the door and practically fell onto it, all of his weight dropping onto the metal release bar. He spilled out into a mess of bodies and briefcases, jarring his wrists on harsh concrete as he landed.

He couldn't get back up. His strength had fled him. Above him, people were gasping and chattering as they began to notice him. Someone screamed.

A face loomed below him, some trepidatious businessman in a suit swimming in his vision. The man's lips moved, but the sound was buried under the cacophony of the crowd. Barry heard the ocean rushing in his ears. The smell of something sharp and bitter filled his nose.

"Hospital," he croaked, "Please."

And he once again sank into the unknown.

[ninjastormhawkkat]

“I know this is very troubling Gene. I honestly wanted to deck the woman when we first met. Don’t worry. Matthew talked to Margaret and she promised she would run a background check. So she is already on The Agency’s radar even if she hasn’t done anything dangerous yet.” Carl reassures his son. He was already upset with this woman. He didn’t want Gene to be worked up and especially draw up terrible memories of the past. Gene sighed. He was glad something was done but he hated the idea of someone he never met nor heard of before wanting to cause havoc like Matthew did. It honestly kind of scared him especially now he was married to two heroes and had a heroic child of his own. “Okay so If I’m getting this right here, you want my expertise on heroes and villains in order to help you better understand not only how your powers work but also their origins.” Gene stated to his father. Matthew nodded. “Yes. Honestly I don’t want Becky to go through what I had to deal with growing up. Learning as I grew wasn’t a pleasant experience most of the time.” Matthew frowned as he thought back to “incidents” that had happened when his powers first developed as well as those that happened when he was learning how to use them. Drake had covered up the “incidents” Matthew caused but mainly to protect the man’s own secret identity and reputation rather than out of consideration for his scared, confused, and angry nephew. Carl placed a gentle hand on Matthew’s own, as if sensing his past woes. Matthew smiled in appreciation and took Carl’s hand in his own. Gene pinched the bridge of his nose as a pensive and frustrating look formed on his face. “Look dad, I'll try to help you anyway I can, especially for Becky’s sake. But even back then I never could understand your powers. Meta Human genetics wasn’t fully understood back then. This will involve a lot of rough digging.” Matthew nodded. “I understand. Thank you for the help anyway son.” Gene gave his dad a small smile. “No problem. Let’s head inside. I’m sure Becky will be happy to see you two again.” The three men got out of the car and walked in only to be greeted with a surprising sight before them. “Chuck! What are you doing here?” Gene exclaimed in surprise. Before them Tristan was sitting on the couch with Becky watching her favorite show together and Chuck the Evil Sandwich Making Guy was just chilling in an armchair eating a…well a sandwich. His condiment ray was lying next to him. Chuck was surprised and a bit nervous to see Matthew here. Even though he knew the man retired, Matthew still made Chuck and a few villains nervous from time to time, mainly because of his appearance. “Hi Gene. Sorry I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just waiting until you came back to talk to you and Joey said you weren’t at the lair.” Chuck explained to Gene in a sheepish tone. Gene looked confused. “Why did you want to see me?” Gene inquired. Tristan answered for the nervous villain. “He said he wanted your help in fixing his condiment ray. I told him as long as he behaved and didn’t cause trouble he could stay until you got back.” Tristan explained. This made Gene even more surprised as he turned back to face Chuck. “You wanted my help to fix your condiment ray. I’m not exactly a villain anymore Chuck. Besides, what about Hal or did he try to scam you again?” Gene inquired. He wouldn’t blame Chuck if he wanted to come to him over Hal. Gene himself was still a bit miffed at the villain for scamming him that one time along with his daughter even though Hal had no clue Becky was Wordgirl. This time Chuck even seemed a bit confused by Gene’s words. “Haven’t you heard? Hal Hardbargain retired. He decided to move back with his mom to help her own cons since she couldn’t do them on her own anymore. Despite him trying to dupe me out of my money that one time. I kind of find it sweet of Hal helping his mom. It’s sort of…ugh…what’s that word that begins with an e and it means nice?” @dualnaturedscientist

Heart of chaos

A year had passed since the B.E.A.W Labs organization had fallen. Since all the events had taken place. Becky being taken along with Bob. The poor girl being experimented on by a cruel scientist who had no love for anyone but himself. Matthew had broken out of the facility with her, Carl and Steven. Gene's true identity being revealed along with losing his Dr.Two-Brains persona. Shocking revelations unfolded. Betrayals and redemption. Things had calmed down significantly since but that didn't mean life had been dull. It certainly wasn't for Fair City. Especially with the villains, heroes and its eccentric inhabitants livening up the city. Becky had been making a wonderful recovery. Though she still wasn't at her full recovery Becky was still making so much more progress than the year prior. Gene still had identity issues, dealing with the loss of Squeaky. Though he didn't go through it alone. The still mad scientist had his family and friends help him through everything. Matthew and Carl took up residency within the city. A house that wasn't too far from their sons. Life in this place was definitely lively and peaceful in comparison to the hellish place many innocent souls were imprisoned in. Matthew was less exhausted than before. Relaxing within the living room in his son's house, watching whatever was put on the television. Matthew felt his eyes beginning to droop. Sleepiness hitting him out of nowhere. He simply allowed himself to doze off, not fighting it. Knowing that he was safe there. It wasn't until he felt weight on him that Matthew opened his eyes. Usually a dog or cat would be the cause for this but Matthew met many eyes. Fluffy had snuck into the house yet again. A small warm smile spread across his facial features, patting the spider on its head. Fluffy leaned into Matthew's hand, making soft happy noises. It was funnily cute to him. Though he understood as to why Gene was so afraid of him. Even Carl was squeamish around the giant spider. “Aw, who's a good boy? You are! You're a good boy!” Matthew couldn't help but baby talk the arachnid. He looked up, wriggling his chelicerae in response. As to say ‘Me! I'm a good boy!’ He chuckled at that, giving Fluffy gentle scritches. It was like a huge puppy in a spider's body. Though the peacefulness was interrupted by a sudden shout. “NO! WHY IS IT HERE AGAIN?!” Gene was in the doorway of the living room. Looking quite terrified at the huge arachnid. Fluffy instantly moved around on Matthew's lap to look at Gene. Excitedly jumping off of the supervillain's lap in favor of his son. He bolted right for the mad scientist, causing him to yelp loudly and make a run for it. “SOMEONE KEEP THAT ABOMINATION AWAY FROM ME!” Matthew gave a small laugh. “Can't help but feel abit rejected there.” Archie, who was quiet until then, responded. “I know that feeling.” This caused Matthew to jump up startled. “Don't do that! I'm old. Also I could accidentally blast you.” Archie blinked in confusion. “You didn't notice me? I came in with Fluffy. He got loose and snuck into the house. I just came to bring him back before he got to Gene. Too late for that now.” Archie frowned. “I can't help but be jealous at how much Fluffy loves him. Though Gene is terrified of him. That spider just won't listen to me when it comes to his favorite person.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “You want me to help you?” Matthew was being genuine with his question. He didn't want his son dying of fright from the giant arachnid. “That would be greatly appreciated. I have to take him back home. He can't avoid taking his medication this time.” Matthew got up, stretching first before doing anything else. This earned him a strange look from Archie. “What? I said I'm old. If I don't stretch I'll pull a muscle.” The hero shrugged. “Let's go get him soon. I have to look after Charlotte as well.” Archie always had the brightest smile when Charlotte was brought up. Either by him, Sunshine or anyone else. It was sweet. “Alright, alright.” They were completely unaware of an enemy observing them. Waiting.

Miss Power growled in frustration at the display she was witnessing through a window to the Boxleitner or rather the Woods household. A display she thought was very disgusting. How badly the alien conqueror wanted to charge right in their and obliterate everyone in her sights. She couldn't do her usual tactics and tricks right now, not after what she learned after coming back. She was still ticked off after that little alien brat Wordgirl and her parents dupe and tricked her into leaving the planet in defeat. There was no way she could go back to her planet and face her people with such a shameful stain to her otherwise brilliant record. Fueled by revenge and hatred, Miss Power spent her time preparing, training, and waiting so she could exact her revenge against those who wronged her, against the little hybrid girl and her freak of a family that humiliated her. Sadly when Miss Power and her loyal sidekick Colonel Gigglecheeks did decide to return, they were not prepared for the recent changes that had happeend in their absence. Miss Power did not care much for this Darius person or B.E.A.W labs, she had seen those like them a dime a dozen before on other worlds. The alien wished she could have congratulated the person who tortured and dehumanized Wordgirl and her sidekick. If it was up to her, Professor Ross Moran would receive high honors among her people for his actions. She did give her condolences at his unmarked gravestone. While the recent trauma Wordgirl and her sidekick have suffered gave Miss Power an opportunistic advantage, the alien conquerer unfortunately could not risk using it especially with her grandfather around. Miss Power was amazed at hearing about the past and recent exploits of Maddrix the Malicious. She was shocked that someone so bloodthirsty and powerful was the father of that scientist who used to have a mouse brain attached to his skull as well as a weird cheese obsession. To her disappointment, Miss Power could clearly see the man was too human and had regretted his actions in the past. Actions that would have made him highly respected among her people despite him being human. Still Miss Power wasn't going to risk striking back while that old coot was still alive. Age did not always equate to weakness according to what she had been taught. Even though he was old, Maddrix was clearly still powerful. It was likely that her and Gigglecheeks would wind up dead by the man's hands before they could claim revenge and victory. A chittering sound snapped Miss Power out of her musings. She turned her head to see her sidekick give her a concerned look. He chittered again and asked 'So what are we going to do?' Miss Power smiled and scratched her sidekick's head which he enjoyed. "Don't worry Colonel Gigglecheeks. We'll get our revenge soon. We just need to learn more about Mr. Malicious and what weaknesses he might have so we can use it to defeat him." Miss Power cooed. She then took her sidekick and flew off without anyone being the wiser. Miss Power was brash and bold and could be tricked sometimes, but she was no fool. The alien conqueror learned long ago that the best way to win your battles was to be prepared and know your enemy more than they know themselves. Carl sighed with relief and slight exhaustion as he sat down in a comfy chair. He had just finished sweeping the floor of his and Matthew's home. Now all he had to do was sit and relax until his husband got home. Carl wanted to try a nice 'mom and pop' owned restaurant that one of Gene's friends, Chuck, had recommended to the man. Carl had been itching to get out and do something more and more recently. If he had to be honest, he was getting bored. In the past, Carl had his job and work as a scientist to keep him occupied along with spending time with his husband and kids. Unfortunately after his 20 year imprisonment, Carl couldn't step in another official science lab ever again without a severe anxiety and panic attack @dualnaturedscientist

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

For anyone confused, (Y/N) was around 17 when he fought the Avengers and was taken in and now he's 18-19. Lowkey a filler to develop/show (Y/N)'s relationship with Laura and Clint

~

You stared up at the large wooden house, a soft breeze blowing by that made you tugged down the sleeves of the sweater you were wearing. Clint turned off the engine of his motorcycle, looking up at you. You furrowed your brows and turned towards him, glancing at the darkening sky.

"What is this place?" You asked, watching him curiously Clint stood beside him, gazing fondly at the house. He looked at you with a gentle smile.

"My home."

"Home?"

"Yep, home. The only other people who know about this place are Fury and Natasha." Clint revealed, making your brows raise. You looked back at the house. It was homey for sure. Far from the city with nature surrounding it. A perfect place to raise a family and live a quiet life. You bit your bottom lip, gently wrapping your arms around yourself. 

"So, why’d you bring me here?" You asked. If it was such a big secret that not even Tony or Steve knew about it, why would he share it with you? You weren’t even part of the team. You were just a child that they had to take in. Clint placed a gentle hand on your back.

"You need some fresh air and a break from the shit back at the tower. Come meet my wife and kids." Clint said, walking towards the house. You slowly followed, still unsure about the whole thing. You didn’t know why Clint trusted you so much. Not even a couple weeks back, you had attempted killing him and the Avengers. You had heard Tony mention Clint having a habit of taking in strays so you assumed you were just another person Clint wanted to help. The aroma of food filled your senses, making you let out a soft hum. Clint had heard it, chuckling as he stepped into his home. You followed, noticing the pictures on the walls and scattered drawings. 

"Laura, I’m home!" Clint called out into the house, following the light from the kitchen. You noticed some legos laying around, looking up as a woman approached Clint and greeted him with a kiss.

"How was work?" She asked softly, smiling. You could see two kids looking at you curiously from the table. Clint smiled back at his wife, gently stroking her long hair. 

"It was fine, honey. I brought a guest." Clint motioned towards you. Laura looked at you, humming softly. Her smile widened as she faced you.

"You must be (Y/N). Welcome to the Barton Farm." Laura giggled softly, placing a hand on her belly. Your gaze dropped down, noticing her barely visible bump. Laura followed your gaze, chuckling softly.

"We’re- Well, more like Natasha is hoping for a little girl." Laura smiled, glancing at Clint when he placed a gentle hand on her bump. She looked back at (Y/N), motioning to the table. 

"Come join us."

You walked with Laura to the greenhouse, glancing over at Tony and Steve as they talked.

"How was your first mission?" Laura asked, smiling widely as she gazed at you curiously. You were supposed to go on a mission when your training was complete but nevertheless, it had been quite exciting. You smiled, looking forward.

"It was.. Good. It didn't go as planned, obviously, but there wasn't much of a plan to begin with. Clint's definitely holding a grudge against the runner." You chuckled, opening the door to the greenhouse and stepping inside. Some new flowers had been added.

"I don't blame him." Laura said, giggling as she pulled up a chair. She sat down, letting out a sigh of relief. Laura rested her hands on her belly, watching you with a gentle gaze.

"The girl.. The girl made Hulk lose his shit and made the others see stuff." You told her, picking up a pot with a venus flytrap inside. You gently ran your finger over the plant, watching it open.

"Did she get to you?"

"No, I.. I stopped her before she could do anything to me. Natasha seemed pretty shaken up by what she saw." You looked back at her, frowning softly. You had never seen Natasha look so broken inside. Whatever she had seen, it had definitely triggered some bad memories. You wondered what Wanda would've made you see. The orphanage? The fight with the Avengers?

"Clint mentioned you had to work on your people skills." Laura recalled, laughing softly as she tilted her head. "What's that about?"

"I might've choked.. A few people."

"Might've?" Laura repeated, raising her brows. You placed the pot down, letting out a soft sigh as you stared down at the venus flytrap.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" Laura asked softly, noticing the change. You gently pushed the pot back into its spot beside the other plants, shrugging lightly.

"Not that long ago, I was in their spot. Wanda and Pietro.. Two young metas trying to survive. With my powers, I could have seriously injured someone and-"

"But you didn't, did you? We're all standing on this plot of land, living and breathing." Laura stood up from the chair, holding onto it as she regained her balance. She walked towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"You were a frightened kid on survival mode. You were doing whatever you could to protect yourself." Laura said, gaze softening.

"Obviously, I could never hurt Thor or Hulk but... I almost crushed and suffocated everyone else. Tony had to work on his suit, Natasha and Clint had bruises for days.. Steve did that weird staring thing like a fucking camera whenever I was in the room." You reached forward, running a finger over the leaf of a plant and watching it grow.

"Look at yourself." Laura motioned to the plants. "You have full control of your powers. You know your limits. You're.. Mother Nature's son! Like, almost literally her son."

"I'm your son." You muttered, keeping your gaze on the plants. Laura stayed quiet, almost frozen in place. She slowly smiled, nodding as she blinked away tears.

"Yeah.. Yeah, you are. You're my son. You're a Barton." Laura said softly, sniffling softly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm gonna go see if Stark is willing to check out the tractor. Holler if you need anything." Laura said, turning around. She left the greenhouse, walking back towards the house. You thought about her words, knowing what she said was true but things could've gone differently if you had been in full control of your powers during the confrontation with the Avengers. Clint had still offered you support despite it all.

You brought your knees close to your chest, hearing the sounds of the Avengers grunting and talking on the floor below. The overgrown vines in the abandoned building wrapped around the corner you were in, providing cover.

"Hey, kid? You up here?"

"Barton, what the hell are-"

"Shut up, Tony." You furrowed your brows, hearing sluggish footsteps on the floor you were at.

"This isn't the greatest hiding spot, kid." The voice, 'Clint', had gotten closer. He was most likely standing infront of you, the vines being the only thing keeping you from seeing him.

