#still the poem of all time. weird how it keeps changing my life after all these years.

[juno-infernal]

if you notice anything, it leads you to notice more & more. btw.

[luminous-jade-skies]

在心而在心思

In Heart and In Mind

Foresight 远见 (written as of patch 1.0)

Pairing: Jing Yuan/Vidyadhara! Reader

Content: rated M, complicated relationships, fluff, humour, complicated feelings, potentially older man/younger woman (the situation is complicated), morally grey fic, leaning yandere! Jing Yuan, minors dni

This is really long, like really long. I’ve been writing this for like a week or two (might’ve been two). Also as mentioned in the contents, it’s quite a weird situation (which makes it fun). I don’t recommend minors reading this because (no offence) it takes a bit of discretion. 在心而在心思 may also be a series (not chronological), so if you liked this one, there may be potentially more in the future.

I actually lost my 50/50 to Clara at 85 pulls which pained me greatly to the point where I swore off gacha games for a bit. Then I decided to swipe and got him in around 65. I also pulled for his lightcone and got it in 1 ten pull, so I’ll take that as his apology ahahaha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

———————————————————————————————————

“Amidst the falling golden light of the Arbor Glowing roots spread across the ship Conflict blooming from its branches, the pale aurora flames.

Where gingko leaves fall and dance in the wind Blood and despair follows Halls of humanity, forgotten in the pride bred from our bones. 

Thus sings our short history Where legends live and never die…”

Your brush draws out the last stroke of the character onto your scroll, the golden paint appearing on the brown reflective surface just in time for you to meet the matching irises of the Divine Foresight. 

“Late. Again.” The scroll is rolled and snapped shut—poem incomplete—and tucked into your bag. Its red tassel hangs out teasingly. “General, after many centuries I expect you to be less tardy.”

He plops down on the stool of the teahouse in front of you, making himself comfortable by crossing his leg and leaning his elbows on the table. “Oh?” He says with playful amusement. He reaches over to pinch your cheek which you immediately dodge. “If you’ve known me for so long, why still call me ‘general,’ hm?”

You huff. “Firstly, you’re my superior, I must address you as such. Secondly, I know you, not in heart, but in mind. If everything written in my past self’s journal is true, then you have hardly changed.”

As soon as Jing Yuan confirms an order of two Immortal’s Delight, he chuckles. “So you’ve finished reading all the journals?”

“Of course not, there’s so much to read! If you told me I was a writer in my past life I wouldn’t be surprised. I just finished reading volume twelve.” You cross your arms. 

“Oh? You’ve finished all twelve already?”

“No, I started from the most recent years. The information seems the most relevant, like recent developments in my job and instructions on how to deal with them. That being said, you’re not keeping anything from me aren’t you?” You eyed him suspiciously. 

He feigned hurt, wincing and throwing a dramatic hand to clutch his heart. “Did your past self write such terrible things about me? I miss when you acted carefreely, especially when you would rush into my arms without care.”

“I’m old enough to not be doing that!” You exclaimed, hiding your face behind your hand in embarrassment. After taking a quick second to compose yourself (wisely covered up with a fed-up groan), you clarify your pointed suspicion in a hushed tone. “The journal mentions how I was supposed to begin working as soon as I reached five years old. I’m fifteen now and I’ve only started.” 

It’s true. You were supposed to start when you were five. If everything had gone according to your past self’s plan, you would master literacy by three and finish most of your studies by five like “how you always did” as you had told him. However, Jing Yuan had different plans. You were catching on quickly that he wasn’t honouring your wishes as you had wanted them exactly. But it would take more deduction and action than merely suspicion to nail him in his sins. 

“If I were as wise as my past self seemed to have been, then I would not trust my reincarnation to solely one person, even if he was the Divine Foresight. It puts me in too much a vulnerable position.”

Jing Yuan sighs, but not of discontent. Returning to his leisurely posture, he stares at you from beneath his lashes lazily, saying. “You’re so cute in your caution.”

If any Outworlders were nearby to witness the mild flirt, they would have shot a concerned look at Jing Yuan. Was this middle-aged man making passive moves on a young girl?! If they tried looking around at other passersby, they would find no such reaction. With one glance at the girl in question, locals would notice the Vidyadhara horns and the red Erudition eye painted on the middle of her forehead, then continue on their day. Afterall, the Sky-Faring Logistics Master could take care of herself. 

The Dozing General always kept alertness just below the shallows of ease. You were a big deal in the Sky-Faring Commision, handling everything that involved the movement of goods of any kind. The seven Luofu Sky-Faring Commision Guilds imported and exported all sorts of products, but you arranged the receiving and releasing of said products. Suffice it to say, without you, the flow of hundred thousands of containers moving through the Luofu would be clashing in a blinding chaos. Much of the laymen didn’t realise that the ever-capable Logistics Master had not been at her post for the past ten years. Merely seeing you led them to assume you were doing your job as usual. As for admin and employees within the Commision… the temporary Master’s term had to be extended with the additional request (read: order) that any concerns were put to rest assuringly. Now, he had been relieved with good compensation and you were put in your proper position, everything would continue as normal.

No harm done.

Jing Yuan’s lips twitched when you scoff at his comment. “Still saying such things?” You say. “Hmph, my past self might have tolerated it, but I won’t. If you like her so much, then show me the same respect!”

“Why not act as casually as I treat you? Even the staff at the Seat call me Jing Yuan.” He leaned forward with a blossoming innocent smile. “You’re already acting so haughty and you’ve only just received your journals, have you forgotten who your official guardian is?”

“I knew it! My previous incarnation was a fool to put me in your hands!” You whined.

Mengming comes over just in time to stop your pouting fest with two refreshingly cold Immortal’s Delight. As you drag the drink closer, the expertly swirled fluffy whipped cream hardly bobs on top of the blended milk tea drink. A tiny hum of approval leaves your now grinning lips. That meant the drink was freshly blended, ice crystals still solid in the ideally near-frozen treat. Sprinkled on top is a generous cluster of brown sugar bits, glistening in what light sneaks into the shaded tea shop, as if the sweet syrupy goodness layered at the bottom of the same ingredient wasn’t enough. It forms a murky fog that swirls cloudily with the liquid, just waiting to be stirred and messed about inside the cup. Hiding amidst the murk are bouncy and chewy pearls, treasures you can’t wait to hunt with the red straw. 

You waste no time taking a big gulp, uncaring of how the freeze travels straight to your brain. A sugary explosion bursts in your mouth, accompanied by the slight bitterness of the tea in the most uplifting manner. Unaware of how the bliss draws happy hum after hum, you chew on the pearls. Your hair sways side to side with your head, hands gripping the drink tightly like the magical treat it was. 

The general takes a sip of his own, and savours the taste with you with closed eyes. Your past self was not here for the drink’s creation, and your go-to refreshment was a personally brewed pot of Whale-Tide Spring tea. Your present self, however, was less interested in the archaic drink and preferred the more modern one. What a shock it was to him when you refused another sip of the tea, letting out a small ‘bleh’ after only the first. In contrast, your love for Immortal’s Delight was as strong as your past love for Whale-Tide Spring (which was saying quite a lot, you always had a porcelain jar full of the leaves). 

Ever since its introduction, Immortal’s Delight has been a hit with the Luofu locals, but especially with you. His original intention was to reintroduce you to your favourite tea, but with how sideways that went, he tried something else. Yes, he received weird looks from others as he ushered a toddler to take a sip of the chilly thick drink, but you loved it in the end so that was that. It was also of great amusement to him how you cried and grabbed for it when he threatened to finish the rest of it. And yes, he gave you an extra sip because you learnt how to ask nicely that day. 

His eyes open to return to your form. Visions of the past overlaid themselves with the present. Past you was elegant, dignified with that slight tinge of whimsy. Present you was excitable, childish, bursting with a starlight that shone from your eyes—something he supposed could be called ‘youthful innocence.’ He wonders if this is what you were like in your younger days… thousands of years ago. You had mentioned how millenia of diligent journaling has maintained your wisdom’s edge no matter how many times you’ve moulted. It’s a well-known fact in the Xianzhou Luofu that the Sky-Faring Logistics Master never changes. Same name, same personality, somehow you’ve managed to create a unique sense of immortality…  

‘I’ll be moulting soon. I must ensure that all my knowledge and character are well-documented for my next reincarnation,’ you told him one day. Back then, he was a young apprentice under Jingliu, helping to move boxes of journals to your new residence. It was sunny that day, and he had just finished another exercise of 10,000 sword strokes, but he was eager to help as soon as he caught a glimpse of you in the distance. He had asked why you kept so many records, refusing to admit his struggle with the weight yet still feeling the strain of them all the same. 

‘Why does your reincarnation need to know all this?’

You tilt your head over your shoulder to smile at him, long horns extending gracefully in an arch against the bright sky. ‘I have been master over the Luofu’s goods flow for longer than you can ever imagine. Whether it be the receiving of commercial goods for residents or sending military supplies to our Cloud Knights, the hand that draws lanes and guides starskiffs must be an experienced one. The history of trade is great and the eyes that witness are the eyes that must be preserved.’ 

You wave a hand lightly at the box he carries. ‘—hence my records.’

He wonders just how much you’ve changed under his care. Letting you develop with hardly any direct influence from your past self must’ve affected you somehow. Not that he wanted you to change, Lan forbid. He loved you dearly, and he’s seen you be reborn over and over. He still dreams of every life you've lived and every moment you shared with him. As a good friend of his parents who worked in the Realm-Keeping Commision, he’s known you even before joining the Cloud Knights. Respect turned into admiration, then adoration, and further still in his adolescent years, a boyish crush which developed into an intimate love (and the lust that accompanies it) that he disguises under a close and familiar friendship. 

Qingzu likes to say ‘when the Sky-Faring Logistics Master steps into the Seat of Divine Foresight, the Dozing General dozes no longer.’ So perhaps he isn’t subtle about his feelings at all. 

Jing Yuan finds himself enjoying you enjoy your drink rather than enjoying the drink itself. You’re adorable, unbearably so. He’s met you in this age before but you’re always trying so hard to maintain your poise that he hasn’t seen you act this way. Really, you’re quite different now. As a kid you would quite literally jump for joy when he bought your favourite food or read you your favourite books. Pouting wasn’t a strange occurrence either. Sometimes he indulges in a little bullying to rile you up, have you stomping all over the place before giving you what you wanted. He watches you happily sip away, practically able to see warmth blossoming around you from joy. 

Your past selves never pouted nor showed excessive joy, and you had grown into it. He had noticed how the pressure to continue the legacy of your first life strained you, whether it be in the tired narrow of your eyes or the hollow sigh you let spill out. You may be the same in biological make-up, but really, you were successors of someone with very high standards and ambition… or were possibly part of a social experiment (he vocalised that joke at some point and you only shrugged, saying you could understand the intrigue which only makes it more plausible). 

The idea that he had ruined you somehow sent excited tingles zipping around in his brain. He had not only yourself in his grasp, but your very personality. When he made the decision to be your guardian, he wasn’t thinking of this indirect consequence. Clutching your bloody egg in his arms, the scene of your head getting cleaved off replaying countlessly in his mind, all he could think about was how he had to protect you and keep you close. 

So now you were his adorable little charge, and in the future, hopefully, his beautiful wife. He’s made sure to keep his hands off you, it was distasteful to even attempt and would dishonour you and your past incarnations. But his feelings were very true and well… you were still you. Regardless of how different you acted. 

“Why are you suddenly looking so happy…” you asked, nudging the empty cup away. “You haven’t touched your drink, if you don’t want it, can I?”

Just as you say that he takes a huge sip of his Immortal’s Delight, causing a considerable amount to disappear. And much to his delight, you frown a little and keep your eyes on him albeit with an unimpressed expression. 

“Now now, no need to make that face,” he mellowly drawls. “I’ve been so distracted by the beauty in front of me that my drink has become watery, how will you compensate?”

“General, I will throw my bag at you!”

He chuckles and continues to languidly sip, watching your face turn red. ‘How satisfying,’ he thinks. Long ago such teasing would only warrant a polite dismissal from you, even if you were blushing. Now he wonders what other expressions he could draw from you…

Two empty cups are left on the table as the both of you leave for a stroll. Jing Yuan had arranged for this lunch break meeting since he hardly sees you anymore. He missed when he could take you with him to his office, it certainly made those boring days go by a lot faster. On days where he’s forced to stay up late signing documents or going over a deployment plan, you’re there sleeping soundly on his lap. It only takes a single glance down to restore his energy. Now that you’re working he only ever gets to see you in the mornings and evenings, not quite enough time. 

There’s a pleasant breeze in the air and civilians are moving about peacefully. He allows himself to be lost in the atmosphere until he hears you mutter something. He looks down at you inquisitively with a small ‘hm?’ and you blink up. 

“Oh! It’s nothing!” You exclaim, waving your hands. “I was just wondering where Yanqing is.”

Yanqing. Your past self has never met him, he took in the boy not long ago and you’ve happily adopted him as your younger brother. The boy is usually at the training grounds with other Cloud Knights or at home studying (that’s what he tells him, but most likely he was distracted 80% of the time). Jing Yuan did ponder over whether to invite the boy, but decided that he could another time. Just like with you in the past, he brought Yanqing with him almost everywhere, but for today he just wanted to be alone with you.