"Look, I know you're scared. I know the orphanage probably wasn't great either, but we can help you. I can help you. You can trust me." Clint assured softly. You swallowed, reaching out and touching the vines. They parted, letting you peer up at Clint. He offered a tired smile, extending his hand to you.

"You just made Laura the happiest woman alive." You turned towards Clint, chuckling softly. Clint pushed himself off the doorway, stepping inside.

"Must be nice to finally feel happy for once." You replied, grinning.

"Oh, trust me, you should've seen her face when I proposed." Clint chuckled, looking over the greenhouse. He hummed.

"Maybe I should get into gardening." He muttered, arms crossing as he looked over the different flowers. You watched him.

"You'll be busy with missions."

"I don't plan on sticking around for long, if I'm honest. I want to retire and be with my kids more. The hero life isn't forever for some people. Keep that in mind, (N/N)."

"You're gonna leave the team?" You asked, frowning. You knew Clint had been thinking about it. Especially with a third kid on the way that would come at any moment.

"I got lucky but.. The thought of leaving Laura alone with three young kids, a barely legal adult, and a big plot of land.." Clint sighed, shaking his head as he gently tapped his finger against the table.

"I don't want to be an absent father and miss out on big achievements. I owe it to Laura and you guys." Clint explained softly. You understood. None of the other Avengers were parents yet. Clint dying meant fatherless kids and a widow. He had a lot more to lose.

"I'll always be here if you need advice or more training. I just won't be on the field with you." Clint placed his hands on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze before he leaned in and gave you a hug. You hugged him back, eyes shutting. You weren't sure how you'd be on the field without Clint there to support you. Being beside him brought you comfort and reassurance.

"You'll be an amazing Avenger, (Y/N). I know it." Clint whispered, leaning back and smiling softly.

"Will you be my number 1 fan?" You asked with a grin.

"I'm afraid the top three spots are already taken but I'll happily be your fourth biggest fan." Clint laughed softly, turning his head when Laura called for him and you.

"Come on, let's see what the boss wants." He said playfully, turning around and walking out. You followed, noticing Nick Fury standing on the porch. He gave you a nod before entering the house.

"What's he doing here?" You asked, looking at Clint. Clint shrugged, letting out a deep sigh as you walked up the steps.

"We're about to find out."

[nevertheless-moving]

thanks again to @dykerory and @willowcrowned for this genius au. this is an incomplete collection of very specific set of headcanons/daydreams i had about a tangential version of your au that made me emotional in the middle of the woods. whenever you feel the time is right, i’m very eager to hear your og version on the ‘but obi-wan, tho!’, because i admittedly pushed this one’s resolution really far chronologically because i wanted batman to be involved.

continuation from here

note: my understanding of dcu is as sporadically informed as my understanding of the gffa. 

newly graduated clark kent gets his first journalism job and starts settling more and more into the superman thing. the rest of the justice league has been around but his entrance onto the scene is the one that really inspires the various heroes to actually start coordinating to deal with the weirdness magnet that is dcu Earth. Clark is in his early 20s. Anakin is in his late 30s.

He’s been living on Earth, without the force, for nearly 2/3rds of his life. He has a close knit circle of friends who were kind to him even when they thought he was just a weird and crazy emo cult victim (the gradual increase of public encounters with aliens and superpowers sparks some awkward apologies, Anakin at 38 just waves his friends off, smiling and changing the subject, neither confirming nor denying his high school ramblings of spaceships and magic. it doesn’t really change anything).

He lives an hour’s drive from smallville, and runs a successful auto shop. people travel from pretty far to check out some of his more wild and specialized motorcycle abominations. makes enough money selling them to rich idiots to fund his free auto-class and auto-repair programs for impoverished communities.

It took a while but he eventually came around to the idea of helping people without physical force (ironically, this is happening around the same time Clark is coming to the realization that he can help people with physical force). Generally respected as a pillar of the community. When people start to realize how profoundly weird he is as a person in a number of inexplicable ways, someone will generally pull them aside and quietly whisper that he was in a cult at a child, no one really knows much about it except that it’s what inspired his anti-modern-slavery work, which is a little telling. Not married. Was in a long-term relationship for like 9 years. It didn’t end well but no-one knows the details.

Has several cats. 

He’s- wistful but settled. He’s been through a lot of therapy. He meditates every morning and night, clearing his mind and examining his emotions in the way Obi-Wan taught him. He thinks Obi-Wan would be proud of him. He know his Mom would be.

Once he gets used to the idea, he never really stops loving the concept of learning just because. Duel bachelors degree in in african american history and american literature, masters in engineering, masters in astrophysics a phd in theoretical physics, another phd in medieval folklore. He’s worked a lot of jobs. 

He was already pretty well versed in astronavigation back at the temple. Over the course of his time on earth, he gets more educated in earth astronomy and physics. With is increased knowledge, his theory for ‘how did i get here’ shifts from slight hyperdrive miscalculation, to big hyperdrive miscalculation, to some sort of hyperlane incident. he realizes that none of the stars he knows are familiar in any NASA database. He must be beyond wildspace, which helps him let go of the last bit of hurt he felt that Obi-Wan never found him.

Then he really learns physics- and- light doesn’t exactly work like that right? He thought it was just primitive Earth understanding but... he gets a phd more or less accidentally, trying and failing to disprove that the speed of life is constant constant.

Get’s another even more accidentally, explaining how alternate universes might form if we assume slightly different universal constants. He publishes his thesis anonymously around the same time metas are becoming a household term, and at least one science journalist speculates on it and how alternate universes might explain the increasing prevalence of wildly different superpowers. He doesn’t claim credit for the honorary diploma awarded to the unknown theorist- he doesn’t want to risk drawing any attention to him and by extension Clark, who’s alien differences are far more of the ‘military experiment interesting’ variety then his.

He stops tinkering with Clark’s ship. He finally gets how it works. Now that he realizes how FTL travel has to work in this universe, tinkering with the mechanical generation and harnessing of the massive quantities of energy necessary to do is startlingly familiar. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how far and fast he travels, he’s never going to be able to get back to the life he used to know. 

Perhaps this is what being the chosen one actually means- he’s meant to live a life without the force, so that when he returns to it in death he’ll be able to somehow...educate? the force? maybe?

Ok, he’s not great at the metaphysical spiritual side of things, but he does accept that going back is out of his control, and he’s doing good here, even if it’s not galaxy altering.

Despite all the therapy, he never doubts that his early life was real. He has his saber and deep, deep down he can feel a spark in the kyber. He can’t do anything with it, but it’s there. There’s also pieces of the utter wreck that was his ship in the cellar, next to the sleek unblemished pod that Clark arrived in. Shortly before Clark becomes Superman, he asks for his help in melting down his old ship to make unearthly alloys. 

He’s not surprised when Clark tells him he met a ‘real’ ‘magic’ user- it stands to reason that considering how relatively easy it is to convert energy from one form to another in this universe (Clark can fly), at least one kind would bend to sentient willpower in a similar way as the force does.

It’s still a little nervewracking showing his lightsaber to someone new for the first time in a decade. Zantana scrutinizes, bewildered. 

“There is some sort of power locked within, but it’s unfamiliar to me,” she admits finally. “I could probably brute force it and force the energy to release itself, but it would likely destroy the container.” Anakin politely refuses. 

Later, after the justice league’s formation, Clark mentions to J’onn that he has a friend who might be able to work on his ship. J’onn is extremely doubtful when he’s brought to a bizarre autoshop in the midwest that looks half-like a roadside attraction. Anakin sighs and digs his hands into the guts of the craft, muttering incomprehensibly and yelling at clark to melt down some pieces from the special scrap pile. A few days later he explains the patches he’s done to an impressed J’onn. When he asks how a human came to learn such things, he’s absently informed that,

“I used to work in a junkshop in Tatooine. All sorts of ship parts came through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with this world.”

“Tell you what, if you ever meet anyone who’s heard it of it, send them my way, and I’ll make your next repair free.”

“Oh! I’m afraid I don’t have any earth money...”

“Ugh, of course you don’t. it’s cool, capitalism sucks anyway and everyone’s entitled to free transportation, regardless of the area they happen to live. I do ask that if you can’t pay for the repairs that you spend an equivalent number of hours either attending one of my free auto classes, or volunteer at a community-led charities of your choice, here I’ll get you a pamphlet-”

So the Martian Manhunter becomes a weekly volunteer at a Midwestern Food Waste Reclamation Facility. J’onn J’onzz ends up becoming Anakin Skywalker’s friend well before he becomes comes truly comfortable around Kal-El. For a telepath, 39 year old Anakin’s Jedi orderly mind is a soothing relief.

(again, Anakin has spent far more time meditating on Earth then he ever did at the temple. Before all this, spent five years dutifully memorizing the Jedi way even as he struggled to live up it’s basic practices. For the first few years on earth, religiously practicing every meditation technique Obi-Wan ever taught him, thinking obsessively about the philosophies he never had time to really process, is just a desperate attempt to reconnect with the force, prove himself worthy of it. But even after he gives up on ever touching the force again, he keeps up the practice, he can’t release his emotions exactly, but he does find peace. The tendency to stop mid-rant to earnestly pronounce made up zen bullshit and then sit quietly for an hour before picking up on his tirade again as though there was no interruption is one of the things many things people find profoundly weird about him)

Kal-El doesn’t stop asking new aliens and dimensional travelers if they’ve ever heard of Coruscant, or Hutts, or the Jedi Order. Anakin might have given up, but Superman remembers his older brother scrubbing away his own tears to focus on helping Clark calm down enough to touch the floor again. The more the Kryptonian’s powers developed in alarming ways, the more Anakin set aside talk of missing his home galaxy. Anakin might have claimed it wasn’t like that, but Clark was determined to take every chance his increasingly weird life threw at him, no matter how vanishingly small.

In the middle of his first battle with Braniac, Clark starts insulting his incomplete database. The world collector pauses, demanding a more precise explanation. Clark complies, giving his best technical description of Coruscant’s cityscape, Tatooine’s binary star system, and so on. Braniac is so distracted that Superman recovers completely from his kryptonite poisoning and easily saves the day.

Neither the lantern corp or the denizens of the neutral zone have the answers. Superman doesn’t mention it it Anakin, but he never stops looking and listening.

“How did you even meet that guy?” Flash asks curiously after stopping to say hello on one of their after work laps of the country. 

“Aliens among us support group,” Kal-El responds deadpan. 

“Oh. Wait, what? He’s an alien? I thought he was from the future or something! You’re messing with me. No way that’s a thing. How many people are in the support group? This is a joke, right?”

“Sorry, most of them aren’t out and I don’t want to violate their privacy- a lot of them have high profile jobs. How do you think I met J’onn?”

“SUPES I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW YOU’VE GOTTA STOP”

Anakin is just sort of vaguely known by a solid chunk of the super community as ‘that one midwestern zen space mechanic’ and no one really questions it because everyone’s life has just gotten so goddamn weird. A few of them know he used to be a space wizard of some kind. Space wizards now being a regular hazard of life on earth, no one has reason to doubt this, and it’s as good an explanation as any for Anakin’s general vibe.

well. almost no one doubts this. Batman does not simply accept Anakin’s general bullshittery without carefully investigating and drawing his own conclusions. He does not share these with anyone.

But one day Clark- this is well after Superman became Kal-El to him, and not long after Kal-El tells him to call him Clark- comes up to him and asks for his help finding about an alternate universe. Knowing and dreading where this is going, Batman stalls,

“Shouldn’t you be asking one of the league members who regularly travels between universes?”

“I have, over the years,” Clark admits, awkwardly scuffing a boot on the floor of the cave. “But no one’s familiar with the exact one I’m looking for, and I thought since you’re a detective, and also one of the smartest people I know, you might be able to help me...”

“You’re an investigator yourself, and you can survive the vacuum of space,” Bruce shoots back flatly. “I’ve told you before Gotham is my priority, and this has ‘personal project’ all over it.”

“Come on, B, please,” Superman pleads, trailing Batman around the cave like an overgrown puppy. “In a few months it will have been 30 years! He’s my brother! Just let me see the research you’ve already done!”

“Who says I’ve already done research on your brother?”

Clark shoots him a look. And Bruce concedes the point with a grunt.

“I’ll need need to talk with him first,” Bruce finally concedes. “Bring him by the cave. Take the-”

“Take the tunnel entrance, I know, I know,” Clark agrees with a grin. “This doesn’t mean he’s authorized to know your secret identity. Thanks Bruce, this means a lot. I’ll ask him tomorrow about his schedule.”

Superman flies off and Batman scrubs his face with a gloved hand. After a moment he pulls up Anakin’s file on the main monitor. Bruce honestly respects and likes the man, as much as he respects and likes anyone who’s not family. He admires his sense his style, appreciates his upgrades to the batmobile, and is impressed by both this civil rights work and his additions to the scientific community.

That doesn’t mean he’s not convinced that Anakin’s brother is a bit insane. Again, he’s not judging! He dresses like a bat to scare random henchmen and beat up actual demigods! He wishes his rogues gallery was as capable of directing their ptsd-inspired delusions and staggering intellects towards such productive pursuits!

Bruce was already in quiet awe of the Kent’s ability to raise an outrageously superpowered being without blowing up a chunk of the country; their success in derailing a supervillian origin story just puts him over the edge. He stares at the three most likely profiles he’s pulled together. Christen Jones, from a negligent family, death certificate filled out suspicously sloppily at age 3. Earl Lucas, went missing at age 9, both parents dead in a violent assault. And Jake Hayden, who at age 5 disappeared along with the rest of his family in a seismic accident later linked to Luthercorp.

Anyone of them could have suffered on the streets for years and coped by establishing an elaborate fantasy world, aided by self medication, only to eventually be picked up by the Kent’s and start healing. Certainly Anakin had the intellect to create worlds in his mind. All his rogues were smart enough to create their own little realities in their heads- it doesn’t mean they were actually reachable. 

Unfortunately Anakin had a Kryptonian younger brother who was determined to actually find the space wizard knight homeworld, even as the 'Jedi’ in question had slowly moved away his reliance on the delusion as an adult. Batman really didn’t see any way bringing up his conclusions to Anakin or Clark could possibly be helpful, and so many alien allies had a ‘If you find about the Jedi please contact Kal-El of Krypton on Earth’ pamphlet that it would be excruciatingly awkward to try and discretely correct anyone.

Bruce was not looking forward to this conversation.

[snowdice]

742 (Chapter 4: Hill to Die On)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil/Patton (romantic, but could be read as platonic)

Characters:

Main: Virgil, Patton

Appear: Janus, Logan, Roman

Mentioned: Remus

Summary:

Virgil Sanders died alone on a hill at the edge of town by his own hand near the end of his senior year of high school. Patton had never known him; he was also the last person to see him alive.

Despite having barely ever talked to Virgil, Patton never could get over the boy’s death and he could never get rid of the sketchbook Virgil had pressed into his hands before running off that day. It didn’t matter that the number of drawings of Patton himself was… a bit creepy given the context that they hadn’t really known each other. The sketchbook was always somehow a comfort to him.

When Patton is mortally injured, he finds himself reaching for that comfort and suddenly ends up in his old high school with a dead boy standing front of him. Now, it’s a race against the clock to survive a danger Patton had no memories of being in last time with a boy who knew more about him than he really should. If they’re fast enough, maybe this time, no one has to die.

Notes: temporary major character death, suicide (temporary and self-sacrificial, not because of mental health reasons), a bit of gross out stuff (a character walked through what is in essence digestive fluid of a giant slug monster)  

This is the chapter by chapter repost of my story for the @ts-storytime Big Bang 2022 event. You can see the whole story here.

A special thanks to @kiapet2 for being my beta reader and to @easy-meta-knight for the artwork. It was fun working with you!

Check out the awesome artwork for this fic here!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The party of four loaded into Logan’s car to drive towards the hill at the edge of town. Patton let Roman sit in the front seat, wanting to sit in the back with Virgil. Virgil looked nervous, though really, Patton had never known him to not look nervous. There was a soft itch in the back of his head that said he’d known this for much longer than Patton could actively remember. Patton slid his hand over and let Virgil hold it during the ride.

Roman spent the first half of the ride fiddling with his phone. “Okay, so,” Roman said after a bit. “I’m still not sure if I believe the whole giant magic slug thing, but I tried to call Remus and both of my parents, and they won’t pick up. Remus hasn’t answered any of my texts all day, but I didn’t think anything of it. Though now that I think about it, he’s chronically on his phone.”