“He said he would be at the training grounds mastering his sword strokes. Why?” Jing Yuan replied. He leans down closer until you can feel his breath ghost over your cheek. “Are you missing your little brother already?”

He pulls away as you jump in place and stumble back, slapping a hand on the afflicted cheek. He chuckles with an innocent expression at your fluster. 

“S-so? I’m just concerned for him! He’s usually with you and as his big sister, I have responsibilities, y-you know!” You sputter. “Don’t get close like that!”

The general quirks an eyebrow and your nervous sweating increases as his smile grows wider. ‘Oh no, what did I say…’

Like you anticipated, he walks closer, backing you up to the railings of the starskiff way. 

“What’s wrong with me being close, hm?” He teases, he’s hovering over you now and you lean further back to create more space between you. “Are you getting shy? Is this why you haven’t been giving me any hugs lately?”

Your head began to spin with how hot your face was getting. The truth was you’ve developed a bit of a crush for your superior. Your caretakers have always told you how attached you were to the general, and that hasn’t really changed until you read your past self’s journal. You wrote a lot about the general, like things he said or memories of older days (with exact journal entry numbers…). Sometimes you wrote descriptions of him with comments sprinkled in and it gave you a larger sense of familiarity beyond Jing Yuan just being your mentor. When you read an entry of a time Jing Yuan flirted (that word was nowhere to be found in the entry, but probably because your past self seemed to lack the recognition prowess for romance. You, who has read countless novels in your spare time, was well-acquainted) with your past self, you had to shut the book and almost threw it from your bed in second-hand embarrassment. 

That was not the only entry to have contained such contents. And for the entire time, your wise past incarnation assumed it was the general’s usual playfulness and your shared closeness. ‘Wise’! What ‘wise’?! How dense could a person possibly be! A man caresses your hair and says sweet words as the sun sets in front of you—how can it be anything but romantic! You had banged your head against your bed frame, going through multiple revelations at once, which alerted Jing Yuan who came into the room and asked ‘is something wrong?’ To which you quickly hid under the covers and shouted ‘nothing!’ as if that was less suspicious than just telling him you read something embarrassing from a novel. 

Anyways, you could never look at the general the same way again. How easy it was to make those memories your own, the way you wrote those entries were very personable. Again, if you were a writer in your past life, you would not be surprised! 

He leaned closely and gently ran his hand through some of my hair. The sun was beginning to set and our tea was cold from our lengthy conversation. It was cooling in the balcony of my flat but with Jing Yuan so close, I could not feel the chill. 

“And yet another day has passed,” he says, clearly referring to the increasing rosiness of the sky. He has not taken his eyes off me. “Many more are to come. But none of them will be as special as those I spend with you. You are more beautiful than any sunset or celestial phenomena.”

I watched curiously as he lifted the lock of hair to his nose and breathed in softly before kissing it. This made me laugh slightly and I waved him off. “Don’t hold me in such high regard, general. If I were to disappear, the rest of your days would become bleak.”

He looked at me seriously, gold irises glinting in the dying light. Somehow, it always manages to freeze me in place. Perhaps because I’m not used to that kind of emotion on him in moments like these. He took my hand and grips it tightly.

He said, “if you disappeared, the sun in my days would never rise again.”

He loved your past self. You don’t know if that sentiment was the same for your other incarnations, but he loved you deeply. When a young girl witnesses such tenderness and intimacy, even secondhand, how can she not develop feelings?! What made it even worse was the biting awareness that the both of you weren’t the same person. Maybe in body, but not in spirit. You seemed so different from her! And it was all because you didn’t start reading the journals early enough. A late bloomer, that’s what you were. Did he still love you the same way? 

“What’s on your mind?” Jing Yuan’s arms trapped you in between them, hands on the rails. “You’re staring so vacantly at me as if you’re thinking about something else.”

That snaps you from the tangled mess of hot wires of your mind. Immediately, you attempt to push him away, glancing nervously at passersby who are beginning to take notice.

“G-general… not here… people are looking…!”

He hums and leans closer, striking gold eyes mere inches away from yours, lips smiling mere fractions away from yours. His white hair falling over your face like a curtain. 

“This won’t do,” he whispers. “I can’t have your attention stolen away from me, can I?”

He takes a hand away from the rails to cup your head, tilting it stiffly so you’re angled to face him properly. ‘A kiss,’ you think dumbly. Was he really going to? Did you want him to? Your mind scrambled to sort the complexities of the situation. Technically, you were younger than him, incredibly so. And you were only fifteen! No matter how you looked at it, this was quite illegal wasn’t it?! You tried so hard to ignore this strange circumstance you found yourself in with the general. If only your past self was smarter about it! That stupid journal!

Just as you begin to feel dizzy and light-headed, Jing Yuan pulls away and pats your shoulder casually. “It’s quite rude for your mind to wander off while having a conversation, try to improve next time,” he says before continuing his stroll, leaving you flushed against the rails.

Upon processing his statement, your cheeks heat up further, no longer from embarrassment, but from anger. 

“As if you don’t do the same! General!” you shout, charging after him with the intent of giving him a good shove. 

Jing Yuan laughs as he accepts your shove, hardly affected. He’s seen enough to ascertain the future of his relationship with this new you—enough to grant him clear foresight. Now all he had to do was play his moves carefully.

In your office, you stare at the poem you were attempting earlier this afternoon. Remembering Jing Yuan turns you red, hastily you scribble down the last line before focusing on the rest of your work.

“Amidst the falling golden light of the Arbor Glowing roots spread across the ship Conflict blooming from its branches, the pale aurora flames.

Where gingko leaves fall and dance in the wind Blood and despair follows Halls of humanity, forgotten in the pride bred from our bones. 

Thus sings our short history Where legends live and never die In heart and in mind.”

[strkyoo]

✦ 彡 OCTOBER PASSED ME BY

pairing ; various fem genshin characters x fem!reader — slight fluff to angst w/ no comfort ! 

warnings ; break-ups?, reader died in some part, a bit of desperation in some part too, light tw on the last part?? (talking abt deaths), gamon (gagal move on/failed to move on) yahaha — wc ; 0.9k

kyo’s note ; awal oktober is like “we fell in love in october” while akhir oktober is “october passed me by”‼️‼️ SO TRUE (im not ok) (i also got lazy at the end u could tell)

〉MASTERLIST〈

i keep the letters that you wrote in a secret place.

when you two were still together, you always bought things that reminded each of you of each other. plush toys, jewelry, matching outfits, and other items. letters are also included—she loves to exchange letters with you, especially when you’re away from each other.

but now, all the things you bought for her are all meaningless. without you by her side anymore, what does these things even mean to her? these things now had no value. the urge to break them and get those things out of her sight is just… too intense. yet, she can’t. she knew your last wish for her was to take care of the things you had bought for her. she hides them in a secret place, sometimes would look at them and gradually think about how these things used to make her smile like a fool. oh, how she missed this feeling— how she missed you.

YOIMIYA, FOCALORS, amber, xiangling, ganyu, KIRARA, LISA, NINGGUANG, keqing.

yeah, i got bitter when you got cold, and could you really blame me though?

you were a sweetheart in her eyes. someone so sweet, soft, kind, gentle. someone who impossibly can do a crime, someone who wouldn’t and won’t break her heart—someone as perfect as an angel.

at least, that’s what she thought before certain things happened between you and her.

here she is—looking at you like someone she utterly despises, despite the fact that she used to swear to the archons that she’ll cherish you and protect you forever. you got bitter from time to time, and she got cold and hurt as a result. well, things changed, right? and she still couldn’t help to miss your subtle smile that always made her forget about the weights around her shoulders.

ARLECCHINO, yelan, RAIDEN EI, shenhe, candice, DEHYA, KUKI SHINOBU.

you know this song is about you, who else could it be?

she wrote a poem about you, about how perfect you are. she sang for you, about how she couldn’t get enough of your love. she takes loads of photos of you, admiring how gorgeous you look from every angle. she would do anything for you. you are the love of her life after all.

but you left her alone. you left her side. words couldn’t express how much this hurt her internally. she couldn’t stop re-reading the poem she wrote about you, she couldn’t stop humming your favorite songs, she couldn’t stop looking at your angelic photos. she couldn’t let you go.

XINGYAN, CHARLOTTE, ayaka, nilou, yun jin, BARBARA.

you were the first to make me feel like i was me.

she never felt any feelings like this when she’s with you. it feels… weird. in a good way. how her eyes softened when she saw you, how her face would heat up, how her heart rate increased, how the mingling and odd ticklish feelings filled her stomach and how the overwhelming feelings slowly destroyed her in the most heavenly way. she can be herself around you, and that’s the only thing she wished to feel once in her life.

but that was the first and last time she would ever have that feeling. she couldn’t feel the same way anymore. she couldn’t love another person in the same way that she loves you. and this was the first and the last time that she would be able to feel love and pain in such a way.

CLORINDE, sucrose, LYNETTE, ROSARIA, eula, mona, KOKOMI, KUJOU SARA, collei, noelle.

i made you my whole world.

she imagined a lovely future for your relationship. she imagined how she’ll wake up right next to you in your shared bed, how she’ll start a lazy morning with you—spending the rest of her life with you by her side.

but fate said otherwise. and it was being really, really cruel. archons above, why would they take you apart from other people? she just can’t imagine a life without you. it’s impossible—it feels like she is losing the sun of her life—the hope of her life. she just wanted you and only you. oh what is she supposed to do without you?

yanfei, LUMINE, faruzan, mona, LAYLA, fischl.

always in the back of my mind, you’ll be my girl.

the combination of all the parts—she did everything and anything for you.

she keeps the things that remind her of you, she wrote poems about how perfect you were for her. you were the first who made her feel like herself—she made you her whole world. you were her everything, her other half… she just couldn’t let you go. she cherishes you dearly, even if death could separate you from her—she would gladly die with you.

NAVIA, YAE MIKO, la signora, jean, BEIDOU, HU TAO.

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated ! ♡ 

— © strkyoo.

[fleur-de-violette]

Robins, titmice, and other spring birds

AO3

Summary:

There are a lot of things Jason doesn’t understand in the dynamic of the Wayne manor, despite being here for nine months. Maybe a rescue turning a little more dangerous than it should have been for Robin will help him see things clearly? Prompt: Adoption

Note:

Hey! Second bingo fic! So just to be clear, this is set in an alternate universe where Jason was taken in by Bruce before Dick stopped being Robin. Warning for (magical) hypothermia, grief, and near-death experience. I hope you’ll enjoy the story. Many thanks to @ohmytoddhewitt for beta reading !

There are things within the Wayne Manor family dynamics that Jason still has a hard time grasping, despite having lived there for about nine months now.

Dick and Bruce’s relationship is one of them. The two of them could look like a typical teenager and adult relationship at first glance (not that Jason knows much about typical teenager and adult relationships), but there is something more.

They are Batman and Robin, for starters. The news had taken him aback. When Batman had brought him to the cave after that weird night that changed his life, and had removed his cowl, Bruce Wayne had been the very last person Jason expected to find under it.

So, they are Batman and Robin. Heroes of Gotham. And yet, out of masks - sometimes even in masks when no one is looking - they act like a teenager and his parent.

Jason will also, one day, become a hero of Gotham. He had started training as soon as he had regained enough weight to do exercise. Maybe he will be Robin. Maybe he will be something else. But he could stay. In the manor.

Bruce had presented him with the adoption papers about a month ago. Something to link them permanently, to make him his son. Jason still doesn’t know how to feel about that. When he had tried to talk about it with Dick, the older teen had made a weird face and deflected the conversation.

But Jason doesn’t feel as if Dick doesn’t want to be his brother. Despite his rocky relationship with Bruce, he’s always nice and friendly with Jason. He just doesn’t understand why he’s been so dismissive of the adoption thing.  

“The fast-food place in front of the academy is looking for staff,” Dick says carefully, pulling Jason from his thoughts as they eat dinner.

Bruce makes a sound, not a word, and that’s also something Jason has learned to get used to. How Bruce rarely responds with actual words.

Dick doesn’t seem to mind. “I was thinking of applying.”

Alfred gives him a disapproving look. His opinion on fast food is a secret to no one.

“Why?” Bruce asks, and that’s a word, but a lone one, straight to the point. Jason is kind of asking himself the same question.

“I was just thinking it was more than time I started making my own money, that’s all.”

Bruce let out a long sigh that makes Jason think maybe it isn’t the first time they have had this conversation.

“You already have enough things to do with your studies and our nightly activities. If you want to buy something, you can ask Alfred or myself for money. You know we have enough in this household.”

And that’s final. Dick doesn’t bother fighting, just goes back to his meal. Alfred tries to keep the conversation going by asking Jason questions about school, and Jason is happy to indulge.

He had started school in September, two months after meeting Bruce. While he was a bit of a late bloomer compared to his classmates in the beginning, he’s been catching up to them during the last few months. Barbara, Dick, and of course Alfred have helped him with homework when he struggled. By now, he was the first to answer in science class more often than not, and his English teacher had complimented him on his poems.   