“People don’t question the phone lines being down unless they already know something’s wrong,” Virgil explained, squeezing Patton’s hand. “It’s part of the slug’s magic. It doesn’t want its prey to realize anything is wrong, so it projects a light mental field. It’s also why you can’t see it.”

“Or maybe Remus is just being flaky.”

Virgil shrugged. “I’ve honestly never met him. I wouldn’t know. All I know is what you’ve told me about him. It doesn’t sound like he wouldn’t text you back for a whole day.”

Roman went back to fiddling with his phone, a bit more nervously this time.

“He’s starting to believe me.” Virgil leaned over and spoke softly so only Patton could hear him. “If he’s starting to question the phone lines, he’s starting to think the story’s plausible.” Virgil sighed. “But, he’s so much more stubborn when I’m a jerk to him in history.”

“He can hold a grudge,” Patton said, amused.

Virgil half smiled, but then the smile dropped a moment later. “I don’t like you risking yourself,” he said softly.

“Well,” Patton said, “I don’t like you risking yourself.”

Virgil frowned. “It’s different.”

“How’s it different?” Patton asked.

“I’m already dead,” Virgil replied. He looked down at his and Patton’s entwined hands instead of looking Patton in the eye. “For you, I’ve been dead for years.”

“You’re not dead though,” Patton argued. He squeezed the hand in his. It was a little chilly, and Patton wasn’t sure if Virgil was naturally cold or if the origin of the chill was the same as the origin for his pale face and tired eyes. Yet the hand was still very obviously attached to a living boy. “You don’t feel dead. You never felt dead even when I didn’t know you.”

Virgil didn’t have a retort, and they spent the rest of the ride to the hill in silence, though they never let go of each other’s hands.

They had to park at the base of the hill and make the trek up by foot. Virgil carried the sketchbook in his arms. Patton couldn’t help but think about how Virgil had once walked up this hill without anyone else by his side. He knew the Virgil beside him hadn’t taken that walk, but a very similar version of him had. Patton wondered what he was thinking when he climbed over the fallen branches on the footpath. He’d probably been scared, Patton thought. Scared and alone.

There was nothing clearly wrong with the landscape to Patton’s eyes when they crested the hill. Yet still something seemed… off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something wasn’t right.

“So, where’s this giant slug monster?” Roman asked.

Wordlessly, Virgil bent down and picked up a small stone. He threw it a few feet in front of himself. Yet instead of falling in a typical arch and bouncing down the hill, it stopped suddenly in midair. Then, it started to slowly slide down.

As Patton watched, the stone seemed to pull away whatever illusion there was around them. As it slipped down an inch, it revealed a slimy, greenish-yellow, pulsing wall behind it. Gravity fought against a sticky web-like substance keeping the rock attached to the wall. It slowly continued its descent towards the ground, revealing more and more of the wall as it did. When it hit the ground, the reveal didn’t stop. Now that Patton could see the wall, more and more of it came into focus with every blink.

It wasn’t a wall. This was the stomach of the slug, and it stretched far left and right and curled over their heads.

“That’s the slug,” Virgil explained, though he really didn’t need to. “Or at least its mouth/stomach thing.”

“Stomach,” Logan said. “It’s an everted stomach. Very few animals have them. Even less use them to eat and not to expel inedible food. It’s similar to how a starfish eats clam shells. It will pull open the shells until there’s a slight crack, before forcing its stomach into the shell. Then, it will partially digest its prey alive before sucking it and the stomach back inside its body.

“Ew!” Roman said. He’d already been looking a bit squeamish at the slug being revealed, but now he looked on the verge of throwing up.

“In this case,” Logan continued. “We are the clams.”

“Thanks,” Roman said. “I’ll be sure to have nightmares about that for the rest of time if I survive to dream again.”

“I’m guessing the webby stuff is the stomach acid?” Patton asked. His nose scrunched up. The longer he was able to perceive the slug stomach, the more and more a putrid smell started wafting from it.

“Yeah, it burns like hell,” Virgil confirmed. “I only tried to touch it a few times.”

Patton nodded determinedly. “Hand me the sketchbook,” he said to Virgil.

Virgil clutched the sketchbook closer to him. “I’m not kidding,” he said. “Touching it really hurts, and you most likely won’t get a reset.”

“I’ll just go pick up the rock and see if that works,” Patton promised. “It’s probably already somewhat dry by now, so I’ll just get a taste first.” Patton internally winced at his own phrasing. He did not want a taste of the green goop coming from the slug’s stomach wall.

“What if it still burns you? What if the stuff on the rock is too dry and then you’re overconfident and get burned when you touch the actual stomach? What if it works for a small amount of the acid, but then when you’re halfway through it starts eating through the protection spell and you die anyway? I’m not powerful. I’m not even technically a mage. What if my magic fails you?”

“You are plenty powerful,” Patton said. “Your magic hasn’t failed me before, has it?”

Virgil stared at him for a long moment.

“Come on,” Patton said. “One step at a time. Let me pick up the rock.”

Virgil looked away, but he did hand over the sketchbook.

“Thanks,” Patton said, grabbing it.

He took a breath and turned towards the wall. If he’d thought the smell was getting bad a few feet away, it was nothing compared to how horrible it started to smell as he approached. He swallowed back bile and was careful to maintain his balance as he crouched down near the edge so as to not accidentally fall against the stomach wall. He carefully reached out with the arm not holding the sketchbook and picked up the rock that Virgil had thrown. It was still covered in slime and felt… very unpleasant against his skin. He felt a slight tingle and the sketchbook warmed under his touch, but it didn’t hurt at all. He held up the rock for the others to see.

Virgil was frowning despite Patton’s skin not burning, probably because it wasn’t burning. He knew that meant Patton was going to try more. In fact, Patton turned to the slug’s stomach wall and cautiously put his hand against it. He was able to push his fist slowly through the slimy wall like it was a particularly stiff, very, very gross wall of Jell-O.

“Patton!” Virgil scolded.

“I’m fine,” Patton said, drawing his hand back. The stomach wall closed in around the hole he’d made almost instantly, with a wet squelch. Patton’s hand was now covered in the slimy stomach acid and smelled distinctly of vomit. “Ew,” he said, holding the hand as far away from his face, and in particular his nose, that he could.

Virgil came towards him, and Patton put his slime-covered hand behind his back, remembering it was supposed to burn anyone who didn’t have magical protection. Virgil grabbed Patton by the arm clutching the sketchbook and dragged him back away from the wall towards the others.

“It’s fine,” Patton promised. “It doesn’t hurt at all. I think this will work. I think I can get out.”

Virgil looked very distressed by this. “I still don’t think… this isn’t a good idea.” His eyes traveled to the already almost closed hole in the stomach wall. Then, he looked back at Patton. “You shouldn’t… You don’t have to do this.”

“I do,” Patton replied simply. “I really think I do.”

“He will be fine,” Logan assured.

“You don’t know that,” Virgil snapped, turning to Logan.

“Perhaps not 100%,” Logan conceded. “I know very little about magic, but logic says if the spell on the sketchbook is holding for now, that it should continue to hold long enough for Patton to get outside. The stellmax’s stomach, while difficult to get through because of its acid, is not particularly thick. Honestly, putting his fist through like that likely went about a quarter of the way. It will hold, Virgil.”

“And it’s a better chance than the alternative,” Patton said. “You have to let me go.”

Virgil said nothing.

Logan leaned forward past Virgil, who was still clinging to Patton’s arm, and in an unusual show of physical affection, kissed Patton on the forehead. 

“You’ll be fine,” Patton’s brother declared.

“I will be,” Patton said, nodding decisively.

“Don’t forget to take off your glasses,” he said, “and here.” Logan offered him a handkerchief. “Put it in your pocket for once you’re through.”

“Thanks,” Patton said, taking the piece of cloth and stuffing it completely in his pants pocket. He more carefully put his glasses in his shirt pocket. “I wouldn’t have thought about that.”

Roman went in for a hug then, and Patton screeched, turning away and curling to keep away the side of his body covered in acid. “Side hug Roman! Side hug!”

“Oh… right,” Roman said. Patton slowly uncurled and Virgil released his not goopy arm to let Roman awkwardly side-hug him.

Then Patton turned back to Virgil. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. He leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“You…” Virgil said and then trailed off. “You really have to come back,” Virgil said. “Tomorrow isn’t worth it without you.”

“I know the feeling,” said Patton with a ghost of a smile and an ache in his chest he couldn’t quite pin down, and then he turned away, back towards the wall. He took a step away from the group, towards where he’d been standing before.

He took a deep breath and grimaced at the putrid smell but held it anyway. He clutched the sketchbook in one arm and put the other up in front of him to try to somewhat clear a path as he walked, not that it did any good; the gooey substance swallowed his arm as he pushed up against it. With one last internal “ew,” he closed his eyes and forced himself to step inside the wall.

The worst part was it was warm. It felt like he’d stepped into a vat of warm nacho cheese, but this was something that he definitely did not want to open his mouth and taste. When he took a second step forward, the substance around him seemed to solidify even more, turning from feeling like walking through Jell-O to walking through warm peanut butter. Crunchy, warm, peanut butter.

He was almost afraid he’d get stuck as the substance became more solid and sticky, squeezing in on him from all sides. However, just when he thought he’d either have to turn back or risk getting actually stuck, he felt the sketchbook start to radiate warmth up his arm. The substance gave way abruptly and Patton fell straight on his face, rolling slightly downhill before he managed to stop himself.

Not willing to risk opening his eyes or mouth yet, he blindly reached for the handkerchief Logan had given him. He wiped off his mouth the best he could, which was honestly far from as much as he would have liked, before he was forced to take a breath. He gagged, wiping at his mouth more and doing his best not to breathe through his nose.

He eventually gave up wiping around his mouth and started scrubbing at the goop around his eyes. It was hardening, unfortunately. When he thought he’d done the best he was going to, he peeled his eyes open. He grabbed his glasses from his pocket and stuck them on his face.

He glanced at the wall he’d just walked through. He could not see the other side, but he could see a black Patton-shaped mark that looked like a burn. The wall was slowly trying to fix it, but it seemed to be struggling with that more than it had when Patton had just pushed his arm through. Patton patted the sketchbook in thanks, still not letting go of it. He didn’t doubt that if he let go of it the acid would still try to eat him alive, even outside the slug’s stomach.

The sketchbook, for its part, also had some goop on it, but the slime had rolled up into little balls like water droplets might gather on car windshields during the rain. He was able to flick them mostly off and turn to the page that had Janus’s business card embedded into it.

He awkwardly tried to wipe off his free hand with the already dirty handkerchief, the other hand still clutching the sketchbook, but eventually just decided to grab his phone out of his back pocket and hope the protection of the sketchbook extended to a device in Patton’s hand.

The screen lit up like normal when Patton tapped at it, so it at least hadn’t instantly broken. He unlocked the phone, silently thankful that he never did get around to changing the lock code he used even when he changed phones.

Now that the phone was no longer in his back pocket, he carefully settled on the ground with the sketchbook in his lap. He dialed the number on the business card and put the phone on speaker so he wouldn’t get it messier putting it up to his ear. He settled it on top of the sketchbook.

“Hello. What?” The voice that came over the phone was snappy, but also familiar. Patton had never been so relieved to hear the man’s voice.

“Is this Janus Lial?” Patton asked, just to make sure.

A pause. “Yes. Who is this?”

“My name’s Patton,” Patton said. “I’m from Kairos Hill.”

There was a sharp intake of breath which prompted Patton to take a much more relieved breath. If the town name got that reaction, that was a good sign. 

“How are you calling me?” Janus demanded.

“I got out,” Patton said. “I used a sketchbook. Virgil, my friend, made a protection charm thing out of it, and I was able to walk out of town.”

“Okay,” Janus said, voice just a touch frantic. “Alright. Where are you right now?”

“I’m at the top of the hill on the west side of town, right outside the, uh, slug stomach if you’re able to see that.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Janus said. Then Patton heard him saying something muffled to someone else. “We’re just a couple of miles from there on the main highway. We’ll be there in a minute. Okay, Patton, was it?”

“Yeah,” Patton confirmed. “You have until 10:37pm.”

Other sounds could be heard in the background now, voices and the sounds of vehicles. “Can you tell me what’s going on in town?” Janus asked.

“Virgil made a time loop,” Patton said. “The town’s been looping over and over again. I managed to get ahold of your business card in the future. That’s uh, even more complicated than the time loop, but I got your business card. We thought I could probably get through the walls of the slug thing’s stomach if I was holding the protection charm Virgil accidently made me, and we were right.”

“A time loop, huh?” Janus asked. “That’s a lot of magic. Very impressive.”

“Yeah,” Patton said softly, “but he’s getting really tired.”

“I’d imagine he would be,” Janus said. “It’s okay though. We’ll get it sorted.”

Patton nodded even though no one was there to see it. “What are you?” Patton asked.

“We’re called the MIU. It’s our job to deal with things like this. We’ve been trying to get through to Kairos Hill since this morning, but the outside shell of stellmax’s are hard to crack. We tried to find the mouth but couldn’t. That’s usually the only chance you have to get in or out. I assume that’s where you are.”

“Probably,” Patton said. “I don’t really know too much about it.”

“We did check there,” Janus said. “I’m surprised we somehow missed it. It seems like a slightly different species than what we’re used to. It’s still something we’ll be able to deal with if we can get inside though, I’m sure.”

Patton could already hear a few vehicles approaching, though it was a bit difficult to see when he was sitting, and there were a few trees about.

“We’re almost there,” said Janus.

“Okay,” Patton replied. He forced himself to his feet and looked in the direction of the noise. He waved with the hand clutching his phone when he saw a line of black cars.

Despite the hill not having a road or good terrain for a car, the vehicles seemed to have no trouble pulling up to the top of the hill. Janus was the first person to get out of one of the cars. He beelined straight to Patton. However, he hesitated, not getting too close.

“I assume since you’re covered in digestive fluid and holding a sketchbook and cellphone that you would be Patton,” Janus said.

Patton nodded.

“Someone get him something to clean off with,” Janus barked to the other people getting out of the cars.

They spent about 10 minutes cleaning Patton off, first with a hose thing that made the goop ball up like it had on the sketchbook. They also made him drink some horrible tasting milky liquid just in case he’d accidently swallowed any of the acid. (Patton was thankful for it no matter how bad it tasted; at least he knew it wasn’t slug digestive goo.)

He was able to put the sketchbook down after that and they let him into the back of one of the trucks to take a real shower. He was given a clean hoodie and some sweatpants that were too large afterwards.

When Patton stepped back out of the truck, Janus was staring at the still slowly healing Patton-shaped burn mark on the wall.

“That’s where I got out,” Patton said. He’d grabbed the sketchbook after his shower and was holding it against his chest again.

Janus nodded and turned to him, looking Patton up and down. “You are absolutely covered in magic,” he commented.

“Well, I did just walk through a magic slug,” Patton pointed out.

Janus shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’ve definitely been around a mage for quite some time.”

“Virgil said he’s not technically a mage yet,” Patton said.

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I think he qualifies if he managed to pull off what you said he did.” His eyes darted to the sketchbook then. “That must be a very powerful protection charm.” He tilted his head. “A praetectio if I’m not mistaken.”

“It is,” Patton confirmed.

“Those are very powerful things. It burned away the stellmax’s shell,” Janus said. “To be fair, it’s weaker near the mouth than other areas, but it’s still impressive. Would you mind trying to use it to get back through? With the appropriate equipment this time, of course. It will cut down on the time it takes to get us in.”

“Sure,” Patton said, even though walking through the horrible sludge again didn’t sound especially fun after having just gotten clean.

Luckily, it turned out that the equipment Janus had mentioned meant that Patton wouldn’t have to get all gross again. A little box was clipped to his shirt by a woman at Janus’s bequest. When the box’s button was pressed, a suit came out to encase Patton. It looked kind of like an astronaut suit but was a bit slimmer and missing an oxygen tank on the back. It also somehow adjusted to account for the sketchbook clutched to Patton’s chest, covering the book as well as Patton’s hand.

He was told that if he tapped the button three times, the suit would fold back up into the box automatically in a manner that would keep the liquid on it from getting on anything, which was a vast improvement over Patton’s clothes from before.

“You’ll go first,” Janus told him, also outfitted with one of the packs along with a case Patton didn’t know the use for. “That protection charm will only really work if you’re holding it. You burn a path and I’ll follow.”

“I can do that,” Patton agreed with a nod.

“Then, let’s go,” Janus said.

Patton still closed his eyes when approaching the slug’s stomach wall. He pushed against the still struggling to close hole burnt into the side, and it gave under pressure. The same warmth from the sketchbook from earlier started up, and the stomach wall gave even more. He could feel Janus’s covered hand grip onto his arm as he followed Patton into the hole he was making.

Walking through seemed quicker this time. Patton couldn’t tell if that was because he wasn’t agonizing over the goop pressing against him, or if it was because he’d already forced a hole here once. The further they went the easier it began to be to move through the wall, going back to that Jell-O consistency from the inside.

Patton stumbled out onto the other side of the wall after a few slow steps, Janus coming quickly behind him. He opened his eyes, but the entire front visor of his suit was covered in the goop. Blindly, he felt for the button that would make the suit retreat and pressed it three times. There was a startling snap and whirring sound as the entire suit folded up back into the pack, leaving Patton completely clean.

“Patton!” Virgil exclaimed. He was already right in front of him. Logan and Roman were hanging back a bit still. “Are you alright?”

Patton shot him a grin. “Still a bit nauseous from…” he waved his hand at the wall and continued to try to forget the bit that definitely went in his mouth, “but I’m good and I brought back up.”

Virgil turned to face Janus who had also deactivated his suit. “Janus, I’m guessing?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, and I’d presume you are Virgil,” Janus said.

Virgil nodded.

“I hear you made a stable time loop to save this town,” Janus said with a head tilt, his eyes scrutinizing the boy in front of him. “I’m impressed.”

“Uh, thanks,” Virgil said. “It was more instinct than anything.”

“Well,” Janus replied, “that’s what magic is a lot of the time.” Janus took a step forward to clasp him on the shoulder. Virgil wavered under it, and Patton didn’t think it was because Janus was particularly strong. Janus seemed to come to the same conclusion. “I’ve got it from here though,” he said. “You can sit down and rest.”

“How?” Virgil asked, shrugging off the suggestion to rest.

“It’s actually relatively easy to get rid of a stellmax,” Janus said, though then he paused. “At least, it is from the inside with the correct equipment and knowledge. Basically, I just need to inject it with a toxin to make it release the town and then my team on the outside will work on containment.”

“Oh,” Virgil said.

“I’ll tell you more about it once the threat is gone,” Janus promised, “if for now you sit.”

“Come on, sweetie,” Patton said, tugging on his sleeve. Virgil let Patton guide him to a small patch of grass. Patton pulled him down onto it while Roman and Logan stepped over to stand over them and watch what Janus was doing.

Janus opened the case he’d brought and pulled out 6 metal triangles about the size of Patton’s hand. He set them all up near the slug’s stomach wall and then backed up towards their little group. A few seconds later, all 6 of the objects shot up like fireworks and exploded near the part of the stomach that curved over them.

There was a weird shrieking noise on the wind, and then the walls of the slug were suddenly gone, revealing the same group of cars Patton had seen on the other side and the sunset in the distance.

Virgil slumped against Patton as soon as the slug disappeared. “Is it really gone?” he asked.

“It is,” Janus confirmed.

“It’s over,” Patton said.

“Cool,” Virgil said, and then passed out cold on top of Patton.

Want to read more? Click below!

Epilogue

My Masterpost.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 07 part two

(Masterpost)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Lantern Lighting

Now we have the famous lantern scene, where everybody gets to express their character and have dates, ranging from disastrous to delightful, with the objects of their affection. 

Wei Wuxian continues to be ridiculously good at drawing. 

We’ve all seen Lan Wangji’s lovely first smile in the show a million times, so...let’s look at it again!

This scene is important not just because of the smile, but because there’s a distinct shift in the way they talk about their growing relationship. In the pond, it was “come visit me” and “never!” “I want to be your friend” “No need.” Basically Lan Wangji firmly saying no to Wei Wuxian’s offers of friendship.

This time, Wei Wuxian says “let’s do this together” and Lan Wangji says “I’m used to being alone,” which is not actually a No, just an explanation. And WWX says, you can change that. And then Lan Wangji DOES change it, sharing the lantern and the promise with Wei Wuxian.

Whoever painted this flower is even better than Wei Wuxian at plein air painting. 

(more after the cut!)

Everybody’s wishes

Nie Huasang makes a practical wish. Wen Qing prays for her brother and Jiang Cheng notices how she’s like Yanli. Jiang Cheng isn’t very intense about Wen Qing, which could be a sign of his shyness but could also be a sign of his gayness or aceness. After all, later in life he’s an apparently wealthy clan leader who is hot as fuck, and needs an heir, since his nephew is a Jin. But he’s still not married, 16 years after breaking up with and uh, helping to kill and cremate, the girl he liked in summer school.

The Promise We Made Together

Wei Wuxian makes an ultra-idealistic wish/promise while Lan Wangji watches and falls the rest of the way in love with him, and silently makes the same pledge inside his head. Later they will each refer to this as a promise they made together, which is a really super high level of face-reading by Wei Wuxian, to understand that he really is speaking for both of them here.  While making this promise, Lan Wangji brings out his Yin Iron Magic Bag and waves it around in front of everyone, but nobody notices. 

Let’s take a moment to consider *why* this moment is so powerful for Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji is a boy whose emotions are always on the boil. He’s 100% upset all the time, at this age, and he keeps it clamped down all the time. His cultivation level is probably as high as it is partly because of all the work he does in emotion regulation. (note: if you haven’t read all the meta at @howpeacefulislwj​ , go read it; it’s awesome and hilarious)

Wei Wuxian doesn’t GAF about emotion regulation; he just expresses what he feels, all the damn time. 

He is openly bored, lusty, playful, hungry, whiny. He straight up tells Lan Wangji “you’re boring and you have a stick up your ass” as part of saying he wants to be friends; no deference and also no falseness.  

And he can see right through Lan Wangji’s reserve, barging into his loneliness and isolation without any regard for all of his wards. Wards are made to be broken.

(Unrelated note: Young Lan Wangji's rare moments of contentment seem to come from looking at something beautiful--the moon, falling petals, these lanterns, his mirror.)

But Wei Wuxian is also good. Lan Wangji desperately wants to be good. And here’s Wei Wuxian embodying this awful, amazing, tempting alternative path, in which all the interesting things in life get explored thoroughly, all the sweetness and beauty gets consumed unreservedly, all the pain and ugliness gets confronted and endured without hesitation. 

In this moment, Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji “you can change,” and then offers up this prayer/promise that is just pure chivarly, speaking straight to Lan Wangji’s heart. Very simply, I want to spend my life doing right. Not 3500 rules; just one.

This infuriating boy, who breaks rules and who flirts indiscriminately and who pushes and pushes and pushes, reveals himself in this moment to be a hero at the beginning of his journey, and Lan Wangji sees it, and his heart goes right over the cliff.

The Girls’ Room

The girl cultivators all rush over to Yanli to get in her business about her betrothal, inspiring Jin Zixuan to act like a jerk to her and get even further onto Wei Wuxian’s bad side. 

Talk Shit, Get Hit

Yanli’s wish was that Wei Wuxian would grow up and be good. He promptly launches his own personal Sunshot campaign, punching her fiancee so hard that the sun falls out of the sky and the previously well-lit scene transitions to full night.

So, in English, “don’t mention it again” is really mild, akin to “I don’t want to talk about it.” Wei Wuxian’s reaction makes it seem like Jin Zixuan said something really shitty, like “don’t you dare mention that woman to me!” So I’m assuming something is being lost in translation. 

Lan Wangji tries to calm him down. He grabs Wei Wuxian’s sexy arm muscle and basically holds it until the Jiangs exit the scene. 

Nie Huaisang has placed himself between the opposing factions, which is unusually direct of him. In the future he’ll stick to being an unindicted co-conspirator when Wei Wuxian starts trouble. 

Ants in my Pants

Lan Wangji thinks kneeling can make Wei Wuxian cry, which is adorable of him. 

He really relishes this opportunity to be a pedantic tool to his new boyfriend that annoying boy he hardly ever touches, and it really doesn’t work out for him, poor lamb.

Jiang Fengmian stops by to show exactly how deep his affection for Wei Wuxian runs, and to give him whiplash from constantly changing parental expectations. In a couple of hours he’ll be laughing over WWX & JC’s hijinks.

Wei Wuxian takes this opportunity to fantasize about bad things happening to the other boy in the fight, which is in no way foreshadowing of anything.

Douche Dads Conference

We now convene this meeting of the douchebag council. Jiang Cheng is also invited even though he’s a prick, not a douche. <--important distinction

This is our first time meeting Clan Leader Jin Guangshan. He's actually the most sensible and best parent in this scene, but his smug self-satisfaction hints at his true nature. This actor, Shen Xiaohai, has been active in cdramas for a long while now. I wonder what he looked like 15 years ago?

...Holy mother of god.

Jiang Fengmian is the worst dad and the worst husband here. His clan believes in letting children do what they want - uhh YOUR child wants to marry Jin Zixuan. “I wrote a letter to her mother, who arranged this marriage.” Uhhh she arranged for her sickly, low-cultivation-level, sweet and vulnerable child to marry the heir of a rich and powerful clan, with a powerful mother-in-law who’s looking forward to loving and protecting her. Basically she’s guaranteed her daughter’s safety and comfort, and even potential happiness, since her husband may learn to appreciate her (and in fact, does, thanks to soup and repeated beatings from WWX).

Mom worked hard and probably spent a fair amount of social capital to achieve this. And you’re going to toss that aside because the boy thinks he’s too good for her? What the everloving fuck, how are you a clan leader in the first place? 

You can see that Jiang Cheng understands all of this and what a terrible choice his father is making here. 

So do the other adults in the room.

Jin Guangshen: our wives are going to kill us

Lan Qiren: I'm looking at a couple of dead men

Jiang Fengmian pointedly won’t listen to Jiang Cheng or let him speak, showing that all his talk about being free is actually bullshit, that only applies to other people’s children.

Jiang Chang vaults off of the deck to tell Wei Wuxian about it. Hottt

Sorry Sis

Wei Wuxian goes to Jiang Yanli to sorta-apologize and sorta ask to be let off the hook for fucking up her engagement, which he absolutely did. He knows it, which is presumably why he bows to her in paperman form while hiding outside.

At no time has Jiang Yanli indicated to anyone that she doesn’t want to marry Jin Zixuan, as far as I can see, or said she wanted to be defended from insults with punching. Look how good SHE is at defending a person from insults, for comparison.

Yin Iron Blah Blah Blah

The senior Lans meet with Jiang Fengmian  to talk about the Yawn Yin Iron. Yawn. 

Jiang Fengmian addresses Lan Xichen as Lan Gongzi, which is adorable, since he is a big boy to everyone else. His family calls him Xichen and other people call him Zewu-Jun.

Farewell and Fuck You

The three Jiang kids come to say goodbye.

Lan Quiren says goodbye with a heap of criticism for Wei Wuxian and the horse he rode in on, and Jiang Fengmian basically says, yep, that’s what he’s like, all right.  

Good thing Wei Ying gets so much verbal abuse at home he doesn’t take it very hard when he finds it in the field. 

Wangji doesn’t say goodbye properly, which will be a recurring theme for the two of them.

I don’t know if this is because he has a problem with goodbyes, or is just being a jerk, or because he’s so bad at lying he doesn’t dare talk to Wei Wuxian lest he reveal his travel plans. 

Indulgent Dad Continues to be the Worst

Jiang Cheng complains at Wei Wuxian for wanting to say goodbye to Lan Wangji, and WWX says he likes him because he is equal to WWX in fighting, whereas JC sucks. JC hits him tries to hit him--gosh, he DOES suck, comparatively. 

Yanli, who has been keeping these boys in line all summer, sighs deeply at her Dad’s tolerance for their hijinks. OP has five brothers and this sibling-hijinks behavior is 100% accurate, except for the part where it is happening at someone else’s house in front of the hosts. 

WWX pretending to be Lan Qiren where Lan Wangji can see him doing it, in front of Lan Qiren’s colleague and supposed friend, and just earning a laugh from the patriarch? Good lord.  Dad Jiang tolerating this is shocking, particularly in the in-show culture where corporal punishment is as common as tea. 

We’ve tried Nothing, and we’re all out of ideas!

Uggghh why are you like this?

Here in the real world, OP uses “positive discipline” with her child, and encourages other parents to consider it, particularly if your child is neuroatypical or asynchronous.  That said, JF should be punishing the crap out of both boys for this behavior every time it happens, or should quit being a clan leader.  He’s relying on Jiang Yanli to keep them in line while he gets to just be amused by them. And he’s letting Lan Qiren discipline Wei Wuxian instead of doing it himself. He suuuuuuucks. 

Lan Wangji watches all of this. Lan Xichen reminds Lan Wangji that without Wei Wuxian, he’s completely fucking miserable. Lan Wangji still doesn’t plan to bring him along on his trip, though.

Time to return to our lives of crushing loneliness

Rabbits

At this same moment when Lan Wangji is staring down the barrel of future loneliness, Wei Wuxian is already deciding to leave the (forbidden) rabbits in Cloud Recesses “In case Lan Zhan gets lonely.”  This small decision by Wei Wuxian - breaking the rules of Cloud Recesses for the millionth time - is kinder than he knows. Because what is the job of these rabbits? Let’s have a desaturated flashback. 

Lan Zhan spent 3 years in the ice cave. The rabbits kept Lan Yi company in the ice cave. So...did the rabbits sneak in to keep Lan Wangji company in the ice cave as well? I’m going to say yes. By ep 43 they are following him to the gate of Cloud Recesses so they are very attached to him.  Well done, Wei Ying.

Where my bitches at? Seriously, our warren needs bitches

(Is Watership Down still a thing people read? If not, just go ahead and assume all of OP’s rabbit jokes are about Watership Down because OP ain’t going to stop making them)

While Wei Wuxian annoys the bunny he has a flashback to the scene that happened 4 minutes earlier. The Untamed editors assume the viewership has the attention span of a goldfish, and I personally appreciate that they understand me so well.

Wei Wuxian figures out that Lan Wangji is going on the road alone, and tells the bunny immediately. The bunny is very concerned.

Writing Prompt: What do next-generation cultivators Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi wish for at lantern-lighting time?

[ducky-moo]

I’ve Got You

A/N This totally sucks ass so I’m probably gonna re-write it at some point but its literally 7 in the morning and I’ve been writing this since like 4 am so ??? I’m done w it for now lol

       “Barry!!” You yelled as the speedster was knocked to the ground. The two of you had been fighting a shapeshifting meta-human, and it was honestly kicking the crap out of the both of you. Warm light filled the room as you blasted the meta with starlight, leaving the tips of your fingers tingling.

       You couldn’t figure out for the life of you what you and Barry were doing wrong. This meta was always a step ahead, but why? As you continued to blast it, it fought its way towards you, throwing objects at you as it went. Once it was close enough, it used its telekinesis to throw you back against a wall. Your head cracked against it, and you could feel warm blood dripping down your head. A groan passed your lips as you tried to focus on the meta in front of you. 

       “You...Psychoshine...” The meta’s voice came out in a low growl. You heard static in your ears.

       “Y/n!! Y/n! Stay with us!” Cisco sounded panicked as he shouted at you through your comms, and you winced.

       “You will always lose, Psychoshine.” You tried to fight your way out of the meta’s powers, but his hold on you was too strong as he approached. You let out a yell of pain as he tightened the grip on you. “You always lose, don’t you? You could never win...no matter how hard you tried.” Slowly, he started shifting before your eyes, into someone familiar.

       “You could never win their love...even though you did everything in your power to try...you were never enough...never good enough...” He had shifted into your parents, and you felt a pit rising from your stomach, until it became a knot in your throat. You struggled again, only to be greeted with a hand to your neck.

       “Y/n!! Y/N!! Barry, get up!! Come on Barry, he’s going to kill her!”

       “Failure after failure after failure...you couldn’t take it, could you? You almost lost to yourself that night...Oh the tragic irony...” 

       “H-how-” you choked out. Suddenly, he was in your head. In every memory, standing in the corner, watching. He was there. It all made sense now, why you couldn’t beat him. He, like you and Cisco, had mental powers. He knew both yours and Barry’s weaknesses before you even had the chance to land a hit.