Alfred asks the same things to Dick. Jason knows he has a big math test tomorrow afternoon, something he studied a lot for in the last few weeks. But he just skims past it, not letting show the importance Jason knows the test has for him.

Jason can guess why. Test or not, Robin is needed tonight, and Jason can understand that Dick would hate being benched over something as silly as needing rest for a test. Especially since Jason had heard the night before that the Riddler had escaped and was planning something. He knew he wouldn’t want to miss a fight with the Riddler if he was Robin.

But he isn’t, not yet; he needs more training first. So, as soon as the dinner is finished, he jumps in the cave and puts on the training costume Alfred had made him. He wishes Batman and Robin good luck, and Dick ruffles his hair in a way that annoys Jason as much as it makes him feel all warm before jumping into the Batmobile.

A few hours in, and Jason wonders how long Dick trained for before being allowed to go out. Surely, he will be able to fly in the streets of Gotham with them soon. He isn’t a trained acrobat, but he handles himself well, he thinks, smiling as a Batarang falls right into the center of the target.

But then, there is the issue of the hero’s name. Batman had said maybe he could be Robin, but then there would be two Robins, and that would be confusing. He needs another name. Something close to Robin, but not Robin. How about Red Robin? He likes Red, but that’s the name of a burger place, so huge no. Dick calls him Little Wing, something that annoys Jason, but maybe he could make something out of it. He would be the Wings of the Night or something, and… no, that’s ridiculous.

Maybe he should pick a totally different bird name? The Eagle - but no, that’s a rock band. Or The Falcon maybe? It does have more style than Robin. But also, Dick had explained to him that the name isn’t meant to scare people, or inspire respect, but to bring hope, to symbolize spring and colors.

Well, he can say anything he wants, Jason isn’t calling himself Titmouse.

“Master Jason, don’t you think it’s time to go to bed?” Alfred interrupts him, standing behind the training mats. This is something that took Jason some time getting used to, too. Being called “Master”; he told Alfred he could just call him Jason, but the butler firmly refused.  

“I would like to wait until they are back,” Jason says. He knows the idea of Bruce and Dick fighting the Riddler will prevent him from sleeping, anyway.

Alfred gives him a frozen smile, the face he makes then things aren’t going the way he wants them to, but he has to accept them anyway. “Very well,” he says. “But I do not want to hear you complain tomorrow morning when you’ll have to get up to go to school.”

Jason gives him his brightest smile. “I won’t complain. Promise. Thank you, Alfred.”

He keeps training for a bit after that, but they don’t have to wait long before they can hear the familiar roar of the Batmobile engine. And just as the car stops, Jason can feel the tension bleeding from it. Bad night, then.

“What do you want from me?” Dick asks as he steps out, soaking wet with a mixture of water and something that glows pale blue in the artificial light of the cave. “That I apologize for saving those girls? I won’t.”

“It was reckless; you could have drowned, and them with you,” Bruce replies in the same tone.

“But I didn’t! You will have to understand one day that I’m not eight anymore, and-”

“Here, Master Dick,” Alfred interrupts, giving him a towel. “It is quite cold in the cave.” He doesn’t say that it’s quite cold outside of it, too, but everyone is thinking it. “And Master Bruce, why don’t you go change while I take care of warming him up.”

His eyes are like daggers, and Bruce doesn’t talk back, even though Jason feels that he wants to. He just walks toward the changing rooms. When he passes next to Jason, he looks at him for a second before saying, “Jason. You should be in bed.”

He sounds tired, but Jason still has one more thing to do before going to bed. He runs quickly to where Dick and Alfred are and asks, “Are you really ok? Is there something I can do?”

“Nothing beside getting yourself to bed,” Alfred replies. “I’ll just make sure Master Dick here is not hypothermic or poisoned.”

Dick gives him a smile that Robin gives to citizens. It’s bright, reassuring, and fake. “I’m ok, Little Wing. See you tomorrow morning.”

So, with nothing better to do, Jason goes to his room, showers, changes, and goes to bed. Despite thinking that worry will keep him awake, he’s out cold before he can think more about the night.

-

He doesn’t complain the next morning when Alfred wakes him up. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He promised, after all.

Instead, he gets himself dressed and goes down to get breakfast. Dick is already at the table when he comes in. “Good morning,” he says as Jason sits down, and his voice cracks a little on the words.

“What happened to your voice?” Jason asks as he takes some tea and a piece of toast, thanking Alfred.

“I slept with my hair wet yesterday. It’s nothing. It will pass.”

Jason hums. The manor is warmer than some of the places he lived in, but it’s still old and there is only so much isulation work one can do on a stone structure. It can get cold on February nights.

Alfred looks like he wants to say something more, maybe a comment on how this wouldn’t happen if Dick had shorter hair. It goes down his neck, nearing his shoulders now, and he stubbornly refuses to cut it. This has been one more cause of disagreement in the manor.

But he refrains from saying anything, and just drives them to the school without a word.

-

Jason goes through his morning classes as usual, trying not to fall asleep during the boring parts of the lessons. It’s only when he’s at his locker to get his lunch that everything goes wrong.

“Hey, street rat!”

He turns to see Augustus Wright. He sighs. Turns out there’s only so much anti-bullying presentations can do, and so much here means nothing. The boy is in his grade, a bit tall for his age, and had chosen him as his victim since the beginning of the school year. 

“What do you want?” he asks sharply. He doesn’t call him “September” like he did last time, because he’d rather not get punched in the face again.

“Do you know what my father says about you?”

Jason doesn’t look at him, and focuses on getting his lunch out of the locker instead. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Your father is an idiot who has an addiction to bad financial investments.” Or at least that’s what Bruce says. But he has the feeling the comment will not help him in his quest of not getting punched in the face.

As expected, Augustus’ hand flies toward him. But he doesn’t hit Jason, like he had expected him to. Instead, he hits the lunch box, and to Jason’s dismay, it flies out of his hands and falls down on the floor, the content of Alfred’s carefully prepared food spilling everywhere.

This is spoiled food. The one thing Jason can’t stand.

He clenches his fist. Bruce might be angry at him later, but that won’t stop him. That kid is going to regret it.

“What’s going on here?”

Jason turns toward the sounds, only to see Dick leaning nonchalantly on the lockers. His voice is deeper and lower than usual, so much that Jason barely recognizes it. It makes him look even more impressive, cold and collected.

Augustus seems a bit scared, which makes Jason smile. He might be taller than Jason, but Dick is taller and stronger than both of them. “You’re not supposed to be outside the high school building,” the bully says.

“Yeah?” Dick asks. “And what do you want to do? Call someone? And then you can explain why my-” his voice cracks a little - “little brother’s lunch is on the floor?”

Augustus looks like he wants to sink into the floor. “He’s not your real brother anyway. My father will hear about this!”

Dick tilts his head. “So he can talk about it with Bruce? I would like to see that.” He takes Jason’s arm. “We’re leaving,” he says, and they walk a little before conveniently running into the school janitor, who is talking with the superintendent. Did Dick plan that? “Excuse me, sirs?” he says, “Augustus seems to have made a mess in the corridor, would it be possible to help him find the materials required to clean it up?”

He gives them his best smile, the one that gets people doing whatever he wants, and with that, they’re gone. Because he has that kind of power, the superintendent doesn’t even question why he was in the middle school building.

“I had it handled,” Jason says when they’re out of hearing range, in a small corridor that runs between the two buildings.

“What, you were gonna beat up that kid?”

Jason doesn’t answer that.

“Jay, you know why Bruce trains us. It’s not for-” he coughs in his hand when his voice cracks again, and starts over. “It’s not for this.”

“He tossed my lunch to the ground,” Jason objects.

“I know,” Dick says as they sit down. “Do you want mine?”

“What about you?”

“I’m not that hungry,” Dick replies, handing him his lunch box. Jason opens it and splits the food in two, but true to his word, Dick barely eats his share.

“What, is the math stuff stressing you out that much?”

Dick shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. Jason doesn’t understand why it would be. Dick had always been excellent at math; he and Barbara have helped him more than once and Jason knows for a fact that Dick can do college level problems without struggling. He’s always at the top of his classes, if not the top of the school. The only thing he can maybe be worried about is being the second best and not the best, which seems like overkill.

Unless he’s aiming for a scholarship, like the one Barbara has. But that makes no sense. While the Gordons aren’t exactly poor, having her studies fully funded because she was at the top of the school in several subjects still makes things way easier for them. But he doesn’t get why Dick would need it: Bruce would gladly pay for whatever college Dick wants to go to.     

“Or maybe you’re actually getting sick,” Jason says. “What even happened last night?”

 Dick sighs and looks around to make sure no one can hear them; his voice barely audible, he says “Riddler had two girls in glass containers under a pool of some sort. There was something in the water, a chemical we think he got from Freeze - we still don’t know how. Anyway, a powder was slowly falling into a bowl that would pour it into the water once full. Then the two products would react, and the water would freeze, breaking the glass container with the increased pressure and killing or at least badly injuring the girls. B wouldn’t have solved the riddle in time. There was only a small opening on the pool, just for the powder to go in, Batman couldn’t fit; but I could. And so could the girls once I freed them.”

Jason doesn’t miss a word. “That is so cool,” he says.

“Well, B didn’t seem to think so. But yeah, I stand by my choices.” He coughs into his fist again. “Even if if I do end up being sick, B will never let me hear the end of it.”

Jason smiles a little at that. There is something nagging in the back of his mind - how easily a cold could turn into something worse when he was on the streets - but he doesn’t say it. Dick is talking about this so nonchalantly, he guesses this is how things happen in Wayne Manor: you get sick, you rest for a few days, and that’s it.

Dick looks at his phone and says, “Well, time for me to go, I guess. I need to do some last minute studying.”

Jason sighs. “What do you still have to learn? And what about your food?”

“Keep it,” Dick says. And with that, he’s gone.

-

Jason is in the middle of his biology class when he opens his phone under the desk to see two missed calls from Bruce.

“What’s going on?” he texts back. “I can’t answer a call, I’m in class.”

He immediately sees Bruce typing back, “Have you seen Dick?”

“Just about one hour ago, at lunch. Why?”

“Find him and get him back to the manor. Alfred is on his way to pick you up.”

No more information than that. But, given what Bruce and Dick do, this might be a life or death situation. Jason raises his hand.

“Excuse me,” he says. “I don’t feel well, could I go to the infirmary?”

The teacher gives him a suspicious look before saying. “Of course. Joshua, go walk him.”

When he leaves, he hears Augustus laugh a little, but that is the last thing on his mind. Joshua is a small kid with round glasses. He’s friendly to Jason because Jason took his place as Augustus’ favorite target. He’s been less friendly to him since Jason’s grades have started to threaten to take his place as best student in the class. But right now, he’s content with just walking with him in silence to the infirmary. 

For a second, Jason thinks he could run. Joshua has asthma, he would never catch up to him. But then, how would he explain that? People would be looking for him, and that would be a mess. No, he has to be more subtle. He waits until they reach the infirmary and Joshua goes back to class. Then, he politely asks the nurse if he could rest a bit in one of the beds. Again, he gets a suspicious look for his trouble, but he lets him lay on a bed.

He waits a little, just long enough so he can see the nurse on his phone, not paying attention to him, before getting up and silently making his way out of the infirmary. Step one of his plan is a success.

Jason walks into the high school building, fast and silent. He moves into another corridor whenever he hears someone coming his way. He knows which room Dick is supposed to be taking his math test in as of now. If he’s not here after all he said about this, Jason is going to kick his ass.

But, thankfully, Dick is in the room when Jason looks through the window. He’s focused on the sheet in front of him. When he sees him raise his head, Jason makes huge signs through the window. He distinctly sees Dick mouth, “What the fuck?” before the older teen gets up, says something to the teacher, and leaves the room.

“This had better be important,” he says as soon as he sees Jason. If anything, his voice is worse than it was in the morning. 

“I guess it is, or else Bruce wouldn’t have asked me to come get you. Alfred is waiting for us outside. Come on, let’s go.”

He takes Dick’s wrist to lead him out of the school, and is immediately taken aback by the fact that there seems to be is no heat radiating off his skin.

“You’re cold!” he exclaims.

“What can I say? It’s cold out. We’re not here to talk about my shitty circulation,” Dick replies, twisting his wrist out of Jason’s hand as he walks next to him.

“Alfred,” Dick says as soon as they see the butler outside. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know anymore than you do,” Alfred replies. “I got a call from Master Bruce asking me to come and pick you up while he was getting back to the manor by his own means. Are you quite alright, Master Dick? You look-”

“I’m fine, Alfred,” Dick says as he sits in the back seat. Jason takes it as his clue to sit in the front, next to Alfred.

The short drive from the school to the manor is silent. When he looks in the rear-view mirror, Jason can see Dick has his arms around himself, and his eyes closed. He must be really upset at the interruption of his test. Not that Jason can blame him, but he’s sure Bruce has a good reason to call them back.

“What is this about?” Dick asks as soon as they walk in the manor. From where he’s standing behind him, Jason can see his shoulders shaking with rage.