       “Barry!”

       “Running is a coward’s choice...” Suddenly, you felt a jolt of electricity, and the meta was on the ground twenty feet away. You fell to the floor, gasping for breath as you watched Barry continue to fight the meta. 

       “Y/n! Are you okay?”

       Shame, guilt, and panic filled your chest instead of the air you were trying so desperately to draw in. You could hear Cisco panicking on the other end of the comms, but you just couldn’t face him right now. 

       “Y/n?!”

       You reached up to your ears and disconnected the comm, and then your tracker along with it. As soon as you could get to your feet, you were out of the building, running somewhere far from there. Anywhere but there.

       “Y/n?!” Cisco’s voice was panicked as he tried to talk to you through the comms. You had just taken a dire hit, and from what he could tell, the meta attacking you was playing mind games. He couldn’t believe he didn’t figure it out sooner. He was pissed that he had to find out at your expense, that the reason they could never catch this meta was because he was inside their heads. Inside your head. All at once, the line went dead and your tracker disconnected. Cisco’s eyes widened in fear. He no longer had eyes on you, he couldn’t contact you. He was completely in the dark.

       “Caitlin! Caitlin she’s gone! She disconnected everything, I don’t know where she went!”

 “We have to find her, she got hit hard. She could have a concussion, or worse,” Caitlin replied as she ran over to Cisco’s computer. “Cisco, you have to find her.”

       “Ok, ok, um her- her boots! I put a-a tracker in them when we were testing them in case she got stuck somewhere.” Cisco was typing furiously on his computer, trying to pull up the tracking on your boots. As soon as he had it, he sent the information to his phone. “Let’s go!” He was grabbing his jacket and already halfway out the door before Caitlin had time to respond.

       You were in some back alley somewhere. You didn’t know where- you lost track of where you were going about ten blocks ago. Now, you were schlumped up against the brick wall of the building behind you. You were covered in blood, and drifting in and out of focus. What’s worse was that the meta had reopened old wounds as well. Ones you had long since thought had scarred over and healed. All it took was one look at the faces of your parents to cause them to reopen and pour out blood again. All the years of feeling inadequate and unloved came flooding back into the forefront of your mind. And that same was leaking in too. “Running is a coward’s choice” It was bouncing off the walls of your brain. He was right. You could never win, so when you failed, you ran. You were always running from something. Here, you thought you were safe. With your new friends on this new Earth. You thought you could have a fresh start. But you were wrong. 

       You were fighting to stay awake when you heard the screeching of car tires. Doors slamming and running footsteps soon followed. Soon enough, Cisco was crouched in front of you, clearly panicked as he and Caitlin assessed the state you were in.

       “Y/n, thank God. We found you.” He reached out and wiped sticky blood off of your face, his dark eyes filled with both relief and worry. All at once, everything, all your emotions, came pouring out of you, and you began to sob.

       “C-Cisco. I’m sorry. I-I ran. I ran.”  You squeezed your eyes tight so that you wouldn’t see the disappointment on his face. Of course, instead of disappointment, the man’s face was filled with worry.

       “You did. But we found you...we found you.”

       An hour later, you were sat on the exam table in Caitlin’s office in S.T.A.R. Labs. Caitlin had to staple your scalp back together from where it cracked against the wall, and you had been under her careful watch since she had deemed you concussed. Barry had returned a little while ago, and informed the lab that the meta had gotten away, and was still coming after you. You didn’t understand what he wanted from you, but now that it was in your head, you didn’t think you could face him at all. Knowing what he knew...

       “How are you feeling?” Caitlin asked as she walked back in. You looked up at her from where you had been staring at the floor, your eyes wide with panic and fear. “No, don’t worry right now. You guys gave him a run for his money today, he’ll need time to heal before he comes after you again. You’re safe for now.” Her voice was reassuring, but didn’t do to settle your nerves.

       “He’s in my head, Caitlin. He was in my head. In all of my memories.” Tears pricked at your eyes again, painfully this time. You had only stopped crying twenty minutes ago, and you were trying your best not to start again. Caitlin looked unsettled by this news. You had told them that the meta was playing mind games, but you didn’t really say much more than that. “I can’t- I can’t go home knowing he’s still out there, please, I don’t want to be alone.” And you were crying again.

       “I don’t feel comfortable with you being alone either, Y/n.”

       “You can come home with me.” Cisco had appeared in the doorway, looking still rather concerned. You looked at your best friend through tear-filled eyes, so you could really only see the vague shape of him. “I can take care of her. For as long as she needs.” He strode across the room and squeezed your knee. “As long as you need.” He said to you, his voice a little quieter as he wiped fresh tears from your face. “Is that good with you Dr. Snow?” He asked with a grin as he turned to Caitlin. She nodded.

       “That sounds perfect, Cisco.”

       “Hey, how we doin’ in here?” Barry was now in the doorway, looking at you with concern.

       “Well, we’ve definitely been better,” Cisco remarked as he went back to his desk. You looked at Barry and couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming shame again. More tears.

       “Barry, I’m so-”

       “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. Everyone’s okay, and that’s what matters.” You nodded, and he smiled at you. “Just worry about getting better, okay? You don’t have my super speed to fix you up fast.” You giggled, and he nodded at you before walking back out to talk to Wells and Joe.

       “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry you?” Cisco asked you as you got down off the exam table. You were about to go home, but you were insistent on walking to the car yourself.

       “I’m fine, Cisco.” You wobbled a little before righting yourself. He gave you a doubting look, then looked over at Caitlin, asking her with his eyes what he should do.

       “You really should let him help you.” She countered as you began walking towards the door. You let out a groan and looked back at Cisco.

       “Fine. You can assist me. Don’t pick me up.” You weren’t very big, but you were self-conscious about your weight. Who isn’t? Cisco grinned and nodded, then came and wrapped his arm around your waist.

       “Do you want to get some stuff from home? I don’t know how long you plan on staying, so I don’t know if you want to pick up some clothes or whatnot,” he asked as you got to his car.

       “Tomorrow, maybe. I don’t think I can tonight.” You winced as another wave of pain rocked through your head.

       “Yeah, okay, sure. You can just borrow some of my clothes to sleep in.” He helped you into the car and then went and climbed in. You let out a heavy sigh as he started driving, and closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat. Bad idea. You groaned in pain and picked your head up again. “Hey,” Cisco’s hand reached out and rested on your knee, “you good?” Concern was evident in his voice, causing you to smile the tiniest bit. Your stomach had jumped from his touch on your knee, and you glanced over at him.

       “I’m okay.” You reassured him.  He nodded, but his hand stayed on your knee. You glanced at it, then turned to look out the window, smiling to yourself. It stayed there the whole rest of the drive, occasionally drifting absently up towards your thigh and then back down again.        "Let me help you out." He had parked and turned off the car, and was now rushing over to your door. You laughed a little as he opened it and held out his hand to help you out. "What?" He asked, amused, as you stepped out of the car.        "Nothing, don't worry about it."        "Well now I'm gonna worry about it." You laughed again, then promptly winced as another wave of pain hit. This one sent your vision spinning, and all you could see was stars in your eyes.        "Woah." You grabbed onto Cisco's arm as you wobbled dangerously, trying desperately to blink the stars away.        "Hey, you're okay. I've got you." His arm wrapped around your waist and steadied you. He watched you, concerned, until your vision came back. "All good?" He asked as you let out a sigh.        "Yeah, all good."        "Okay." He led you into his apartment, and set his stuff down on the table. "Let me run you a bath." You gripped his arm.        "No, don't-"        "Let me rephrase. I'm going to run you a bath." He brought you into his room, and you sat down on his unmade bed, sighing as he disappeared into the bathroom. It was a few minutes before he came back out, towel in hand. "Here," he handed it to you, then placed his hands on your shoulders, sliding them gently down your arms. "Come on," he said quietly, helping you up. "You all good in here by yourself?"        "God, Cisco, I'm concussed, not paralyzed. I'll be fine."        "If you say so." You rolled your eyes and shut the bathroom door. You winced with almost every movement as you undressed, then sank slowly into the warm water of the bathtub, and sighed as you closed your eyes. You could feel the water leeching away the pain from the day as you sat there and soaked. After a while, you washed your hair, getting any of the leftover blood and dirt out of it, and got out. As you were drying off, you realized you hadn't grabbed any clothes to change into. Sighing, you wrapped yourself in the towel, and opened the bathroom door.        "Cis?"        "Yea- whoa." Cisco responded, looking towards you and then immediately looking away. You rolled your eyes, though even that made you wince. "What's up?"        "You forgot to give me clothes," you replied as you walked over to his closet.        "My bad." You pulled out an extra big graphic tee and slipped it on over your towel-clad body, then let your towel fall. You held the towel in your hands.        "You're good to look now, dummy," you chuckled. Cisco looked back over at you, and you saw something in his face shift. "What?" He didn't say anything, but you felt your heart start racing as he got up and crossed the room to you. "Cisco..."        "You know," his placed his hands on your waist and your heart skipped a beat, "you're really beautiful." He whispered, letting his hands slide down to rest on your hips. Your face flushed bright red, and you hid it in the towel.        "Stop." Your voice was muffled.        "Come here." You could hear the smile in his voice as he walked over to his bed and sat down. You walked over and stood between his legs, your face still partly hidden by the towel. "Put that down." He took the towel from your hands and tossed it onto the bed, then let his hands rest on the backs of your thighs. "How are you feeling?" he asked as he looked up at you. You folded your arms across your chest, feeling so many emotions at once. You knew he was genuinely concerned but...was Cisco flirting with you? You had kept yourself so locked away that you didn't even realize it was a possibility that he could like you. The years of trauma and neglect made it difficult for you to believe anyone could like you...no matter how much you liked them.        Trauma. The events of the day flashed through your mind, and you closed your eyes. The feelings from earlier began to rise again, and you started to feel panicky. You brought your hands to your face and pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, then let out a yelp of pain as the headache began to pound again.        "Hey, hey, it's okay. What's wrong?" Cisco asked, his voice thick with worry. "Is it your head?" You nodded, and he stood up. "Sit down, I'll get you some medicine." Without arguing, you crawled into his bed and sat down, pulling a blanket around yourself. After a few minutes, he came back with tylenol and a steaming cup of tea. "Here, this should help. I'm gonna shower really fast. Like, really really fast, and I'll be right back." He handed you the tylenol and tea, then grabbed a towel and disappeared into the bathroom. 5 minutes later, he emerged, his hair dripping wet and his towel wrapped around his waist. You blinked slowly at him, then blushed and turned away as he walked over to his closet. "Caught you lookin, huh?" He teased as he pulled on a t-shirt and boxers.        "No," you muttered. He laughed and came and climbed into bed with you. He shifted himself so that he was situated behind you, then pulled you back into his chest. "Comfortable?" You chuckled. A chill went down your spine as you felt him push your hair over your shoulder.        "I should be the one asking you that, shouldn't I?" You didn't realize how tense you were until you felt his warm hands start kneading your shoulders. You let out a heavy sigh as he massaged your neck and shoulders, sipping occasionally from your tea. "Hey...about earlier, with the meta...what was that about?" You tensed up again, and his hands paused briefly. "He really got to you, didn't he?" He asked. There was a moment of silence before you felt Cisco's lips on your shoulder. Your heart started to beat faster again, and you closed your eyes.        "He just...he got in my head. He was in my memories. He- he knew everything about me...about my past, my family. I let him get in my head and he used it all against me." Thinking about it all, your body began to curl in on itself, as if to shield you from any further harm.        "Y/n, hey, stop." Cisco pulled you out of the fetal position and wrapped his arms around you. "I don't know everything about what's going on, but I can tell you one thing. You're not a loser. I'm a loser. You're like, the farthest thing from a loser. You're a literal superhero." You chuckled a little. "And you know what else? ...You don't have to fight for my love." Tears started to fill your eyes, and you looked down towards the bed.        "Cis-" You groaned as your head pounded.        "I've got you." He moved from behind you, and rested his hand behind your head as he lowered you down onto the pillow. You looked up into his eyes as he hovered over you. "Do you need anything?" He used his free hand to push your damp hair out of your face.        "Yeah..." You reached up and grabbed the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss. He immediately sunk into it, resting his hand on your cheek as he kissed you slowly. It was a solid minute before the two of you pulled away, lightly gasping for breath. A wide, goofy smile grew on Cisco's face as he looked down at you. "What?" You giggled.        "I could kiss you like that all night...if you wanted."        "Maybe not all night, but...I do want."        "As you wish, madam." A chuckle escaped his lips before he leaned down and kissed you with a soft, yet intense longing. As you reached up and tangled your other hand in his hair, he pulled back and placed a soft kiss on the corner of your jaw. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you."        "You are taking care of me," you pouted in protest of him stopping.        "Not like this...How's your head, baby?" Your heart fluttered at the nickname, and you smiled.        "Better...I think." You winced as another wave of pain washed over you. The boy sighed and planted a kiss on your forehead before rolling over.        "I'll get the light," he said as he rose from the bed and crossed the room to the light switch. Darkness flooded the room, and briefly, you panicked.        "Cisco?"        "I'm right here, Y/n. Are you...afraid of the dark?" He asked as he climbed back in bed, his voice sounding amused.        "Pfft. No. I'm afraid of the things in the dark." You admitted sheepishly. He let out a hearty laugh and wrapped his arms around you.        "Don't worry, I'll protect you," he mumbled into your hair. You smiled and cuddled up to him, nestling your face in the crook of his neck. "I've got you."

[anjuschiffer]

Beloved

So I wrote this because writer’s block is a b* and needed something to bring back the writing muses... enjoy!

Based on this post I saw a while back by @miraculous786​

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak​ @damianette-is-life

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AO3

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He was only here to investigate the strange reports about heroes being in Paris, and yet, here he was, sitting next to his new found love. 

He guessed Paris lived up to its name and reputation. It really was the city of love.

Just in a matter of weeks -two to be exact-, Damian had found himself love struck by the Parisan sitting next to him. 

Marcel Dupain-Cheng - the son of a pair of bakers here in Paris, as well as an aspiring fashion designer. 

At first, the two kept bickering and debating on whether the heroes of Paris were even capable of defeating Hawkmoth on their own, Damian clearly set on that they needed help.

“Mariquita and Chat Noir don’t need help from outsiders that can potentially become a greater threat than Hawkmoth himself,” Marcel defended, referring to the possible catastrophe that would occur if anyone of the JL got akumatized. “And if Mari ever needed help, he can simply recruit new heroes if needed.”

“Oh? So you’re saying that you don’t need experienced non-meta human help and rather rely on non-experienced civilians to help balance your odds against Hawkmoth?”

“That’s exactly what I’m- who told you?” Marcel asked Damian with a glare, Damian trying his best to not feel challenged by the rather tall male, a good foot difference if you asked him.

Marcel wasn’t exactly the best at hiding his identity as Mariquita, despite their different behaviors. While Mariquita was confident, cautious and stern, Marcel wasn’t. He was meek, almost shy, panicky and yet kind and filled to the brim with tenderness. He was strong, brave as well as strategic, the same qualities Mariquita has.  

But that wasn’t what confirmed Damian’s theory that Marcel was Mariquita. It was the mere fact that Marcel was the only person in Paris who was the exact height of Mariquita: 188 cm.

That’s right. His height gave away his own identity. To add on, Marcel was also the only teen in Paris with the same build as Mariquita, having broad shoulders like that of a fully grown adult despite only being 16 years old. 

At first, Damian didn’t know how that was possible until he met Tom. 

It explained a lot. 

After the unexpected reveal, the two talked about their night jobs, oftentimes glad to have someone to vent to about having to carry a big responsibility despite only being a teen. Or at least a heavy responsibility for Marcel. 

“Earth to Damian.” Marcel sang, waving his pencil in front of him, prompting Damian to blink. “Are you with me?”

“Sorry, I was too busy watching you sketch that I didn’t notice I was left in a trance.” Damian said with a smirk, watching as Marcel burst into red, sputters escaping him. 

Despite looking intimidating when alone, Marcel was the biggest softie and a flustered mess when complimented, something Damian always loved about Marcel. 

“An-Anyways!” Marcel fumbled over his words, showing Damian his latest sketch. “I feel like something is missing, but not sure what exactly.” Marcel pointed over at the hem of the dress, his finger trailing over the plain hem. 

“Maybe some lace,” Damian suggested, drawing a simple lace pattern next to the dress. “Or some roses, seeing as you made your model have one in her hair.” Damian proceeded to make a faux skirt on the other side and drew some roses at the hem, Marcel taking a few moments to appreciate Damian’s delicate work. 

“Dami! You’re a genius!” Marcel squealed, pecking a kiss onto his cheek, giggling when he watched Damian look away, pink tinting his cheeks. 

But despite the blush across his face, Damian turned back to watch Marcel add his suggestion to the design, watching as Marcel stuck out his tongue a bit as he leaned more into his book. 

Damian let out a soft sigh, watching as Marcel wrinkled his nose before a smile took over his face. 

Marcel… his beloved...

“Habibi.” Damian softly said, watching as Marcel looked at him with those mesmerizing bluebell eyes.

“Habibi?” He repeated back, Damian realizing what he had said, feeling the tips of his ears burn.

“It-It’s nothing.”

“Come on Damian! Say it again!” Marcel requested, pouting as he waited for Damian to repeat it, his sketchbook now forgotten.

“I’m not going to.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Come on! One more time! I didn’t catch it the first time!”

“No!” 

The bickering went on for minutes, Damian blushing once Marcel locked him into a hug, his back against his chest. 

“Please Dami? Just one more time and I’ll never bother you again.” 

After a long second, Damian said it again. 

“Habibi.” Damian sunk into the hug, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “It means beloved.” 

At that, Marcel smiled, squeezing Damian even more. 

“I love you too, mon bonheur.” Marcel said, leaning forward to kiss Damian on the cheek. 

It was times like these that encouraged Marcel to defeat Hawkmoth because once he did, he’d get to spend all his time with Damian. 

His beloved…

His habibi.

[weirwoodking]

hi i was wondering if you would be interested in making a meta on the differences between show!sansa and book!sansa bc i know they changed a lot of her storyline but i don't understand why everyone hates on sophie turner? it can be short or inexistent meta if you're not up to it but i would be very interested to know what you have to say

I mean, the differences between the two are pretty simple. After season 4, D&D decided to cut Sansa’s book storyline, and replaced it with their own rewrite. This affected the plots of multiple characters, particularly Show!Theon’s and Show!Jon’s, but most of all, Show!Sansa’s, obviously. George himself has spoken on how much he hated what the show did with Sansa. He said in 2014 that he had “no idea what they were doing with Sansa or where they’re taking her storyline.”

I could go episode by episode and point out everything that’s wrong or is out of character, but it’s kind of useless. The show did not adapt books 4 & 5, it’s as simple as that, everything is different and feels like it’s out of character. For the first 4 seasons, I thought that Sansa’s story was handled fine (I haven’t watched GOT seasons 1-4 in over 4 years, so my memory is a bit foggy on the specifics tho). Sophie Turner isn’t exactly how I picture Sansa to look, but her acting was fantastic, especially for someone so young and for her first television role.

I personally haven’t seen people “hating on Sophie Turner”, but I’m not involved in the GOT side of tumblr, only the ASOIAF side, so I don’t see people talk about the actors that much. I do know that there are people in fandom (not just in the GOT fandom but in fandom in general) who will conflate actors with their characters. I have seen some toxic Show!Sansa stans do this with Show!Dany and Emilia Clarke (mostly last year). It seems to be more of a problem with female characters and actresses (‘cause sexism), and I think it’s really creepy and disturbing. Sophie Turner is not Sansa, so if anyone is “hating on her” because they didn’t like how the show changed Sansa’s story, that’s really fucked up. I don’t know much about the GOT cast, actually, I rarely watched interviews or behind-the-scenes videos. I don’t know if Sophie Turner has said that she likes the show’s ending or something like that, so if that was the case I could see people being critical of her opinion. But even if she did like the ending of the show and the way the writers changed her character after season 4, I still don’t think you should hate on an actor for that. Because the actors didn’t make the show, the showrunners did. It’s not on the actors to get everything right about their characters, it’s on the writers and directors to tell them the story and guide them through their acting. I don’t blame the actors for anything about GOT (no one should), I blame the writers.

What I find is the biggest problem about post-season 4 Sansa is how little regard they had for her character, while simultaneously claiming she was their favorite. I believe their exact quote was “Sansa was the character we cared about more than anyone”. Okay… then why did you cut her storyline? I feel like their whole “she’s our favorite character” act was more to try to defend against the criticism of the cutting of her storyline. What bothers me most is how they just casually threw her into the Ramsay plotline without thinking at all about what that meant. If you’re going to have one of the main characters of the show get serially raped, you need to think about what you’re doing and how to handle that horrific situation. In the books, the Jeyne Poole storyline is handled very carefully. The acts committed by Ramsay against Jeyne and Theon are never really shown, only implied, alluded to, or very briefly described. The show, on the other hand, explicitly showed Theon’s torture scenes, and made Ramsay a much bigger character in seasons 5 & 6 than he is in the books. I feel like they just used him for shock value, because so much of Game of Thrones revolved around shock value and in-the-moment reactions. I think they just saw Ramsay as a character they could turn into Joffrey 2.0, which is why they put Sansa with him. They didn’t care to follow Sansa’s book arc, they just wanted to continue the whole “caged-bird” thing with her, for shock value.

And to deflect against criticism, that’s why they made her so smart and powerful in the final few seasons. There’s next-to-no build up, no character development, no focus on her growth, the show just tells us that Sansa is the smartest character, and the audience is expected to agree. Because D&D did not care about showing her development. There’s a line in season 7, when Sansa and Arya kill Littlefinger, where Sansa says “thank you for all of your lessons, Lord Baelish.” And that immediately stuck out to me, because that sounds like something Book!Sansa would say. The show cut out Sansa’s Vale storyline, where she spends much more time with Littlefinger, and so… what “lessons” is Show!Sansa referring to here? They didn’t spend a lot of time together in the show. I do think that Sansa will defeat Littlefinger in the books, so that line makes sense for Book!Sansa.

What they did was cut Sansa’s storyline, throw her into a horrific situation that they used for shock value, and then expected to be praised when they made her a “girlboss” later on. They basically said “hey, we know we essentially erased this character’s arc and development, but at least we did a feminism, right?” And that’s what really pisses me off. The blatant disregard for female characters, then saying “no, we do care about them! Believe us!”

Lindsay Ellis has a really good video called “Woke Disney” that touches on this. Basically, she talks about how Disney’s recent live action remakes tend to make each of the princesses a “#girlboss” in a very corporate, fake-feminist manner that is very easy to see right through. (I recommend just watching the video, she goes more in-depth into the subject.)

A similar thing occurred with GOT (the show only had one female writer after season 4, by the way, who was a staff writer for season 8. And before that, only 4 episodes were written by a woman). D&D wrote a lot of problematic, misogynistic, homophobic, and racist things. Then they tried to cover that up with (to use a line from Ms. Ellis) a coat of #girlboss paint. For example, I remember after s8e3 (when Arya killed the Night King) came out, that was when the big criticism for season 8 really started. People saw how bad the writing of that episode was, and how ridiculous and anti-climactic it all felt. However, when people criticized the manner in which the Night King was killed (i.e. saying that it would have made more narrative sense for Jon to do it instead of Arya), there was another group of people who called that criticism sexist. “That’s sexist! You’re just upset that a girl did it instead of a guy!” Which… ugh... do I need to explain how idiotic that line of reasoning is?

And that’s kind of how the HBO show tried to get away with its misogyny, not just the misogyny of Dany’s ending, but of the whole show in general. “Look, we can’t be misogynistic, we had Arya kill the Night King! Look, we can’t be misogynistic, we had Sansa become a #girlboss!” Bullshit, you’re just trying to hide your sexism and bad writing behind a facade of fake feminism.

… *sigh* ...

Anyway, nothing but love for Book!Sansa, and nothing but hate for the writers of Game of Thrones. I hate how the show turned Sansa into a very polarizing character, when she shouldn’t be. None of the child characters of ASOIAF should be polarizing, they’re children for fucks sake.

I’m very excited to see where GRRM takes Sansa’s character in TWOW, I feel like she’s got an awesome journey coming up (hopefully involving her discovering her skinchanging powers, taking down Littlefinger, and heading north for home). 

Uh, wow, this got really long… and I’m exhausted after thinking about the sh*w that much. Here, as a treat for reading all the way down to the bottom, have a Sansa WIP drawing that I haven’t finished yet:

[cavanaghcharactersxreaderfics]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Earth-19 Harrison "HR" Wells/You, Earth-19 Harrison "HR" Wells & You Characters: Earth-19 Harrison "HR" Wells Additional Tags: More Fluff, valentines day, Romantic Fluff Summary:

As requested by Tumblr user Countlesswells: It’s been a good amount of time since he joined Team Flash but you’ve never really came around to speak to him. You’re much more reserved than the rest and that is what ironically draws him closer to you. His curiosity causes him to grow a crush on you. Over the course of a few weeks HR throws subtle hints and gestures expressing that you entice him. As the days begin to close in on Valentine’s Day he finally gets the courage to ask you out on a date.

HR Wells always managed to make a presence at STAR Labs. His arrival had taken everyone aback, and the discovery that his mind was far from a new Einstein caused tension. Eventually however, everyone settled into HR’s quirky and eccentric mannerisms. HR felt like he was finally home here at STAR Labs; he had friends and people who cared about him, they made him feel like he was important and had a purpose.

He managed to grow close to just about everyone except the one member of the team who usually hung back. They weren’t necessarily rude or unfriendly, but preferred to keep a distance. HR did his best to respect the distance, but found them to be alluring. They were a strikingly gorgeous individual, with distinct features and a kind smile that flashed every now and again when HR made a joke. HR knew very little about the distant figure, but something about them drew him in. Maybe it was the general mysterious aura, or maybe it was just his own curiosity. Whatever it was, his desire to break through to them was incredible, and HR was prepared to do whatever it took to get there.

You, meanwhile, were indeed quiet and reserved. You preferred a quiet moment of study in order to save up your energy for the outbursts of metas that were always just around the corner. HR’s undeniable energy in the building was occasionally distracting and you often found yourself looking up to him gazing at you with a curious expression splashed on his face. He looked upon you like a piece of art, which confused you greatly at first.

There would be times in passing when he would just give a simple compliment. Nothing forward or excessive, just something along the lines of “your hair looks great today,” or “your outfit is stellar, miss y/l/n.”

You always gave him a look, occasionally giving him a slight smile to reward his compliments. He always gave you the biggest grin in response to the smallest of smiles. You were perplexed by the short interactions you had with him. They were not unpleasant in the least, but his for a man so filled with caffeine and exuberant light, he was much quieter around you. It was almost a nice change to have someone respect your boundaries and not tell you that you need to get out more or need to be more social. He was respectful of your distance and quiet countenance.

You weren’t unfriendly in the least, despite what your exterior may have said to the world. You were guarded and cautious, which Team Flash admired, and they were grateful for what you contributed to the team. They were some of the few people in the world who seemed to genuinely understand you, and you were always willing to give back 100% to the people who gave you so much. Harry and you were always close, being similar in nature and personality. This was why you had been so cautious of HR when he first arrived. He seemed, at first, to be a very “in your face” kind of person and you had been pleasantly surprised to find otherwise through your moments together.

It was another cold winter in Central City. The late February wind practically blew you into the doors of STAR Labs. The sky was grey and cloudy with a threat of a snowstorm approaching. Shaking off the cold and stepping into the warm lab, you hung your coat and made your way through the circular hallways towards the Cortex.

A warm pink glow greeted you upon arrival causing you to smile. H.R., still hanging decorations, turned as he saw you walk in. He gave you his usual smile, spreading ear to ear and lighting up his pale blue eyes. “Y/n!” He said excitedly, jumping off of a step ladder where he was hanging paper hearts, “I take it you like the decor?”

“It’s definitely unexpected, but it’s really pretty. It’s also really early, how long have you been at this?” You questioned, looking around at the glowing pink lights, paper hearts, and pink tinsel that was strung about the cortex.

“Hmm,” he glanced at his naked wrist, “well considering I haven’t slept, I have been here for… a while.”

“You haven’t slept? Why not? It’s just Valentine’s Day, it doesn’t have to be as extravagant as Christmas, does it?” You giggled as HR passed you a cup of coffee.

“Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be horribly extravagant every year, but this year…” He paused, staring down into his own coffee cup, “This year deserves to be special.”

“Tell me now, HR, why is that?” You sat down spinning the chair round to face HR. This was the most conversation you had ever had with HR, you thought to yourself.

“Mon dieu! I thought you’d never ask! Well, this is my first time celebrating Valentine’s Day on Earth-1. My first time spending it with people I actually like and that, you know, seem to actually like me too. I know it’s usually a romantic thing and all that but, why not celebrate love for everyone? Friends, family, lovers, and, well, why not your dog or your hamster? I feel like so long as I’m here with all you guys, I might as well make the most of it, you know?” HR sighed, his long-winded expression of love completed.

You gifted HR your usual tiny smile, the corners of your lips barely turning up, “I think that’s a great sentiment, HR. It’s really sweet of you to do all this for all of us.”

“Funny enough, there is a bit more to this than just celebrating with BA or Francisco, I uh-” he paused again, “well, I have been meaning to, for some time now, well I mean I guess, I, hmm.” He stopped again, taking a moment to look around at the glowing pink decorations around him, “Ah, I guess there’s no need to beat around the bush here, I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight? I know you aren’t usually super social and I respect that, I mean there are days when I don’t even want to look at myself in the mirror, but that’s besides the point. I just mean, you know, I don’t want to pressure you into anything but you’re very attractive and more than that you seem like a genuinely wonderful person and it would be my honor to spend my first Earth 1 Valentine’s Day with you, if that’s okay?”

You sat in your chair, a full fledged smile on your face as you laughed.

HR’s face fell as tears came down your face as you laughed, “I’m sorry I just, I shouldn’t have said anything I guess, I, forget it.”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck as he started to walk off. You jumped from your chair and caught his arm, “No! HR I’m sorry, it’s just, no one’s ever asked me out in such a lengthy and genuine mannerism. It was a surprise to me. I know I’m usually not the most talkative person but, I’m more than willing to go out with you. In fact, I’m the one who should feel honored to have someone as sweet and genuine as you ask me out.” You took his hand, “HR, I will absolutely spend your first Earth-1 Valentine’s Day with you. I wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else.”

HR absolutely beamed, “really? I mean, I’m honored that you’re honored that I’m honored. We can go wherever you want, we don’t have to go out either, we could stay in! I could make coffee and I could bake some biscuit-” you cut him off this time.

“HR, you’ve had too much caffeine already. Why not just go somewhere quiet for dinner, okay? Just the two of us, nothing big or loud, just quiet. Somewhere we can… talk.” You smiled.

“I would love, to talk to you, y/n. It’s all I’ve wanted.” HR put an arm around your shoulder, looking down at you with a smile. “Now, want to help me finish these decorations?”

“You have more?!” The room already looked as if cupid had puked on every surface.

“So SO many more.” HR said, deadpan.

“Well, hand me the string, let’s see how much we can cover Cisco’s desk in hearts.”

“You really are the woman of my dreams.” He dumped a bundle of paper hearts into your arms with a cheeky grin “let’s make some love.”

[ldrmas]

Intrulogical Day 7 Free Day Submission

~ Hey Guys. I wasn’t originally going to have a submission today but I couldn’t leave this alone. I had to see Remus in the Beeltejuice get up. Or at least see it as much as I could since i can’t draw for frick sake. I’m too deep in the fandom that I couldn’t leave it alone. So a story is what you get. My basis of the look is Will Blum’s Beetlejuice Musical look.  Here’s the look here 

Okay so here we go. Intrulogical Week Day 7 Free Day!  Warnings is that There is no Smut but heavy neck kissing. And Implied Sexual Teasing!  This is also to go with my Octololli story and my Day 5 submission that Logan has a suit kink.  ~ Halloween Day in the mind palace was usually like a regular day. It depended on the year. Usually it was just a regular day but at 7 o clock that was when the party started. Roman would spruce up the common room and they would have a Halloween movie marathon. A combination of horror, Disney Halloween, and fun Halloween movies. They needed the combination because Patton couldn’t do full horror movies. He would be a mess for the next several days if they tried it that way and they didn’t want to inconvenience Thomas like that. This year was going to be the first time all of them would be joining the party. 