“The two girls you saved yesterday were hospitalized this morning. We think the compounds all three of you have been in contact with is the cause.”

Whatever Jason had been expecting, that wasn’t it. Apparently, the same goes for Dick because he just croaks, “What?”

“Apparently, it can be absorbed into the skin, slowly decreasing the body’s temperature. Have you felt any symptoms that make you think of that?”

Jason holds a breath. Dick’s wrist had been cold to the touch, earlier. And he’s not shaking with rage, Jason realizes. He’s shivering.   

“I… I guess I’ve been cold, but nothing-” his voice breaks toward the end of the sentence and he coughs loudly.

“Dick,” Bruce asks slowly. “Did you swallow some of that water?”

Dick nods, his eyes toward the floor. “Just after saving the second girl, there wasn’t time to get both of us out before my air ran out. But I didn’t drown. I spat that water out almost immediately.”

There is a second of silence, where Jason thinks maybe Bruce is going to yell, before Dick asks in a very small voice, “These girls… they are in the hospital because of me, no need to sugarcoat it. Are they going to be okay?”

“They will,” Batman, not Bruce, says as he takes Dick’s arm. “And so will you.” 

Jason follows them anxiously to the living room, where Alfred is already waiting for them. Jason hadn’t even realized he left. “I saw your instructions regarding the care currently given to the two young ladies. There is nothing being done for them at Gotham General that we can’t do here,” he says to Bruce.

Sure enough, the couch has several blankets and heat packs, and Jason can hear tea being made in the kitchen. There is also an IV pole.

“Isn’t that overkill?” Dick asks. “I told you, I feel cold, but nothing too bad, I can-”

“The girls are physically smaller than you, but you were exposed for longer, not to mention you had some of the product in your throat,” says Bruce, not leaving room for protest.

“We just don’t want severe hypothermia to set in,” Alfred explains gently. “It’s better to start administering warm fluids now than to take any risks.”  

Dick lets out a long-suffering sigh as he falls onto the couch, pushing his sleeve up and presenting his arm, a silent agreement to the IV. Alfred gets to work; without any other word, Bruce leaves the room.

Once they’re both gone, Jason slowly moves next to Dick on the couch. The older teen is still shivering, but he’s stubbornly on top of the covers.

“I’m sorry about the math test. I know it was important to you,” Jason says tentatively.

Dick doesn’t reply, just gives him a look. “If it helps,” Jason continues, “you’ve been having great grades all year and you will continue to do so. I’m sure this won’t stop you from getting the scholarship if that’s what you’re after.”

Dick blinks. “Thanks, Little Wing,” he says slowly. “It was stupid anyway.”

He doesn’t elaborate more than that.

After a while, Jason asks, “Do you want to watch TV or something?”

“You don’t have to stay,” is the answer he gets for his troubles.

“Yeah, but I want to. And we’re watching something,” Jason decides, taking the remote and turning on a crime show. When he turns back to Dick a few episodes in, he finds him completely rolled in the blankets and still shivering, cold apparently having won over stubbornness.

“I’m okay,” Dick tells him, his voice not much more than an airy murmur. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Jason quickly looks away, unaware he was looking at him in a certain way.

“I don’t-” Dick coughs. “I don’t regret it. We don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t saved them,” he says.

Jason doesn’t say anything to that. “I hope they will be okay,” Dick adds.

Jason nods. “Yeah.” He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like Dick who is cool and who saves him from bullies and who is Robin being reduced to a shivering mess, curled up under the covers despite the fact that the heat packs are enough to make Jason hot from the other side of the couch.

There is a knock on the door – a useless measure, the door is always open – and Bruce comes in, something in his hands.

“Alfred made soup,” he says, carefully. “If you want some.”

Dick doesn’t move from where he’s buried under the covers, doesn’t look at Bruce. “I’m not really hungry,” he says through chattering teeth. And when Bruce doesn’t seem satisfied with that, he adds, “I ate well for lunch.”

“No, you didn’t,” Jason interrupts.

If looks could kill, the one that Dick shoots him would have sent him straight to the grave.

Bruce puts the bowl on the coffee table and squats down. “I know you’re not hungry. But your body is fighting an unknown, and you have to get all the strength and warmth you can have. Can you at least try?”

Dick still doesn’t look at him. “I don’t think I can eat,” he says.

Bruce tilts his head. “Nausea?”

Dick shakes his head. “No, I…” he gets one of his hands from below the blanket. His shaking fingers are pale and barely twitch. “I don’t think I can eat,” he repeats before pulling his hand back under the covers.

Bruce’s expression breaks in a way Jason hadn’t seen before. It’s not pity, or even worry, though there is some worry in there. It’s just utter sadness. “Chum-” he starts.

“I can help,” Jason interrupts again. “I can help you. I won’t make it awkward. I promise.”

He did it several times with his mother, when she couldn’t lift her hands or was shaking too much to hold a spoon. “I can help,” he repeats. He’s been feeling so useless since this whole thing started. He can do this.

“Ok,” Bruce says slowly. “Ok, Jaylad, I trust you.” And with that, he’s gone. He’s not good with seeing someone in pain or weakened. Jason had noticed how Bruce wouldn’t look at him when he removed his shirt for medical exams, in the weeks after he’d been brought to the manor.

Jason sits on the table and takes the soup in his hands. “Okay,” he says. “How do you want to do it?”

Dick closes his eyes slowly. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

“I kinda do. Since you can’t hold the spoon.” When he sees Dick’s face, he adds, “I’m not judging you, or seeing you any differently because of this. I just want this dinner to happen the best way possible for both of us.”

Dick opens his eyes. “You’re right. We can do this like you want.”

Jason nods. He slowly puts a bit of soup in the spoon and moves it toward Dick’s face, making sure the oldest sees all his movements. When he reaches his mouth, he makes sure to be as gentle as possible. Dick, to his relief, doesn’t say anything and just lets him feed him. It’s only when the soup is about half finished that he mutters, “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Thank you, then.”

“Yeah, that you can say.”

“Thank you, Jason. You’re a good kid.”

You’re a good kid. How many times had he heard this from his mother? Thank you, Jason, you’re a good kid. I don’t deserve you, Jason. I’m sorry, Jason.

He would never hear it again. He would never feed her like this and, as terrible as it was, he finds himself wishing he could. He wants to forget about that one morning where he woke up to find her cold, colder than Dick currently is, and pretends he’s still taking care of her.

An icy cold finger gently goes to wipe his face, removing a tear he didn’t know was there.

“What’s going on, Little Wing?”

Jason wipes his eyes quickly. He’s the one who should be taking care of Dick, not the other way around. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Dick tilts his head, keeping his mouth stubbornly shut when Jason tries to feed him more soup. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I miss my mom, that’s all,” he says honestly.

Dick hums in understanding. “I miss mine too, a lot. I miss both my parents. Especially in times like this.” He looks everywhere but at Jason when he says, “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if they were still there. If I was still at the circus with them.”

Jason hums. “Being with Bruce is probably better for me,” he says, because objectively, it is. Unlike Dick, and unlike most people he sees at school, Jason never had a proper childhood. He doesn’t even remember a time when he didn’t feel like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.    

“Probably,” Dick says. “I’m sorry, Jason.”

“I told you; you have nothing to apologize for.”

“We should have found you sooner.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not the only Crime Alley kid in need of saving, and no matter how much Batman and Robin try, they can’t save everyone.

“It’s okay,” Jason says. “You found me.”

Dick closes his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “Bruce did.”

They don’t talk much more after that. Alfred brings dinner for Jason, smiling in approval when he retrieves the empty soup bowl. They watch some more TV, only interrupted by the regular sound of Dick coughing, and Jason can feel himself falling asleep when Bruce enters the room again.

“I have a lead on where the Riddler could have gotten the compound,” he says without so much of a hello. “I’m going there tonight, to find more about it, and hopefully a cure. We’re going to save the girls, and we’re going to save you.”

Dick makes a sound of approval from where he’s even more buried under the covers. It’s clear that he’s not in any state to be Robin tonight.

“I can help,” Jason says, standing quickly. “I can help you. I’ve been training, I could be Robin!”

“No,” Bruce says, and that’s final. “I am not endangering you. Stay here with Dick.”

“I’m okay,” Dick says, still not moving, and definitely not okay. “He’s right, you shouldn’t be alone. Jason is capable, and-”

“No,” Bruce repeats. Before Jason or Dick can add anything else, he’s gone.

“Alfred is on the comms,” Jason says, both for Dick and for himself. “He will call me if I’m needed.” To be honest, he’s not really ready to leave Dick alone while Bruce, Alfred and probably Barbara are racing to find a cure. He still feels like everything can go south so fast. And to think just a few hours before they were joking over lunch.  

“He’s going to find something,” Jason adds. “And you will be better in no time.”

Dick doesn’t say anything.

And so, they wait. Jason puts the TV back on, but Dick isn’t really watching anymore, completely curled up on himself around the heat packs. Jason feels himself getting lulled to sleep, and Alfred is too busy to tell him to go to his actual bed. So, he lets himself drift on the couch.

-

Jason wakes up to a sound he doesn’t recognize and what feels like a block of ice hitting his shoulder. He blinks and turns toward Dick.

He immediately feels blood rushing to his body, pumping into his ears. Dick’s face is ashy gray, his lips turning blue. But it’s the sound that comes from him that freezes Jason in fear. He’d only heard one person breathe like this; an older homeless man who had developed pneumonia. Things didn’t end well for him.

Dick’s lips move to form the word help but no sound comes out of his mouth. He coughs, and something falls down his chin. It’s not blood, but it’s not spit either.

It’s ice, Jason realizes with horror. Thankfully, it melts quickly, but Dick is coughing up ice.

That, more than anything else, gets Jason to move. He jumps on his feet and runs toward the cave. He doesn’t have any breath left to explain the situation to Alfred, but the old man seems to understand, hurrying upstairs with him. Dick is still in the same state when they reach the living room, and Jason blindly follows the orders Alfred gives him, knowing he probably won’t remember much of it later. Together, they get a portable oxygen machine to push warm air into Dick’s lungs, hoping it will ease his breathing.

Dick is looking at them with wide eyes the entire time, but, thankfully, he seems to relax a few minutes after they put on the mask.

“Take care of him, Master Jason,” Alfred says. “Master Bruce should be back shortly.”

So, Jason stays there and watches Dick like a hawk. But eventually, as Dick is resting, his breathing once again regular, he finds himself pulled once more into unconsciousness.

-

“B?”

Jason wakes up with a start. Dick is awake, his eyes big as he calls.

“B?”

Jason quickly moves next to him. “He’s not here. He’s looking for a cure.”

Dick blinks, like he doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Maybe he doesn’t, Jason thinks. He’s suffering from severe hypothermia and breathing difficulties. Jason wouldn’t be surprised if he was confused or delirious.

“He’s not here?�� he asks, a little sad.

“No, but not because he doesn’t want to be.” To be fair, Jason isn’t sure if Bruce would want to be here, but he decides to humor Dick. “He’s trying to save you. He can’t lose you.”

There is something strange that passes into Dick’s eyes, something that reminds Jason of that day one month ago when they talked about the adoption, something that is not confused at all, and he says, “He can. He will.”

Jason feels very cold, like he’s the one who’s been in contact with the dangerous chemical. “No,” he says. “He will be back, he’s going to save you, and-”

“In a month,” Dick continues. “I will turn eighteen. And I will be no one to Bruce.”

Jason blinks. This wasn’t about giving up, then. “What are you talking about?” he asks. What does turning eighteen have to do with all of that?

“Foster care ends at eighteen.”

And suddenly, everything makes sense. Dick’s behavior around the adoption papers. Working at the fast-food place. The scholarship.

“You’re not adopted.” It’s not a question. And Dick just thinks Bruce is going to give him up after he turns eighteen? “Why?”

Dick doesn’t look at him. “I don’t know,” he says, and Jason doesn’t push it.

“But even then,” Jason argues. “You’re much more to him than his foster kid.” Has Dick not seen the way Bruce looks at him? Has he not heard the way he talks about him to Jason? Has he not seen him breaking in front of his suffering, earlier? “You’re Batman and Robin,” Jason says, a desperate attempt to make sense of what he wants to say.

Dick let out a small laugh, a sad, quiet sound. “Not for much longer. He will find another, better Robin.”

“What?” Jason’s voice breaks a little. That doesn’t make any sense. “No, that’s not-”

“You said it yourself. You can be Robin.”

Jason’s hands instinctively go to cover his mouth, letting out a choked sound. He said it, but he didn’t think it would have such an impact on Dick. He didn’t mean it in a way that meant he could be a better Robin, just that he’d been training to help them in the fight.

“No, no. No, I don’t-”

“I know,” Dick says. “You’re a good kid,” and there are these words again, Jason is a good kid. He’s a good kid, but he’d been unable to save his mom. He’s a good kid, but he’s been unable to not hurt Dick with his careless words. “I couldn’t hate you if I tried. And that’s the thing: it would have been so much easier if I could just hate you and think everything is your fault. But you really don’t like to make things easy, do you?”

He stops a bit, to take his breath, and Jason doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to make things better. He doesn’t know how to make Dick see how much Bruce loves him, and he just recalls how many times Bruce had told him how proud he was of Dick, yet all he ever heard between Dick and Bruce is technical talk or arguments.

“It’s okay, Little Wing.” And Jason wants to scream, because nothing is okay. “Don’t cry.” Jason wants to reply that he’s not crying, but he’s not sure about that. “I understand. You will be a good Robin. And you will be a good son. You deserve it.”

Jason wants to yell, he wants to say that there is no such thing as deserving to be a son or deserving to be a parent, it’s either something that you are or aren’t, and that a lot of people, people like Augustus Wright, probably think his mother didn’t deserve to be a parent and maybe she doesn’t but she was there. She was there. But what comes out of his mouth is, “I don’t have to be Robin. I don’t want to be Robin if I have to become Robin like this. I can be something else! I can be Titmouse.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Titmouse?”

“I… whatever!” Jason angrily wipes his eyes and turns out he is crying. “I can be another spring bird! I can bring warmth to Gotham’s winter.”

Dick smiles, and it doesn’t fully reach his eyes, but it’s something. “I would like some of that warmth, if that’s not asking for too much,” he says. “I’m so cold.” One of his hands sluggishly goes on Jason’s face, removing a tear. Despite himself, Jason shivers at the contact, but he doesn’t move away.

“I can-” he says. “I will-”

“I know,” Dick replies to what hadn’t been spoken. “You’re a good kid,” he repeats, and Jason lets out a sob. “Even if it was a lie, I’ve been happy to call you my brother.”

The hand that had been on Jason’s face falls back on the couch, and Dick’s eyes slowly flutter shut. Jason’s heart misses a bit. “No.” He moves so he’s practically on top of Dick. “No, no no no. Don’t fall asleep.” He can’t handle this. Not again. And even if Dick was right and Bruce was ready to lose him, Jason really, really isn’t. “Don’t leave me alone. Please don’t leave me alone.” He’s whining, he knows he’s whining, but he can’t help it. He’s never been a child, but the last nine months had been the closest thing he had to a childhood. So now, he feels like a child, and a child is whining. “Don’t leave me alone.” Is he really that powerless? Is there really so little he can do to keep what he loves?

A hand moves him, takes him away from Dick, and he wants to fight, but his limbs feel like jelly, and he watches in a dazed state as Bruce introduces something into Dick’s IV line.

And then, as Bruce moves his hands away from the IV to discard the syringe, everything that just happened washes over him. How Dick thought Bruce was ready to leave him. How these kinds of feelings aren’t born overnight. How he never heard Bruce tell Dick anything nice, and that probably means he hadn’t said any at all during the last nine months, probably more. It rushes over him, and he needs to do something about it.

And, like that night in Crime Alley nine months ago, his first reflex is to lash out.

“It’s your fault!” he screams, punching Bruce. His fists aren’t hurting him, he doesn’t even put any strength on them. “It’s your fault!” he repeats, and he melts into Bruce’s arms when Bruce holds him. “I know,” he says, and Jason blinks because how could he possibly know? “I just didn’t know what else to do. I won’t force you to be Robin if you don’t want to.”

And he just moves away from the couch, leaving Jason on the floor to ask himself what on earth was he talking about?

“Master Jason,” Jason blinks and Alfred is here. He apparently did some arrangements around Dick, and Jason lost some time. “I think it’s time for you to rest in a real bed.”

Jason blinks again. He wants to protest, but he’s bone tired. “I’m not leaving Dick,” he says.

“Very well,” Alfred says, and he makes a sign to Bruce to carry Dick to his room.

As they make their way upstairs, Jason almost regrets his lashing out. Because Bruce is so careful, so loving, so fatherly with Dick that there is no doubt about his feelings. But then, why the adoption thing? Why did he offer Jason, but not Dick?

That’s a question for tomorrow morning, he thinks as he falls into the bed. For now, Dick is safe, saved by Batman, and he can fall asleep knowing he will still have time to untangle everything that just happened later.

-

Jason wakes up next to a furnace. He checks the heat packs, only to find them long cold. The heat produced in the bed isn’t anything artificial. He turns toward Dick, who is still asleep, and the heat the older boy radiates is a nice change from everything that happened the night before. Though, Jason thinks as he studies Dick’s flushed face and his labored breathing, maybe that’s even too much heat.  

Jason quickly gets out of the bed, and dashes toward the corridor. He stumbles upon Bruce, who is walking quickly toward the room.

“I just got news from the hospital-” Bruce starts.

“Let me guess, the girls had an immune response to the cure?” Jason finishes for him and Bruce nods.

With Alfred, all three of them move into Dick’s room, who blinks and groans when he sees them, apparently waking up. Bloodshot blue eyes land on Jason, and he feels like he’s under a microscope.

“You’re okay?” is the first thing he asks Jason, and Jason nods. He wonders if Dick remembers the last night, or if he’s just asking this out of habit. He takes the safer route. “Yes. You’re not contagious, it’s an effect from the cure.”

Dick blinks again, and Alfred hands him a glass of water with a pill that he looks at for a few seconds before asking, “The cure?” And then, as if everything comes back to him, he turns toward Bruce and asks, “Are the girls okay?”

Bruce sighs. “More or less like you, except for the fact that they didn’t go into respiratory distress.” Dick looks away in shame at that. “There is no way to tell for sure, since this is very experimental, but the doctors expect the fever to last a few days, and then break on its own.”  

Dick finally takes the pill and some of the water Alfred gave him before falling back into the bed. “Okay,” he says. “Good.”

Bruce looks like he wants to add something more, but Alfred clears his throat. “You should probably sleep it off then, Master Dick,” he says, but it’s clear he’s talking more to Bruce than to Dick.

Bruce seems to accept that now is not the time to talk and puts one of his hands on Jason’s shoulder. “Come on, Jaylad. Let’s give him space.”

Just before leaving, Jason takes a step toward Dick’s bed and kneels down. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, both because it’s true and because no one else said it.

Then, he follows Bruce and Alfred to the living room. Alfred had cleaned up all traces of the night Jason and Dick spent on the couch and even prepared dinner. Jason wonders how he does all that. Alfred, he decides, is probably not human. That is the best explanation.

“B,” Jason starts once Alfred is out of hearing range, probably going up to try to get some food into Dick. “What I said yesterday-”

“No, you were right. I brought you into this life, but that doesn’t mean you have to be part of it. When I first took Dick in, he was angry and reckless. He would go out every night on his own. At that time, we created Robin. It was the best thing both him and I could find. But,” Bruce’s fingers tighten on his fork as he eats, “that was naïve and reckless on my end to think I could keep him safe out there. What you saw yesterday… It wasn’t the first time something like this happened. Dick knows it, and he made his choices. Still, Robin isn’t suiting him anymore, and he doesn’t want to keep working in the way we currently do. This is why, when you showed interest in vigilantism, I offered you to be Robin. But, if with after what you saw yesterday you don’t want to do this anymore, I can understand. You can keep training for self-defense, and you will always have a home in this house.”

Jason has to keep himself from murmuring a “Whoa.” This is the first time he heard Bruce talk that much since the speech he had when he arrived, he thinks. But there are several things that bothers him with what had just been said.

“No, I… I want to help. I know it’s dangerous, and I know danger. But these girls, they wouldn’t have been saved without Dick, would they?”

Bruce stays silent for a moment, not looking at Jason. “I don’t know,” he finally says.

“Okay.” Jason doesn’t push. “Okay.”

“But,” Bruce continues, “there have been situations where he undeniably saved people, so I guess your point still stands. Though, if you don’t want to-”

“You said Robin didn’t suit Dick anymore,” Jason cuts him, not wanting to go back on his involvement, fearful Bruce would change his mind about letting him go with them. “Did he tell you that?” Because this doesn’t make sense at all, given the conversation he had with Dick last night.  

“No,” Bruce says, “He didn’t need to. His behavior has made it clear he needs a change, even if he might not see it yet.”

Jason blinks. Well, that was… a very Bruce thing to think. He doesn’t ask about the adoption thing. Part of him wants to ask, wants to know what made the difference between him and Dick, but part of him is afraid Bruce will backtrack if he asks too many questions, like he almost did for vigilantism.

Neither Bruce nor Alfred had said anything about school, so Jason assumes he’s allowed to skip today. He’s glad. He doesn’t hate school, but he doesn’t think he can handle it today, especially if Augustus or his friends start to pick on him. Especially without Dick. When he goes to see the older teen, he finds that Alfred had closed the door. The butler tells him to let Dick rest for now.

So, here Jason is. Not really knowing what to do and still full of adrenaline. He offers Alfred some help with the housework but, as usual, the old man firmly pushes him off after a few tasks. Bruce takes his computer and starts working on something in the living room, so he takes it as his clue to get a book and read.  

They stay like this for a while, all three of them in silence. Jason regularly raises his head toward either Bruce or Alfred, and sometimes toward the stairs to check if he hears anything from Dick. But he’s totally absorbed into his reading when he hears, “What time is it?”

Jason raises his head quickly, not having heard Dick going down the stairs. It looks like the Robin stealth isn’t hindered by a fever.

Bruce, as expected, isn’t phased by the sudden apparition. “We’re just before midday,” he says, without even looking up from the thing he’s working on.

“I need to go to class,” Dick says and that has Bruce look up in an exasperated way. Jason is also kinda exasperated; he was hoping Dick wouldn’t remind Bruce and Alfred about school.

 “I think not,” Alfred says, turning back sharply from whatever he’s doing. “You are still feverish, and, I would think, exhausted from the ordeal your body went through just last night. Go sit on that couch with Master Jason while I go fetch some lunch for the lot of you.”

Dick looks like he wants to argue, but he knows Alfred is right, and there is no way to argue with him anyway. So, instead, he just sighs, thanks him, and goes sit next to Jason.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks.

Dick looks steadily in front of him. “Yeah,” he says.

“You’re an excellent student, missing a day or two won’t hurt your grades.”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s not as if you could follow class properly with a fever anyway.”

Dick turns toward him. “You’re probably right,” he says. And then he smiles. “Looks like you gave me a bit too much warmth, right, spring bird?”

Jason immediately feels his cheeks heating up. “So, you remember what happened last night?”

Dick turns back to look at the wall. “Yes. Look, I was… I wasn’t in my normal state. What I said-”

“No, you were right. I mean, I’m glad you said it. I still want to help, but it doesn’t have to be by being Robin. I can be something else.”  

Dick turns back to him with a smirk. “Titmouse?” he asks and his voice is still not back to normal but the gentle teasing heals something inside Jason’s heart he didn’t know needed healing.

“Shut up,” he says.

They stay in silence for a while before Jason dares ask, “Do you want to be adopted.”

Dick let out a long breath that makes Jason wish he hadn’t asked before saying “I don’t know.”

Jason doesn’t push it. He doesn’t know how to respond to that, anyways. After a time, Dick talks again. “But what I said is true. For however long it lasts, I’m proud to call you my brother.” His knuckles move to hit Jason’s head gently. “And if it’s still your choice, I would be happy to be your partner in the streets of Gotham.” 

[amalgamgooze]

seven years of waiting come to an end

Hey everybody. So today is the day of the eclipse...

or it would be, if I were writing this post today.

I'm instead writing this post yesterday because I don't know if I'll get home in time to write about actually watching the eclipse, so...

I'll probably write a super cool poem for my next post.

But today's post is better spent talking about how today's eclipse is personally significant.

...

In a more innocent time,

back in the distant year of 2017,

My mother took my brother and me to watch the August 21 eclipse at an outlet mall. With our eclipse glasses and fact sheets in tow, we sat at a bench just outside the bustling plaza to gaze up at the sky.

Of course, I wasn't fortunate enough to live anywhere near the path of totality, so we only witnessed a partial eclipse. The world grew a little darker, and a bite was missing from the once-circular sun we saw through the filtered cardboard glasses.

I still thought it was pretty cool.

Of course, in the aftermath of the eclipse, we discussed the next one we might want to go watch. This eclipse's path of totality was much closer to where we lived, so we'd be able to go watch this one in person. The only problem, however, was that it was so far off in the future.

April 8, 2024. We'd set our sights.

At the time, I was only just entering sixth grade. Though the upcoming eclipse was exciting, it was also so distant, and there were a bazillion more pressing events at the time. The eclipse would only be happening in my last year of high school, and I wasn't even a lowly sixth grader yet! Regardless, the 2024 eclipse was still something that'd stayed in the back of my mind at all times.

...

Now,

almost seven years later,

with a bazillion events behind me

and a million more unexpected ones

the eclipse is finally here.

It goes without saying that I'm a different person than I was seven years ago.

It would be insane to stay the same through all of it.

Middle school and high school,

a struggle to find friends and companionship,

the deaths of close family members,

years of just being generally nervous,

...

and of course, a global pandemic!

...

and a trillion nights spent staring up at the stars

and a few lunar eclipses too.

(lunar eclipses are pretty cool too! you might know them as "blood moons"!)

...

Today, I've found friends I'm happy with, as well as just feeling better about life in general, even if I still have my low moments.