This year was also so bad that Roman had the common room ready right at 7 am sharp. He wanted to enjoy this day for as long as he could. The sides were free to do what they wanted to do during the day but Roman made them all promise to start the party at 5 pm. They all agreed to his conditions. They would meet back in the common room and would start the party on time. Logan hid out in the lab Remus had made him on the Dark side of the Imagination Kingdom. He would never admit to any of the others, but Logan had got dressed in his Halloween costume around noon. He played around the lab like a mad scientist possessed. After being denied being Doctor Frankenstein that one year he was thankful that he could finally wear the costume and not have to fear Roman changing it. He might have been acting silly but at least he was having fun. He could admit that. It might have been the powers of the Imagination finally getting to him but for today he could let it happen. They all needed a little fun in their lives after how bad this year had been. Time passed and he made experiments causing explosions, potions that had no purpose, and he even made a notebook and pen set that would copy his notes as he talked to the pen.  He didn’t let the disappoint show on his face as he heard a knock upon the lab’s door. “It’s open.” He called out as he turned to a burner he had going and began to turn the flame down. The only reason someone would be coming into the room would be because it was near 5 o clock. He could hear footsteps stepping up to him. He reached for the water bottle he had within reach and took a sip. All the evil laughing had made his throat raw. 

 “It’s showtime, babe.” Logan paused as he recognized the line and the voice. He looked up at Remus for only a second then had the decency to at the last moment turn his head away as the water spat out of his mouth. Remus out right laughed as the water came out of Logan’s mouth and the poor Logic side started to cough from doing so. “What’s wrong, babe? Did I surprise you?” The Dark Creative side was dressed as Beetlejuice from the Musical. Remus had done an excellent job at recreating the look. With powers unlimited it wouldn’t have been hard for him to do so but still he could have half assed it as well. Logan should have known that Remus didn’t do anything half assed. Remus had taken the time to make sure the suit was the exact copy of the look from the musical. His jacket was covered in mossy splotches and was frayed where it should be. He had the stripped under shirt and pants plus his shoes were scuffed to accommodate the look. His tie was practically glowing even in the fully lit laboratory.  He didn’t give himself a full beard, but he did still have his mustache that was tinted green. His hair was also standing up, wavy, and tinted green as well. The two had watched the musical because Remus had found a copy and had really loved it. Logan wasn’t one for musicals, but he was one for making Remus happy. Besides the fact that the main character was in a genuinely nice suit throughout most of the play helped Logan to like the show. Once they had both seen it Logan had admitted that it wasn’t the worse and he had somewhat enjoyed it. The glow of happiness from Remus at his statement had made his meta-fiscal heart flutter.   He should have known Remus would chose this as his costume for Halloween. He knew Logan’s kink was suits so any character wearing a suit was one Remus was going to pick out of the others. He never missed a chance to make Logan blush. Which was what Logan was doing now. He was a little flushed from the choking on the water, but he could admit it was because Remus looked so hawt. The character fit Remus really well. Remus knew how to be demonic. Just like now, Remus knew his weakness was suits and to wear one that Logan would have to gaze at all night long would be the death of him. “Did I know how to pick them or what, babe?” Remus smirked as he adjusted the lapels and tie. Logan was still turned away from him but he knew eventually the Logical side would look at him again. “You…” Logan cleared his throat one last time to ease the ache from the laughing and now from his coughing fit. 

“…Yes, Remus, you picked a …an ideal choice of wardrobe. “ Logan admitted as he finally turned back to the Dark creativity and settled his eyes upon him again. He used all his willpower and strength to not let a blush devour his cheeks and face. Remus smirked slyly as he ran a black fingernailed painted hand through his defining gravity green hair.  “You did too, babe. I love it when you play mad scientist. You’re giving me a boner!” Remus laughed as he pulled out a femur bone from behind his back and waved it in front of Logan’s face. He smirked as Logan lightly smiled at the dumb recited joke from the play and took the bone from the dressed up creativity to set it on the table. “So Lo, you having fun?” “Yes. Very much. But I suppose its time for the party, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I don’t have a clock in the lab so I must have lost track of time.” Logan sighed sadly as he looked at his work bench to make sure all the work wouldn’t cause any more harm while he was out of the lab. “Yeah, Roman’s been whining for you. Saying we can’t start the party without you and all that but…” Remus chuckled as he moved Logan to face him then trapped him against the table. He placed his hands on either side of Logan before bringing a hand up and burying into Logan’s sweat slicked hair. He tilted Logan’s head to an angel before settling several pecking kisses right on the spot where the green colored being usually would leave a dark angry claiming hickey. “…We could just stay here and do something more fun instead. I’m dying here, babe, I wanna hear ya say my name.” Remus recited the line perfectly and a pleasurable shudder soared through Logan’s body at the words. It was tempting. Very tempting. They hadn’t gotten to hang out together as much as they would have wished these past few weeks. To finally have a chance to be with Remus alone again was so enticing that Logan almost said yes. But this night was important to them all. Holidays was usually mainly Roman’s thing but Halloween was also really important to Virgil. Plus he couldn’t bring himself to say yes when this would be the first year Janus would be included as well. The snake being didn’t do holidays as much but even he had been truthful to Logan and admitted that he was rather touched that they would be spending the holiday together for once. So no matter how much he wanted to stay with Remus all night and make those beautiful sounds that Remus was hoping for he still shook his head. He eased his hands between them and gently backed Remus away from his neck. “As much as I know that we both want to do such a thing, it wouldn’t be fair to the others. Let’s go to the party. You and I have time to be together like this after the others have had their fill of us.” Logan said with a small smile. He also leaned forward and kissed Remus tenderly to keep the promise that once the party was over they could do whatever Remus wished. Remus smiled into the kiss but eventually pulled back releasing Logan from the table. He still took his white gloved covered hand in his own though to start walking them out of the lab. 

“You’re right, babe. On we go, cause like I said, it’s showtime!” They left the imagination kingdom as Logan laughed. Yes, it was show-slash-party time indeed. ~ And there we go. I hope you all have enjoyed. Thank you all for being part of Intrulogical Week. I have had soo much fun!  I Love this musical so much so if you do too feel free to message me so we can talk about it! 

[awhitehead17]

3am Food Thoughts

TimKon, Fluff, Cuddles, Sleep.

Summary: Finding himself unable to sleep, Kon heads to the kitchen early hours of the morning in search for food. When he gets there he finds both Tim and Cassie awake and working on projects.

Enjoy! :D

Kon wonders towards the kitchen and is only mildly surprised to see the light on when he gets there.

If it were anywhere else, being in the kitchen at 3am would look rather odd, but here in Titan’s Tower it just happened to be a regular occurrence. The only strange thing about it would be who was up at that moment.

When he walks into the room he finds both Tim and Cassie sitting at the island. Cassie’s got piles of papers surrounding her while Tim is speedily typing away on a laptop in front of him. They’re both dressed in baggy shirts and sweatpants. Tim’s hair flops over his eyes while Cassie’s hair is in a messy bun.

“What brings you two minions into the kitchen at this time of night?” Kon questions lightly walking over to the fridge. He was hungry, that being his reason why he was in the kitchen at ass o’clock in the morning (and that he was too restless to sleep, but no one needs to know that).

Tim stops typing for a moment to send him a raised eyebrow. “If anyone on this team are minions, it would be you and Bart, Cassie and I run this show.”

Cassie snorts from her seat. “Excuse you, I run this show. You just happen to be my second in command, my number one minion with some brain cells. We’re here doing important team business, what are you doing here Kon?”

Kon grabs an apple from the fridge and strolls over so he was standing behind Tim. He leans over the teen, drapes his arms around Tim’s neck and shoulders and drops his chin down to rest on the top of his head.

Kon laughs when he looks down and finds Tim’s computer screen spilt into two, one half had a document open while the other showed a solitaire game. “Hungry.” He replies simply.

Underneath him, Tim hums. He starts squirms in Kon’s arms so Kon loosens his grip allowing Tim to shift away slightly so he could look up at him. Kon raises an eyebrow at Tim in question but his boyfriend only studies him for a moment before turning back to the computer. Kon soon returns to his previous position with his arms wrapped around Tim.  

The three of them stay together like that in the kitchen for some time. Kon mindlessly watches as Tim smoothly shifts between working on the document, playing the game of solitaire and answering any of Cassie’s questions. He didn’t know what they were working on, so he opts to stay quiet as he has nothing to contribute to the conversation.

“-ner. Conner. Kon!”

Kon blinks his eyes open and looks around in a daze, trying to work out what was going on. He was in the kitchen, hugging Tim while Cassie sat opposite them with an amused expression on her face. It’s then he realises that he must have accidently dozed off while resting against Tim.

“You okay?”

He looks down to where Tim was still sat, working on his laptop. One of his hands were stroking Kon’s arms soothingly. Resting his head against Tim’s once again, Kon hums. “I’m good, you okay?”

Tim huffs out a small laugh. “I’m not the one currently falling asleep standing up.” Kon makes a noise that was neither agreeing nor disagreeing with that statement. “Why don’t you go to bed Kon? It’ll be much comfier than resting on me.”

Kon doesn’t move and doesn’t really have the willpower to do so, he’s quite content with staying where he was.

From her position opposite them, she sends them a soft smile. “Why don’t you both go to bed? It’s late. Tim, I think we’ve covered everything now anyway. Let’s all call it a night.”

Tim sighs and Kon could just tell without seeing that he’s rolling his eyes, despite his response he doesn’t protest against it. Kon watches as Tim saves his work, quits his game and shuts down his laptop. It’s only then that Kon finally let’s go of him, he draws his arms away and takes a step back to allow Tim room so he could get up from the table.

Carrying the laptop with one hand, Tim takes Kon’s in his other one and gives it a squeeze as he smiles. Together they leave the kitchen, bidding Cassie a goodnight as they go, and walk hand in hand to Tim’s bedroom. Once they get there they go inside and Kon goes to the bed while Tim potters about putting his laptop away and then going to the bathroom before joining Kon on the bed.

The two of them climb under the covers and automatically curl up close in a spooning position, Kon as the big spoon and Tim as the little spoon. Kon loves it. He loves the feeling of having Tim in his arms and the knowledge that his very-human boyfriend was in fact uninjured and alright for once.

A couple tender moments later Tim lets out a sigh. He reaches up and laces his hands with Kon’s, intertwining their fingers. “You okay Kon? You went into the kitchen claiming you were hungry but didn’t actually eat anything and then you fell asleep on top of me.”

Kon breathes heavily and pulls Tim closer into him. He doesn’t really have an answer for that. “Got side-tracked I guess,” he shrugs, “I’m fine. Was just restless and wanted something to do, food seemed like a good idea and then I found you and Cassie in the kitchen.” It wasn’t really an explanation, but it was close to the truth at least.

Tim hums in response, not really seeming pleased with that answer, however he doesn’t push the matter. He squeezes Kon’s hands and relaxes in the meta’s hold. This time Kon finds himself drifting off, much easier than earlier. Maybe because he’s now with Tim? Feeling more at ease and comfortable to finally be able to rest properly? He couldn’t tell what it exactly was, but he finds that he doesn’t care.

In his arms Tim was now almost asleep too, meaning he’s feeling just as relaxed as Kon is and that warms Kon’s insides in a way he couldn’t describe. The trust between them was like none other, it truly was special. They’ll probably have a proper talk about what’s happened tonight in the morning but for now Kon was going to go to sleep comfortably with his boyfriend in his arms for the night.

[teaplease1717]

I'm Here: You’re Not Alone

Ship: Todoroki Shouto x Yaoyorozu Momo

Rating: T

Chapters: 1/1 (Complete)

Ao3: Click Here

I want to give a shout out to everyone who participated or helped out in the @todomomo-mini-bang-2020! This event has blown me away! And thank you to my fellow mods for all your hard work!

Before beginning, I must also thank my betas: FlourChildWrites and Emberstork for your help making this readable. And Taq for giving me some ideas on the ending.

Also big thank you to Marls_Bars21, who has drawn the beautiful piece found in this story. <3

A couple of last notes, there are slight spoilers for the current arc, but they are very light. Also, for this fic, the boys and girls' sides of the U.A. dorm are not separated with a barrier. I imagine it more like a hotel; you go left for the girl’s side and right for the boys.

XXXXXX

The pure black of the night bathed the U.A. campus in velvety darkness.

Inside the dorm, there was a feeling of tension that hung in the air, like static electricity building.

Momo rolled onto her back. Draping her arm over her forehead, she stared up at the silken canopy of her bed and briefly wondered if she'd ever get to see it again. She felt restless.

The truth was no one knew what to expect tomorrow. The heroes had no real insight into how many villains there would be or what their quirks were.

She felt a faint sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t as if she was afraid per se. Perhaps anxious or uneasy were the correct terms. They were only sixteen, yet were being sent off to fight — what was technically a war — against the League of Villains and Meta Liberation Front.

She wished her mother was there to hold her.

Turning over, Momo clicked the power button on her phone. 12:30. Too late to call home. She placed the phone back down and turned back over. She stretched her legs.

She really needed to try and sleep. Her alarm was set for 5:30, less than five hours away. Momo drew in a deep breath to clear her mind, but couldn't fall asleep.

All the top heroes of Japan would be present at tomorrow’s operation.

They’d been divided into four teams, two offensive forces and two support guards. Endeavor, the current number one hero, would be leading the main battalion, which would be over 80 kilometers away from where she would be stationed in the woods.

The likelihood that she would be fighting any of the more powerful villains was slim.

But not nonexistent.

Momo’s mind returned to the current number one hero, and her throat tightened. He had almost lost an eye fighting against the League earlier in the year.

What if an enemy with a power type quirk attacked her tomorrow? She’d be at a distinct disadvantage. Would she even be able to win?

Momo was fairly confident in her deductive and strategic prowess, but in the heat of battle, especially fighting Nomus, there was always a chance of failure.

Her fingers clenched the silken sheets. They had fought the League of Villains before — at last summer's training camp — and, if not for Awase, she would have been cleaved in half by one of the engineered Nomus. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory, and she turned back onto her side, curling into a ball.

What if she got a massive scar across her face like Endeavor?

What if she lost an eye?

No one would ever want to kiss her if she didn’t have both of her eyes. The thought hit her like a bucket of cold water, and Momo instantly felt guilt twist in her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Disgraceful, she berated herself.

Even if she were to get hurt and lose an eye or a limb, there was a lot more to the world than looks. Besides, getting injured was part of being a hero, too. She should be proud she was participating.

Still, Momo's chest clenched painfully. Anxious butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of never receiving a first kiss.

She drew in a long breath as she turned back over. Her thoughts were jumbled. Momo could almost hear Jirou poking fun at her for jumping to the worst possible conclusions, but she couldn’t help overthinking things. It was hard to turn off her mind when her thoughts started spiraling. She needed to talk to someone or at least not be alone.

Momo debated getting up. Perhaps, Jirou would allow her to sleep in her room. The Earphone Jack Hero might still be awake; she could talk her down from the metaphorical edge. And it wasn’t like her spending the night in Jirou’s room was unprecedented. Momo seemed to always end up there when she had a lot on her mind.

She sighed as she gave up on sleep and got up. Slipping on her house slippers, Momo assessed herself quickly in the mirror hanging on the back of her door, ensuring her white chiffon nightgown was appropriate before heading down to the third floor.

The elevator dinged quietly as the metal doors slid open. Momo tiptoed out and made her way down the dimly lit hallway.

As she rounded the corner to the girl’s side of the dorm, a faint glow from underneath Jirou’s door caught her attention. Momo’s eyes widened, and she inhaled deeply, the tightness in her chest loosening.

She hurried closer, a smile pulling at her lips as she stopped in front of Jirou’s room and raised her hand to knock when soft laughter wafted from behind the closed door. Momo froze; her eyes widened.

Jirou and...Kaminari?

She felt something sink in her stomach, and she pressed her lips together. What was he doing there? It was late; he should be in his own room.

The conversation was muffled by the door, but it was definitely his voice from inside, she was sure of it.

Momo swallowed over the unbidden feeling of jealousy that rose up in her throat. She let her hand drop back down to her side and took a step back.

She shouldn’t interrupt.

It wasn't like people were required to have only one friend. Jirou had no responsibility to her. She was allowed to have friends outside of Momo.