That's just a few things that have changed.

But one thing that's held constant through it all was the anticipation for the April 2024 eclipse.

...

And now, instead of almost seven years between now and the eclipse, it's not even 24 hours anymore.

It's weird and exhilarating.

Sitting here right now, the past seven years feel like a blur.

That's not how they were, but there's an immense amount of solace in knowing there's no more difficult times or hard days left in the seven-year wait.

...

At times, I didn't even know if I'd live to see this eclipse.

Other times, the hopes of seeing this eclipse were evidence in a personally-bound argument as to why I should keep pushing on through the tough times.

...

But now is a more hopeful era.

I don't feel as if I need the promise of some astronomical event to help me see it through one more day/week anymore. I've found my own personal source of motivation now.

...

But even then, the eclipse has to have been the longest wait I've endured, and will likely ever endure too. (Sure, there's me getting out of grade school, but that's different.)

After the eclipse, I'll only have a few more clearly marked dates-I've-been-waiting-forever-for. These include my graduation from high school and the day I leave for college.

Beyond that, I have no more dates to look forward to.

It will just be me for the rest of eternity,

hopefully hacking away at personal projects

with a new type of anticipation,

not the type for some well-defined calendar date,

but instead, the anticipation for the day when I finally share my projects with the world.

...

But that's so far off into the future.

Who knows if I'll even feel like making the projects I want to make anymore once I'm that old?

For now, however,

I think I'm just going to relax,

and watch the eclipse I've waited so long for.

...

And I might not even get to see it,

because it might be cloudy.

Here's hoping it won't be.

Here's hoping the past seven years of waiting

haven't been in vain.

...

though I probably won't be devastated if it is.

regardless, the world will still fall under darkness,

albeit even if just for a few minutes.

...

It's all Waiting for Godot anymore, isn't it?

...

I still can't believe the wait is finally over.

[tony-jots-his-thoughts-blog]

i don't know how this works

why keep a diary? every diary ever written is, inherently, written to someone. i am a college student, a history major, and so i read a lot of diaries that have been kept through the years-- and nearly every single one is to someone. to a third, omniscient reader, who seems to know better. supposedly from the future, a kid maybe reading it after they passed.

regardless, i have a lot a thoughts. all i lack is the friends to share them with. i have my fair share of people i hold near and dear in this life, don't get me wrong, i just fear i burden them too frequently with these thoughts. so, i must keep a diary. but, then, i am still keeping these thoughts with only myself, so long as i'm living. this i can not fathom. i must...blog.

unfortunately i am born at just the wrong time, when i started to become computer literate a site called tumblr had forever changed "blogging." by the time i wanted to blog, tumblr had seemed rather dead. but as the cretins of this world ruin twitter, and dare i say threads, and the thoughts in my brain boil over and out of my eyes, i reluctantly turn back the birthplace of superwholockians, potterheads, and the like.

i will have a lot of thoughts about weird history fun facts. a lot of thoughts about love. i will post the occasional poem, and i will post whatever else i seem fit. i will blog. perhaps not a soul will read, and this will remain a diary unread. perhaps someone finds it, somehow, i really don't know how this works.

so if you are reading this, welcome to blog post one my loyal friend. i swear im normal, and would love if you come with me as i jot my thoughts :)

[the-final-sif]

Going back to my "c!Dream is possessed by a dreamon but neither of them know what they're doing AU" I wanted to clarify some things.

First and foremost, is that both Dream and the Dreamon are in a state of "I didn't think I'd get this far".

The Dreamon has never had someone try to combat it by severing ties before, and frankly, it doesn't know what to do. As mentioned previously it really doesn't want to be exposed as Dream has managed to convince it that his friends are capable of trapping it in Limbo. But it also isn't actually great at social interaction so it doesn't know how to mend Dream's relationships.

Meanwhile, Dream is over here making up bullshit on the fly with 10% of the information and no impluse control. He is astounding at the amount of lying he has managed to get away with.

Now it's worth noting here that as an Admin, Dream is fucking weird. He's very powerful and skilled, but he uses all of that power and skill to run a backwater near vanilla server for like 20 people.

Although when I say skilled, I mean Skilled in the way of a self-taught programer whose never had to do code review even once. Does it work? Yes. Exceptionally well. Could any other human being understand it? No. Not for a second.

He can create stuff on the fly though, even complicated ideas.

Like, for example, a god.

Or a weird, vague death system.

Or another dimension inaccessible without that weird death system.

Yeah, so basically c!Dream totally made up the idea of canon deaths and limbo, and then used DreamXD to implement them.

Oh, yeah, right, DreamXD!

So what's up with this guy?

Well, the long and the short of it is Dream created him.

XD was a server process (visualized as little dream blobs), specifically the server process that prevented End portals from activating. "XD" was just his designation.

Early on in his possession, Dream managed to wrench back enough control to have a few minutes in the meat suit. He used this time to collect a buclet of milk and call XD to him.

The he did something that any reasonable admin would call "batshit insane" and "utterly irresponsible".

Going off what he knew (the end poem and basically nothing else), he turned XD into a player of sorts. He used the milk as raw material to give XD a body, and then he fractured off a part of his own "soul" to give XD proper life.

Specifically, he gave XD a large part of all of his memories of loving & caring for the members of the server. How he became friends with them, and that desire to protect them. He gave XD a concept of love, and then he gave him three more things.

Admin abilities came next, transfering near full control of the server to XD and blocking c!Dream out of almost everything.

Second, he gave XD his mission. "Keep them free. Keep them safe. Try not to get hurt, if you can. After I change back, you'll need to stay away from me."

Finally, he was able to give XD a rough breakdown of how the death system needed to work (a quarantined dimension with time flowing differently to disrupt the infection capability of the Dreamon), but by then the Dreamon had finally managed to get some control back.

XD left with his new mission, a barely stable mess of code with plenty of internal conflict between his initial status as a pure program and now his new status as a player.

For quite awhile, XD sits back and watches. He takes the time to learn more, about what it even means to be free. About what it means to love others, what it means to be safe.

Finally, he starts interacting when Wilbur and Schlatt "die" (in reality, both were very susceptible to the Dreamon's infections due to their compromised mental states and required time away to recovery before they hit the critical point.)

XD starts out rather shy but gets steadily bolder as time wears on and he gets more comfortable with human interaction and begins to develop his own personality.

Also he still protects the end, even if the portals wouldn't work anyways. Because!! That's his first job!! It's in his nature!!! Go away Technoblade!!!

XD is an absolute mess, but he's trying his very best! He has very complicated jobs, with no easy answers, but he's working at it!

c!Dream is very proud of him. The Dreamon fucking hates him.

Oh speaking of c!Dream, he retains two admin abilities, both of which the Dreamon cannot access due to the complexity of them

First, resurrection. (This is actually just a teleportation command, shhhh)

Second, for various reasons he needed to retain the ability to alter player code. Mostly to enable resurrection, but he figures out it can also be used to alter/block memories to some extent.

The Dreamon really wants access to these abilties, unfortunately, despite it's best efforts it's unable to understand c!Dream's weird spaghetti code.

I feel like I should probably explain Ranboo's role in this AU soon, because he is a central figure, but like, I'm not sure if people are emotionally ready for that mess so I'll leave it for now.

[renneiscent]

You Are All That Matters

Hello, I’m not sure if this chapter is what you all expected but I would still love to publish it anyway. This is Jake’s POV that I had written and some parts in this chapter are from my poems that I’ve been posted in internet here somewhere. Please excuse my messy writing and grammar. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you so much for the enthusiasm for this story.

Chapters: 14/?

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I was lone wolf.

There was nothing I enjoyed more than my own solitary. I was a loner that preferred loneliness more than anything. Thus, I put wall around to protect myself from the danger that I could never risk for my own safety. The risks I would never be able to sacrifice even for my hope, even for my own happiness; those basic yet luxury things which always been a part of every human, I have left it all behind.

But then she came into my life and everything changed.

The moment I messaged her for the first time, I knew she will be a time bomb which ready to disrupt my ideal formula. She who her existence was unexpected, made me wondering what kind of part she will play in this chaos? What does universe want until they brought her to me? I have no clue. I had been considered her as a tool, I always have said that she is the important piece of puzzle; she is the key for this case. But now, she is also the key to my soul.

In the glimpse of time, she gained my interest, my attention, my trust, my heart. She is an unsolved riddle that attracts to be deciphered. I want to know her, I want to study her. We didn’t know each other before yet I found pleasant feeling in this unfamiliarity. But our encounter might not a coincidence since I felt like we have known each other for a long time; I, who always build wall around me to not give any information about myself, willing to share it with her.

I supposed no matter how long I have been in run, how many precarious situation I have been through, how many threat I have encounter, I’m still incapable to acknowledge her as a dangerous variable. The more I fought this feeling, the more I am attracted to her. I cannot merely escape. As if the only thing I’m capable of is running straight into her arms and I’m thankful about it.

She owns me. She got me in her fingertips, wrapped every fibre of me in her small hands; my life, my fate, my own self. I am completely helpless and no longer have control. I am completely without doubt at her mercy.

After finding out that she bought the ticket to Canice Hill, I impulsively drive myself to the nearest town with my motorbike. I found it is weird, even for her, to just casually trip to another place out of the blue after what happened tonight. The way I was unable to check her phone since somehow she turned her phone off, it grew more suspicion on me. Therefore I checked from another place. Yes, I occasionally checked her condition. I’m in possession of her phone and even her laptop. I need to know that she is safe. I must know. Then I found the bitter truth; she is sending herself to the culprit without discussing it with me. She didn’t even bother to send me message. I was furious. I was hurt. I hate myself even more because again I am failed to protect her.

When she decided to stay and help me in this case, I have realised that she is different. Of course she is. Any person who was in the strange situation like her; stuck with unknown and suspicious man for casually helping to find another unknown missing girl, will just run away and hide under the rock. But she is still here. She is still staying.

She even still takes this dangerous path with me, even if it means to sacrifice herself. I regret everything I have said to her. I regret to ask her to go to the end of it with me. I regret to keep letting myself to put her in more harm. She has asked me if we are ever going too far when it comes to a person’s life. I told her that time that I could not answer that question. But I think I might be able to answer it now.

If I could turn back the time, I’m surely able to let her go. I will never let myself become more foolish than this and let her to be involved in this case more and more. I will never put her into more danger more than this. I promise that to myself when I roamed in this quiet and peaceful forest. And now here I am, leaving my hiding place. Without the screen between us, I am finally able to meet the woman that managed to occupy every inch of me. My heart cannot stop pounding since I called her for the first time without my distorted voice, but right at this time, I’m relieved because now I have fully access to see her, to protect her, from anyone who dares to lay their fingers to harm her, I will rip them all into pieces.

“It’s me.” I state myself loud and clear, but she is still being sceptical. I find it amusing and annoying. Does she expect someone else or she just want to make it completely sure? But despite the courage of her, I did not expect the defiant and fearless woman of my company is smaller than I expected. She makes me want to keep her away from this filthy and ungracious world. I wonder how all the beauties in this world managed to be in her, how can she become the vessel of this spectacular universe?

The moment she asked about me and how my wall of self-preservation that I have been built is eroded little by little, I already realised that she will be the cause of my death or she will be the one who bring me back to life. But I am more sure about it after I am looking at her in the eyes; how her tiny fingers are wrapping on my arm, pulling me, asking about my plan is. Those eyes are so warm and deep, at this point I’m not even scared to be drowned there.

“Why do I need to do that? All you need to do is following me from behind and not walking separately.” I say that sharply, more to myself rather than to her. I want to convince myself that everything is going accordingly to my plan. No more spontaneous action, no more harmful decision. But she and her charm always find ways to do it, I should realise that she is hard to handle. I should not listen to her and let her magic she put on me affect everything inside me. But I cannot. I’m helpless.

I will do anything for her. I will protect her from any harm with any cost. Even if that means I will fight with the unarmed tree’s branch.  “Hold on, it’s stuck. I will help you, hold this.” I try to untangle the yarns from her hoodie; this is the closest proximity we are having so far. I’m trying to focus but it seems hard when she is near me, when our bodies are almost touching with each other. But I managed to do it, finally. I step back to give space between us but now I also get rewarded to see her face completely. She cut her hair. When did she do that? I never noticed. From time to time when I’m in the urge to check her safety, I will check her condition. But I didn’t see any difference about her appearance. Her last video call with the group didn’t give any insight either since she keeps wearing her favourite yellow hooded jacket and the hoodie always cover her head. This is not the thing I’m proud of, I don’t want to sound like a creep but I just want to make sure her safety.

That’s why when she asked me about how I could know she used to have long hair, I need to lie. I never want to lie to her. But I don’t want her to misjudge me and there is misconception between us. Her opinion about me is important more than anything. I even shave my stubble that I didn’t even bother to get rid of it yesterday, but since I will meet her tonight thereby I make myself clean and presentable. I want to look better for her. This is strange feeling I’m having right now.

But does she truly have the same feeling like I’m having? I know she keep showing how she deeply care and how she show affection toward me, how I’m feeling the belonging because of her. But I’m still unsure. Since there is silence between us and I can listen whatever she is doing behind me makes me thinking that my presence bothers her. Hence, I dare to ask her. “Does my presence bother you?” And she and those sparkly eyes like heavenly finery gaze at me, saying that my presence doesn’t bother her. I smile. I’m blissful. “That’s nice to hear.”

She asks me if I’m happening to be in Duskwood all this time. I want to say no and explain that I’m driving myself here just because I’m worried about her that suddenly flies from another side of state and suddenly being here. But I lie; once again, I lie to her. I don’t want her to be worried because of me. I don’t want her to know that I’m willing do anything for her. I don’t want her to blame herself and instead I want her to look after herself more than anything, more than anyone.

But I think she didn’t understand my intention because right now, this woman of mine is standing still in front of me; she is furious, she says that I’m annoying. She is saying all the sweet and warm things that I’m not sure I’m able to understand every word she saying because at this point, all I want to do is pulling her to my embrace. “I would love to wrap my arms around you right now, but of course if you let me.”

When she’s in my embrace, I’m feeling like I have the world in my hands. It feels like I’m the luckiest human being in this galaxy. I’m not religious person, but I believe someone above the sky is clearly biased toward me, since any gods or goddesses out there entrusted her to me. They give her to me. They clearly favour me more than any livings, because there is no way a precious soul like her is falling for me too. Nobody has ever done anything like whatever she has done for me in my entire life. She is unbelievable.

I want to kiss her. I want to declare my feeling for her. “Would it be okay if I kiss you right now?” She nods. She lets me to kiss her. But which part of her should I plant my kiss on? Should I do it on her lips? But will it be too much? Will it be inappropriate to our first encounter by face to face? Or should I give her kiss on the cheeks? But it’s too ancient even for my boring personality. Then I remember. I always like whenever my mom kiss me in the forehead, that kiss makes me feeling safe. And I want her to feel safe when she’s around me. I kiss her in the forehead, sending every feeling I’m having toward her in one kiss. I hope she is feeling safe when she is with me, because I’m feeling safe when I’m with her.

She and her allure always manage to impress me more than once, everything she does never fail to astonish me. Even if when we are inside the mine, the uncommon place to travel around, she is still being so brave and even letting herself to follow me around. I have no clue if I should be amazed or upset with her stubbornness. This is why she is dangerous, this is why she is like a time bomb; I’m incapable to predict whatever she is going to do in the next minute. Although without my awareness I’m trying to intimidate her more and more, to make her become obedient with my words, but it always fails when it come to her. She and her magic hold me in her palms.

Once again, I let myself to leave her alone.

Once again, I let myself to put her into more danger.

Once again, I let myself to fail to protect the woman of mine.

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[soft-boi-eli]

OMG CAN I REQUEST CC!PHILZA INTRODUCING HIS ADOPTED EMO CHILD TO THE REST OF THE SBI/DSMP

Gender neutral pls they/them

Of course! I've been having a bit of shortages on ideas. So this is so fucking welcomed.

Anyways

Father CC!Philza x Emo! Reader

Pronouns:they/them

Summary:your old parents gave you up as a teen, overflowing you with emotions, causing depression, mood swings, and quite a bit of anxiety. When you got adopted by a man and a lady,both seemingly very kind and understanding. You felt happy. They didnt expect the sleepy bois to come and visit so soon.

Tw:anxiety attacks, mention of depression, loving clothes (not a tw but damn I sometimes miss my old fashion sense.), mention of trauma, swearing!

A huge new family

They dont blame their biological family. They knew that they were being overwhelming. Slowly shifting into a state of mind where fluffy black and colored hair was their favorite. Their outfits became more extravagant and their makeup took a turn for the darker. But they didnt have to put them up for adoption.

About a year in and out of foster families, a few months in an orphanage, then one more foster family. It was official. They were the new child of philza.

Your life got better. Both of them accepted your choice of clothes and makeup, even supported it!

They helped with everything in the first few weeks. Giving you space, letting you know that they were there. But you nor phil knew that three boys were heading down to visit.

So when you answered the door to see three faces demanding philza minecraft and one just looking awkward. They were also changing about him coming and join them you felt panic flood through you. Slamming the door on their face you held near your chest.

Your uneven breathing was heard by your father and he was quick to scoop you away from the door and have kristin answer the door.

He was sitting next to you hand lightly rubbing your shoulder and he guided you through the panic attack. "That's it. In through the nose. Hold it for a few second. Breathe out." His voice was calm.

It took less time to calm you down then you've ever had. "There ya go mate. Just keep breathing." He kept coaching you through you panic attack.

Kristen let the four in with their promise of keeping calm. Your shaking form brought major concern to the two older ones and confusion to the two younger ones. "(Y/n) I want to introduce you to the four behind us. Technoblade, wilbur, tommy, and tubbo. They are really good friends of mine." Nodding lightly you sat there, not wanting to turn because if you did the panic would strike harder. Remembering what happened before you parents left you.

A huge group of people basically shunned your for your choices and didnt want to take you in because 'trash like you' wasnt accepted in the family. But these two were different. Supporting you with your choices. How different were their friends? "Hey I think you shirt is cool! Who's on it?" A slightly hyper voice broke through the silence. " black veil brides." It was quite but a start. "Cool! So their a band right? What kind of songs?" The brown haired teen was trying to communicate with you. "Uhm. Rock." It had started small but you opened up to the teens. They were about you age and they didnt bash what you decided to like. The two older ones hung out with phil and Kristen. You three hung out in your room which was kind of softer then your appearance. It was to reflect a bit deeper into you. Bookshelves, a desk, reading corner, and a bed. Not fully knowing what to put in there.

But you, tommy, and tubbo were almost the best of friends when they had to leave. Techno and Wilbur it took a bit. After the two teens left you had came out of your room, no makeup, hair had all products removed, and your clothes changed from Jean's and a black veiled brides shirt to a black tee shirt, grey sweat pants, with a book in hand.

Before sleeping you just chilled in the living room, reading while basking in the presence of your adoptive parents. You did not expect wilbur and techno to still be there.

Plopping down on the couch next to phil you opened your book and tried to zone out, to get engulfed into the book. Nope. Two sets of eyes just watching you.

"So you like poems?" The book you were reading was a massive collection of poems. Looking up to the two on the couch you nodded lightly.

Looking back down you felt nervous. "Small talk is awkward." Looking up to the brown haired guy with an American accent you nodded. "Same." Once more you looked down at your book. You already had issues focusing but you tried to work though it. "What kind of poems are you favorite?" You sat there for a second. Trying to think of something that catches your attention.

"Mainly ones about trauma. It reminds me I'm not the only one in the word that went through something I have. It just makes it more interesting when I can relate." It was true. Sometimes the poems you liked ring a little to close to home.

"Good choice. It does really intrigue the audience when they can relate." Nodding you closed your book. "Especially when you relate. It's a must for me. Other wise I get turned away from it and just cant focus. But if I like it then I am just dead set on that poem."

You and techno bonded over poems and wilbur brought up some songs. "So what is you song preference?" "Hollywood undead, black veil brides, other then that its random. If I like the song it's in my playlist." With no other preferences with music other then it had to sound good to you there was honestly no judgement for other people's taste in music. There were little treasures from almost all genres.

For a while you talked about poems and songs. It honestly helped you feel safer with them. They didnt care about what you found intriguing. Or why. You even went on a rant and there was no care. They just listened.

But sadly they had to leave. Bit they promised that they would visit more. They were like the brothers you never had.

"So I see that you were able to talk to all of them." Nodding to your father figure you smiled "they were nice. Honestly. I cant wait to see them again."

He found joy in you wanting to hang out with his friends/technically children too.

Now meet the rest of the dream smp. It was very fast. Meeting almost all of them at the same time.

Phil was streaming and no one except for the sleepy bois knew about you. So you walked into his stream, book in hand and sat on the couch behind his set up. You liked having another person on the room. You just hated being alone. It gave you really bad thoughts. "Who's that behind you phil?" A random donation read out. Phil looking behind himself saw you in the corner reading and you normally did. "Ah that's my child. They like to have company. So sometimes they come in here to read." "Wait you have a child?! Since when?" The voice made you jump. Your book fell out of your hands and you looked at your father's screen. A green man with a weird white blob for a skin on minecraft. "Yeah. I took a break to pick them up from the orphanage." All hell broke loose. You ran while phil answered questions. You were not dealing with that. No way. Nuh uh. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Not today satan. It took phil bribing you with a trip to hot topic to get you to come back in. I mean hey you get to score a few shirts and hats. Might as well.

Meeting the server wasbt too bad. But the questions were weird. You didnt answer the ones you were uncomfortable about and they didnt care. Your boundries were up. And when tommy, tubbo, willbur, and techno revealed they knew of you they were yelled at. It was funny. Watching people say they should of said something. But it resulted in alot of compliments and Phil's chat loving you.

You were now the older sibling of the chat. Why? Cause chat said so.

When you come in from now on the chat is chanting for you. Just "(y/n)!" Over and over.

Your life? Crazy. But it became a bit better after you were living with your new parents. It was heaven.

I'm sorry if its awkward I'm not good at introductions. And I am tis but a sleep deprived human. I need sleep and so do you have a nice day and once more I'm sorry if this isnt up to what you wanted.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Reid My Lips - Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

A/N - on the twelth and FINAL day of shipmas fortheloveofcriminalminds gave to me…Spencer x Reader Fluff! Hope you guys enjoyed them, I had a lot of fun writing these! Find my Shipmas masterlist here. Find my full masterlist here.

My taglists are open for Spencer x Reader and all works so let me know if you want to be added. Requests are also open.

Requested: Yes l No l Kind of ?

Idea came from @andiebeaword as I was struggling to come up with something that wasn't either angsty or smutty! - "What about one where they're dating, but haven't kissed yet, and every time reader tries, for some bizarre reason, Spencer keeps dodging them. reader thinks he's trying a subtle way to say he doesn't want to kiss when in reality, he just doesn't want reader to think he's a bad kisser" - Set circa s15, some spoilers for the last 2 episodes.

CW: none that I can think of! Just lusting after Spencer's lips. Some talks of Spencer's insecurites and lack of experience.

Plot: In which all the reader wants in the world is to feel Spencer's lips on hers.

WC: 2.4K

—————————————————————

Spencer Reid’s lips were the kind they would have written poetry about.

They were plump, sinfully so, the first time you’d met him several years ago when you joined the team it was the first thing you’d noticed about him. How it didn’t seem fair for him have had lips such as these bestowed upon him. He had the most kissable lips you’d ever seen in your life.

If you were a writer and not a profiler, you may well have tried to write a poem about them. But alas, a wordsmith you were not. So you had to make do with just staring at them every available opportunity you got.

When he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask you on a date after six years of working together you were thrilled to say the least. Finally, after all that time imaging what those lips would feel like, you might actually get to see for yourself.

For your first date Spencer took for you dinner at a fancy restaurant. Despite the fact you had known each other so long, the date was awkward.

Usually, you never struggled to find things to talk to Spencer about. Most of the time while the rest of the team were sleeping on the jet the two of you stayed up chatting aimlessly between you.

But somehow when the word date was used, it made everything uncomfortable between the two of you.

The night started as a long, drawn out silence but thankfully you both eased into it and by the time your main courses came you were able to chat a little more freely.

You’d had dinner together countless times over the years. But that was just as friends. Not as two people who were clearly attracted to one another even though deep down that’s what you’d always been.

Spencer walked you home after dinner. It was a mild night and you didn’t live too far from the restaurant so you thought the walk would be nice.

The first few blocks you fell back into that uncomfortable silence but thankfully you found your voices again.

Despite everything, you’d had a great time and you’d hoped Spencer had too.

As you stood awkwardly on the sidewalk outside your apartment you were desperate for him to kiss you. He wasn’t quite so shy and dorky as he had been when you first met so you’d thought he might make the first move.

He did not.

“Goodnight Y/N. I’ll see you Monday.” He offered you one of his shy waves.

No, this would not do. You’d been dreaming about those lips too long. It was time to do something about it.

You moved in close, your eyes closing as you neared his lips.

But what met your lips wasn’t his own. You felt prickly skin and your eyes shot open to see her had turned his head and your lips had landed on his stubble grazed face.

“Uhm…” you stepped back feeling incredibly uncomfortable. “Goodnight then I guess.”

You chalked it up to shyness. You guessed thirty plus years of insecurities couldn’t be washed away in a three month prison stint.

***

The next time an opportunity presented itself to steal a kiss from Spencer was a few weeks later.

You were out of town on a case and he’d invited you to his room to watch Doctor Who. You’d thought or maybe hoped it was just an excuse to get you alone in his room. You were surprised to say the least when he actually wanted to watch Doctor Who.

You sat side by side on his bed watching the small hotel TV. You dared to shuffle your hand closer until your fingers brushed and eventually you’d taken the plunge and entwined your fingers.

He didn’t seem to mind, he just gave your hand a firm squeeze as he held it.

About half way through the episode you decided to go for the kiss. You were desperate to feel those lips on yours and you hoped whatever awkwardness he felt on your date had since washed away.