Besides, Jirou and Kaminari had been growing closer recently. Momo would just be intruding if she were to ask to join them.

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked down the long hallway. The only other girl on the third floor was Hagakure.

Would she still be up?

Momo shook her head. She shouldn't be waking her classmates up just because she couldn’t rest and wanted to be with someone.

She sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night and headed back towards the elevator. She paused before the metal doors, her finger ghosting over the raised button for the first floor. Would anyone still be downstairs? Momo pressed her lips together and pulled her hand back.

No.

She really needed to go back to bed. Staying up would set a bad example for all the other students. Besides, she already knew no one would be down there.

Momo drew in a deep breath and pressed the top button.

As she shuffled out of the elevator, she paused. The moon shone through the plexiglass windows like a beacon in the dark. Momo looked to her left. The door to the roof was on the boy’s side. Her fingers twitched.

No one would notice.

She knew from experience that the alarm on the door had been disabled. She could go up there for a few minutes. The fresh air might help calm her, she reasoned as she turned and crept down the right corridor.

There were three boys on the top floor: Satou, Sero, and Todoroki.

Momo’s eyes flickered unconsciously towards Todoroki’s door as she passed. The placard with the twenty-one strokes of his surname glowed faintly in the soft light of the display case.

She bit her lip. She had watched Todoroki since the beginning of the school year. He had been a recommended student like herself and yet had been so different from her. He was strong, confident, unwavering. He was the type of person that brought others calm.

And she admired him immensely.

Momo pressed her hand over her chest as she felt her heartbeat speed up. She didn’t know when it had happened, perhaps when he had encouraged her during the practical exam against Aizawa, but she found herself increasingly fond of her seatmate. It was like a seedling had taken root in her chest, growing slowly over the last months, and transforming her passing crush into a chronic state of pining.

She looked away as she continued towards the stairwell. A selfish part of herself wanted to see him tonight, wanted to be near him. Maybe not to confess — definitely not to confess — but, perhaps she could talk to him like Jirou and Kaminari were doing. Momo’s chest tightened.

Out of all her classmates, Todoroki seemed to understand her better than anyone. He was quiet and unobtrusive, but he knew how to make her smile. And when her thoughts began to spiral as they were doing that night, he always seemed to know how best to save her.

But, Momo wasn’t about to wake him up for something as silly as to talk.

The green exit sign glowed above the stairwell.

She climbed the steps and took a deep breath before pulling open the steel door to the roof. The fluorescent lights flickered to life at her movement. Momo gasped as she stepped outside and felt the crisp April breeze on her face. The wind nipped at her skin, rustling through her nightgown.

For a moment, Momo stood uncertain in the doorway, looking out at the empty concrete space before drawing in a deep breath and moving over to the chain-link fence enclosing the rooftop. She leaned against the cool metal, her fingers slotting into the holes as she gazed out onto the silent campus.

The tall training halls speckled across the forested grounds like boulders sticking out of the sea. And in the distance, the lights of Musutafu shimmered as if they were stars painted across a dark canvas.

A sudden gust caught in her black hair and rustled her white chiffon nightgown, sending a shiver down Momo’s spine.

If it had been a regular school year, this month would have been the school dance. Perhaps, Todoroki would have asked her to go with him. Her heart stuttered as the thought swirled unbidden through her conscience. Momo’s mouth twisted into a frown.

What was wrong with her?

There were far more important things in the world than to be worried about such frivolous things as first kisses and school dances.

Momo closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure where this sudden narcissistic streak had come from, but she needed it to stop.

And yet, was it wrong to crave normalcy? Did being a pro hero really mean she had to leave her other dreams behind?

“Yaoyorozu.”

Momo swallowed over a nervous squeak as her head jerked up. Letting go of the fence, she turned in surprise towards the deep voice that she would have known anywhere and straightened.

Todoroki Shouto stood in the doorway staring at her. He had changed out of his U.A. jersey and into gray sweatpants paired with a white t-shirt that seemed to fit him a tad bit too well.

Momo felt her cheeks and ears grow warm.

“To-Todoroki-san?” Her voice hitched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What are you doing up here?”

Todoroki stared at her for several seconds before sighing. His head dropped as he slid a hand out of his pocket to rub the back of his neck.

“I thought I heard you walk by,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance. “You said you always come up here when something is troubling you, so I thought I’d check.”

Momo’s heart leapt at the thought that he had remembered such an inconsequential conversation before she pushed the feeling down.

She licked her lips and dropped her gaze.

“I’m fine,” she said, running her hands down the front of her nightgown, smoothing out invisible wrinkles. Momo forced herself not to overanalyze the comment or the fact that he had come to look for her.

She wouldn’t hope.

“I was just having a hard time falling asleep. I’m sorry to have woken you.”

His heterochromatic eyes were pale gray and blue as he raised his head and stared at her, his expression masked. “You wouldn’t be up here if you were fine,” he finally said as his eyes locked on hers. “What’s wrong?”

Todoroki’s expression had barely flickered, but something in his tone sounded genuinely concerned. Momo felt her chest tighten. She shifted and grasped her other arm. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

She was simultaneously hopeful of what his concern could mean and disappointed in herself for reading into his every word.

Todoroki was going to become a great hero, the type of hero who would bring peace to the citizens of Japan. And, no matter how much she wanted to, Momo wasn’t foolish enough to think that his concern was anything other than a general courtesy. Surely, he would extend this kindness to any of their classmates.

Wouldn’t he?

“Can I join you?” he asked abruptly, pulling Momo from her thoughts.

Her eyes snapped up. Todoroki didn't wait for her to respond as he moved closer. He stopped on her right side and stared out at the U.A. campus.

There was a long silence.

Momo took a moment to study him from under her lashes. He was striking. All contrast. Fire and ice. Crimson and moonlight. Turquoise and steel. And as much as she tried not to let appearances affect her judgment of people, she couldn’t help but agree with Ashido that Todoroki was the best-looking male of their grade.

What would he think of her if she had an ugly scar across her face like his father? Momo felt her stomach drop at the thought, and she looked away, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed.

It was a silly notion. He had his own scar over his left eye. If there was one person who wouldn’t judge her for a facial wound, it would be him.

Weak and pathetic — that is what he would think of her disgraceful thoughts. Momo's stomach twisted painfully; she didn't know if she could handle his scorn. She hugged herself and shivered.

“What are you thinking about?”

The air around them suddenly warmed.

Todoroki must have used his quirk.

Momo felt a light fluttering in her stomach at the realization. He was always so considerate.

She closed her eyes. “A lot of things.”

“About tomorrow?”

She hesitated then nodded minutely. He didn’t say anything, and she opened her eyes to study a crack in the gray concrete flooring.

“Todoroki-san,” she said softly after a minute. “Do you think we can win?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him tilt his head back to stare up at the sky, his expression turning pensive. “It'll be difficult,” he said slowly. “But, they've gathered all the top heroes in Japan, so I think we can.”

Momo hummed in agreement.

His lips thinned, and he looked back down. “But, we’ll fight harder," he said, his tone firm. "We have people that we wish to protect, so losing isn’t an option.” He brought his hand up and slowly curled his fingers into a fist. “I think that is what makes us heroes strong — maybe.”

She looked up at him. “Your family?” she asked.

He dropped his hand, and his eyes met hers. “Something like that,” he said, and his stare seemed more pointed than usual.

It felt like there was more to that statement than he was saying, but she didn’t want to pry. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “You’ll be with Midoriya-san, and Bakugo-san evacuating citizens near the city center tomorrow, no?”

Todoroki hummed, then turned to fully face her. “Yeah, but that’s not what’s really bothering you though, is it?”

Momo flinched.

He really could read her a little too well. She felt her face warm and drew in a deep breath.

“No, it’s not.” She folded her hands in front of herself. Then, before she could reconsider, added. “I’m nervous about tomorrow.”

Todoroki stared at her but didn’t say anything as he waited for her to elaborate.

Earlier, she had desperately wanted to see him, but now that he was there, a small part of her wished for him to leave. She didn’t want him to see this side of herself.

Momo dropped her gaze. Briefly, she contemplated lying to him but quickly disregarded the notion. Todoroki was incredibly perceptive and could be annoyingly stubborn. There was no way that he’d let the conversation go if he thought that she was hiding something, and she had never been a very good liar.

She could feel his heterochromatic eyes on her.

Momo licked her lips and drew in a deep breath. Knowing that he wasn’t going to leave, she suddenly was filled with the overwhelming desire to talk.

“I…I knew that we would have to fight one day, but somehow it never really hit me until tonight that we are only sixteen and are about to be helping out in an operation that is far larger than ourselves.”

He didn’t say anything. Her fingers twitched, and her eyes flickered towards him. Todoroki's hands rested by his sides, so close that if she stretched out her fingers, they’d brush his. She looked away, pushing down the foolish urge to reach for him.

“Todoroki-san, do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a normal high school student? If you weren’t on the hero track.”

Todoroki looked at her for a moment then tilted his head back slightly.

“I don’t know,” he answered after a minute. “It had never been an option, so I guess I never have,” he said slowly looking back at her.

Momo swallowed, twisting her hands together. Her throat felt constricted. “It’s embarrassing, really, but I was thinking about all the mundane and inconsequential moments that we may miss out on because of this path. Tomorrow we are going into battle, but I haven't even gone on a date or had my first kiss. And I wonder what if I never get those moments.”

“Don't get me wrong,” she added hurriedly, clenching a hand over her chest. She felt herself flush. “I'm proud to be a hero, and I'm not having self-doubts about my choice. But I guess I never thought about all the little ways my life would change because of it. I just wonder what if -” Her voice hitched. “What if something happens tomorrow that makes it so I can never have those things? Never go on a date, or go to a school dance. Never get married or have children. It’s so stupid. I know.”

An aching sensation spread across her nose and cheeks. She sniffed and brought her hand up to rub at her eyes with the back of her hand as she struggled not to cry. “I hate having these shallow thoughts when tomorrow’s mission could decide the fate of Japan, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t want to be alone just because I’m trying to be a her-”

“Yaoyorozu.”

Momo jerked at the firmness in his tone. It had been a long time since she had heard him use that voice. Not since Aizawa.

She turned slowly towards Todoroki, and her eyes widened in surprise as he stepped closer. “You’re not alone.” His gaze was intense.

A blush ran across her face and down her neck.

He lifted his hand and wavered for a moment before he pressed his palm against her cheek.

“I’m here,” he said softly, his thumb brushing away the tears she hadn’t realized had slipped down her face. “So, you don’t have to worry.”

His touch was gentle, almost tender as he cupped her cheek, and Momo choked back a soft sob as she closed her eyes. It was exactly how she had dreamed of him holding her.

Every night.

Every day.

In between studying and classes.

She let herself lean into Todoroki’s touch.

He was only comforting her, she reminded herself as her heart stuttered almost painfully in her chest. But surely, he wouldn’t judge her for this, would he? She was allowed this small comfort. Friends would allow for this, wouldn’t they?

After a moment, Momo drew in a deep, steadying breath and looked up.

Todoroki was close. His eyes were darker than she had ever seen them. They shone like molten silver and teal stars as he stared down at her, and Momo’s breath caught in her throat. It felt like her heart had stalled momentarily in her chest as he studied her face.

Then slowly — so slowly she wasn’t sure if her heart could take it — he closed his eyes and dipped his head down, brushing his lips against hers before fully capturing hers.

It was like lightning had struck Momo. She stood frozen under him, eyes wide, unbelieving for a moment before her whole body melted into his touch, and she closed her eyes and kissed him back.

His lips were soft as they moved over hers, and stars danced behind her eyes.

It felt like a burning, gaping ache that she hadn’t been aware of had finally been filled within her chest.

He kissed her a moment longer before pulling back.

His hand dropped from her cheek, and Momo’s eyes fluttered open as she watched him through a hooded gaze draw away. Then, suddenly it was like the magic of the moment had lifted. Her eyes widened as her mind jumped-started back into action as it tried to process what had just happened.

Momo could feel her face burning and she cupped her cheeks.

She felt elated and stunned that he had kissed her. But also uncertain. Was it something he meant or just something needed to be done to help take her mind off of tomorrow?

“Sorry if that wasn’t any good. That's my first kiss too.” Momo looked up. Todoroki had covered his mouth with his left hand. The tips of his ears were red, and the sight calmed her slightly.

Hesitantly, she brought her fingers to her lips. They were still warm from his mouth. “Wh-why?” she forced out.

Todoroki dropped his hand, and his usually expressionless features seemed almost bashful. “You said you were worried about never getting a first kiss. I - I hope it was okay that it was me?”

Momo felt her heart sink. So, he had only kissed her as a friend. He didn’t care for her like she did for him. She dropped her head. “Ye-Yes. It’s fine,” she said softly, turning away.

She inhaled deeply. She didn’t want him to see her cry. He had only been trying to help.

“Yaoyorozu.”

A strong hand closed around her wrist, and she looked up sharply.

Todoroki stared down at her. He seemed to be searching her face for something.

"Do you..." he started, and his eyes flickered slightly. He clenched his jaw and swallowed. "Do you remember what you told me after we defeated Aizawa?” He didn’t wait for her to respond before continuing hurriedly. “You said that I was the type of hero that brings people peace. That I make you feel at ease.”

His lips twitched. “I was really happy when you told me that. I had been struggling with what I wanted to be for so long, your words helped me decide. But—” Todoroki raised his head, and something glinted in his gray and turquoise eyes as they met hers. “It also made me realize that I wanted to be more than just a hero, too.”

Momo’s chest felt tight as she waited for him to continue.

He swallowed and seemed to hesitate before his expression hardened. “You asked earlier if I’d ever dreamed of a life not as a hero, and I said ‘no,’ but that’s not true. I have.”

“Todoroki-san…” Momo whispered; her heart was beating louder and louder in her chest, unsure of the implication of his statement.

He cleared his throat and straightened. “You have a lot on your list, so it may take me some time, but once this is over, I’d like to be the one who makes your dreams come true.” He looked at her, and his expression was intent. “That is, if you're okay with it being me?”

Momo drew in a deep, stuttering breath.

“Todoroki-san…” she forced out. She could barely breathe. It couldn’t be. She must be dreaming.

Something must have shown on her face because his lips tilted up into a small tentative smile that made her heart ache.

He so rarely smiled.

“So, I don’t want you to worry,” he said, releasing her wrist. Slowly, to give her time to draw away, he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her closer.

Momo was breathing quickly. She felt almost faint and didn’t know if her legs could support her anymore. Tentatively, she raised her arms and wrapped them around his back. She leaned her head against his chest. He smelled woodsy, like cedar, and she could feel the thrum of his heart as it beat through her.

Todoroki’s body relaxed. He dipped his head down to rest on hers.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll win,” he whispered into her hair. His tone was deep and unyielding, filled with conviction, and it warmed her.

Momo wrapped her fingers into the cotton of his shirt as the confidence of his voice sank into her. He was so certain, so sure of it, and Momo felt her heart catch in her throat. She swallowed. It was the same confidence that he had used all those months ago when he said he believed in her. It sounded like a promise.

She felt more tears slip over her cheeks as she drew back slightly to look up at him. She smiled. His face was so close to hers that she could feel the heat of his breath on her lips. “Yes, we’ll win,” she whispered back.

His eyes glittered; his hands tightened around her waist. And, as he leaned his forehead against her own, Momo felt the promise touch her soul.

XXXXX

This is dedicated to my hypochondriac, anxiety ridden self who would most definitely jump to the worst possible conclusion, and think I may die horribly or lose a limb or an eye or something if I was going into battle. One of the reasons I like Momo so much is because I feel she'd be the same. She's a thinker, and if she doesn't keep her thoughts in check they can easily spiral. I love the current arc, but shonen manga, in general, never have their characters dwell on the thought of getting hurt or killed. So, I wanted to touch on that topic. And how, when everything feels out of control sometimes you just need someone to ground you. Tell you that everything is going to be okay. To me, that is what Shouto is for Momo. He is her pillar of support, and he comforts her by telling her that no matter what happens he wants to be with her, and provide her hope that there is a life waiting for her after the battle.

Anyway, I was in a little bit of a mood (if you couldn't tell) when this came to me, so I hope it turned out alright and that it was enjoyable enough.

All comments and critiques are welcome. :D And once again thank you to everyone who participated or helped out with the TodoMomo Mini Bang!