You turned to face him, momentarily breathless at how beautiful he was.

“Spence,” you whispered prompting him to turn and face you.

He had a dopey half smile on those lips as he looked at you. You moved quickly, closing the space ready to feel those lips.

But once again you were met with his stubbly cheek.

You tried to tell yourself he was shy. That’s all it was. It’s not that he didn’t want to kiss you. It couldn’t be, right?

***

You’d started to think maybe Spencer had changed his mind about the two of you dating. It had been several weeks since your first date and although you’d been busy with back to back cases there had been time if he’d really wanted to take you out again.

It was nearly a month after your first date he finally asked you on a second. You’d jumped at the opportunity.

Spencer took you to the Smithsonian, you’d walked around hand in hand with Spencer telling you all kinds of facts and statistics the institution didn’t share.

You hung off his every word, mesmerised by the way his lips moved as he talked and wanting to feel them on yours with a white hot passion.

He took you for coffee after and you fell into comfortable conversation. But you couldn’t keep your eyes off those goddamn lips of his.

As you stepped out of the coffee shop hand in hand you made a quick move to place a chaste kiss on his lips as he was in the middle of telling you a story about his mom. You thought if you were fast enough he wouldn’t even see it coming and you could just get this awkward air out of the way.

You leant in fast, and as your lips were about to collide Spencer side stepped, turning to face the window of the coffee shop.

You stumbled, correcting yourself before you fell face first on the sidewalk.

“I didn’t know they had donuts! Now I want a donut.” He chuckled and suddenly he was heading back inside.

“Goddamnit Spencer.” You groaned under your breath.

By now you were starting to think he just didn’t like you. Why else would he keep dodging your attempts at kissing him?

You felt downtrodden. You felt insecure. Why on Earth had he asked you out if he didn’t want to kiss you?

***

Six dates in and all you’d done still was hold hands. You really didn’t get him. He kept asking you out but never seemed interested in doing anything other than hand holding.

You liked Spencer, a lot, but you were not willing to be in a relationship where there was no kind of intimacy.

But that was all pushed to the back of your mind when you and JJ found Spencer passed out in his apartment.

He’d been involved in an explosion thanks to the psychopath Everett Lynch. He was late for work the following day which was really unlike Spencer so you and JJ went to check on him. That’s when you’d found him.

While the rest of the team worked on finding Lynch, you stayed vigil at his bedside.

When he’d finally woken up tears streamed down your face and you’d be up like a shot.

“Oh my god Spence,” you sobbed. “I thought I was going to lose you.” You leant in to kiss his chapped lips.

He rolled his head to the side on the pillow, once again your lips meeting stubbly skin.

“I’m really thirsty.” He croaked, seemingly ignoring your actions.

You swallowed your pride with a sigh.

“I’ll get you some water Spence.” And with your tail between your legs you left the room in search of hydration.

***

After that you’d decided no more. You were fed up feeling a fool every time you tried to make a move on him only to be shot down.

So you decided you wouldn’t bother anymore.

Since he left hospital the two of you still hung out but it was less frequent as usual and the word date was never used again.

One night, it came to a head.

You were in Spencer’s apartment watching some foreign film which you were struggling to comprehend despite the subtitles.

Your mind was whirring, lost down a rabbit hole of thoughts of you and Spencer. You were so preoccupied in your own head you didn’t even notice when Spencer scooted closer to you or put his arm around your shoulders.

“Y/N?” He whispered your name, snapping you out of the abyss.

“Hmm?” You turned to face him.

His tongue glided over his bottom lip and his eyes were trained on your lips.

The next few seconds happened in slow motion. Spencer started edging closer to you, his eyes fluttering closed and his lips pursed.

And you turned your head to face the TV, allowing his lips to hit your cheek the way yours had to him so many times.

He made a strange noise that sounded halfway between a sigh and a groan. You tried to pretend you were focused on the TV. You felt his eyes on the side of your face and you tried to ignore it.

After a few minutes Spencer paused the film, the room falling silent. You swallowed a lump in your throat and slowly turned to face him.

“Why’d you stop the film?” you hoped your voice didn’t sound as shaky as you thought it did.

“I think we need to talk.” Spencer chewed his lip. “I think I need to explain why I’ve been so...weird.”

“Spencer, trust me when I say you being weird is not an unusual thing.” you tried to lighten the mood.

“Weirder than usual then.” he was fidgeting in his seat, wringing his hands together in his lap.

“I hadn’t noticed.” you lied.

“Yes you have.” he told you.

“Look Spence,” you sighed. “If you don’t want to kiss me I get it. But why would you ask me out if that’s not what you wanted?” the words spilled out of your mouth.

He nodded his understanding at your words, running one hand through his messy locks.

“I do want to kiss you Y/N.” his cheeks stained red with embarrassment. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you, since the first time I met you. Jeez, kissing is just the tip of the iceberg of things I want to do with you.” his blush deepened.

Your chest tightened at his words, a twinge passing between your legs.

“You uhm...you have a funny way of showing it.” your voice was breathy. You didn’t mean it to be.

“I know.” he nodded, gnawing his bottom lip. “I freaked myself out. I got in my head and I panicked and I didn’t know how to deal with that. So I dealt with it really, really badly and I’m sorry.”

“What were you freaking out about Spence?”

He sighed heavily, the blush still straining his cheeks.

“It took me six years to finally work up the courage to ask you out.” he laughed shyly. “But when I finally did, I was terrified I wouldn’t be good enough.”

Your face dropped, sadness in your eyes.

“Spencer,” you reached for him and took hold of his hand. It was sweating and shaking.

He shook his head sadly, telling you not to try and convince him otherwise.

“Y/N, I am not...not so great with women in case you’d never picked up on that.” he chuckled again, but again it was a shy sound. “I don’t ha-have...so much ex-experience.” he swallowed hard. “There have only been...a few...women. Not enough to make me an...ex-expert in any sense.” he swallowed again. “I just wanted to be...good...for you.”

“Oh Spencer,” you felt tears in your eyes. You had no idea he’d been going through this mental turmoil. “Spencer I don’t care. I’ve wanted you for six years. Trust me, there is no way in hell you will not be good enough. I am crazy about you Spence, and all I want in the whole right now is to kiss you. I have waited too long to know what those lips would-”

He cut you off when his lips suddenly crashed against yours.

You let out a small whimper as those plump lips of his finally kissed you. They felt better than your wildest imagination.

The whimper allowed Spencer to slide his tongue in your mouth. He held your face in his large hands, exploring your mouth with fervor.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

It was without a doubt the single most magical experience of your life. Nothing could have prepared you for how good his kiss would be.

It sent goosebumps flaring across your skin, making your chest tighten with lust.

It made you wet between your legs.

Maybe you should take a writing class because these lips, this kiss, definitely deserved poems written about them.

Your whole body felt as though it were on fire, every nerve ending in your body tingling with desire.

When the kiss ended you both gasped for air, trying to satiate your now empty lungs.

Spencer’s cheeks stained red again as he waited for your reaction shyly.

“I hope that was o-ok.” He stuttered a little.

You couldn’t help the large smile that broke out across your face.

“Spencer Reid, that was more than ok. It was perfect.”

His blush deepened and he looked away from you briefly before finding your eyes once more.

“Good.” He swallowed. “Because there’s a lot more I want to do with you Y/N.”

His words made you shudder.

“Now?” You swallowed, feeling oddly nervous.

“Right now.” He nodded before taking your face in his hands and kissing you again.

He was going to show exactly what his lips could do. And those poems practically wrote themselves between the sheets.

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Taglist -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl

@measure-in-pain

@ptrs-prkrs

[midnightstar-90]

Live Laugh Love ~ Pilot

Masterlist | Taglist | Request

Georgie Cooper x Reader

Summary: 9-year-old Sheldon Cooper learns that having a brilliant mind doesn't always help growing up in Texas.

Warning: None

A/N: I wrote 2,587 words! I loved being able to bring my creations to life. I hope to do more in the future.

Y/N and Georgie are in Georgie's room when Mary calls the two teens down for dinner. They head down the stairs and into the kitchen. As they sit down in their chairs, right next to each other, they hear Mary yells towards the garage, "Shelly, dinner's ready!" Mary starts serving the table as we wait for Sheldon. George yells out to Sheldon after a couple of minutes, "Sheldon! Don't make me come in there!" Y/N and Georgie sit there engaging in a hushed conversation about the movie they watched together earlier that week. Missy soon gets tired of waiting for Sheldon, and yells to Sheldon, "Sheldon, if you don't get in here, I'm gonna lick your toothbrush while you're sleeping!" Sheldon quickly responds with, "Coming" before rushing into the house to eat.

Sheldon enters the house, and he quickly sits down with the rest of his family, who are all sitting around the table. George waits for the boy to sit down before saying, "What the hell were you doing in there?" Mary calls George's name with a calm yet angry voice. George notices and responds with, "What?" Mary gets onto George for his language. "What language?" George asks Mary before turning to Sheldon, "So?" "I was having fun with dimensional kinematics", Sheldon says responding to his father. Hearing this, Y/N and Georgie look at each other and roll their eyes.

"Just at admit it, he's adopted," Georgie says to his parents after turning his attention away from his food. Sheldon turns to Georgie and says, "How could I be adopted when I have a twin sister? Think monkey, Think." Y/N chuckles at Sheldon's insult towards Georgie. Georgie gives Y/N a glare. Mary breaks the fight between the boys by telling them that no one was adopted, but Y/N. Mary realizes what she says and sadly looks at Y/N. Y/N just shrugs and goes back to listening to the people she called family. Y/N was sad about the reminder of the situation that occurred when 11 years ago but didn't let the comment affect her.

"I wish I was.", Missy comments under her breath. "That can still be arranged.", Mary tells Missy before telling the family that it is time to pray. George expresses his irritation with a groan, causing Mary to give George a very stern look. Right before the family starts to pray, Sheldon puts on a pair of mittens. George groans again which makes Y/N chuckle. "Leave him be," Mary says defending her youngest son. George argues, "He can hold hands with his family, it won't kill him."  "We don't know that." Sheldon says before looking at Georgie and asks, "Did you wash your hands before dinner?" "Shut up," says Georgie defensively. Y/N finally speaks up, "Hey, I have to hold his hand to pray every night, whether his hands are washed or not." Georgie glares at Y/N again, and Y/N and Missy laugh and high-five each other under the table. "I hold his hand Y/N, hence the mittens." Y/N playfully rolls her eyes at the comment. The family holds their hands together and prays.

After prayer, Sheldon takes off his mittens and starts eating with the family. Mary asked everyone at the table if they were excited to start school on Monday. Sheldon is the first to respond with an "I am". Missy then responds to Mary's question with an "I guess so". Y/N is third to respond with, "I guess. The only thing I like is hanging out with Georgie and the fact that I am in Art this year". Ever since Y/N moved into Cooper's household, Mary noticed that the one thing Y/N loved more than hanging out with Georgie was how creative she was. At church, Y/N would sing like angel. When Y/N thought Mary wasn't looking she would dance her heart out. Y/N also had a sketchbook full of really cool art and a notebook full of wonderful poems and stories. Mary knew Y/N was gonna have a successful life, and she hoped and prayed that Georgie wouldn't mess it up for her.

Georgie was not happy about starting school. "How can I be excited when he's gonna be there?!" Georgie complains. Sheldon boasts, "Don't worry, I won't be in the ninth grade for very long". George tries to help Georgie by saying, "Never mind him, you and Y/N just focus on your practice". Georgie is on the football team and Y/N is on the cheer squad. "How am I supposed to do that when he's in the same grade as me?" "Just ignore him. At least you'll have me there, except for 5th period. I have art" Y/N reassures her best friend.

"All I know is he's not in the same grade as me anymore, and I am thrilled," Missy says before getting a kick in the leg and glare from Y/N. Sheldon sarcastically says, "Good luck with your finger painting."Missy responds with, "You're gonna get your ass kicked in high school". Mary yells at Missy about her language. Sheldon says, "I'm not going to be assaulted- high school is a haven for higher learning". Y/N and George both respond with a quiet, "oh, dear God".

"Speaking of God, who's going to church with me tomorrow?" Mary asked. George says he can't make it because he has to meet with the other coaches. Mary asks if they could meet after church which George responds with a, "no, we can not meet after church". There is an awkward pause before Mary asks Georgie. Georgie tells his mother, "I have to study my playbook." before looking to his father for approval. George nods at his son, while Y/N looks down at her food with a sad expression, wishing that Georgie would have gone with them. "I have to practice my cheer performance, but I can do that after church. It would be nice to go back," Y/N tells her godmother, which puts a big smile on Mary's face and a frown on Georgie's. Sheldon also decides to go with Mary. Y/N's face grew a wide smile hearing that Sheldon was going. "Oh! Cheer practice can wait! Sheldon at church will be more fun than any cheer performance! I can just see it now. Sheldon and science versus Pastor Jeff and God." Y/N jokingly says while laughing. Missy brings the conversation back to Sheldon by asking why he's going to church when he doesn't even like church. "No, but I believe in mom," Sheldon said putting a big smile on Mary's face.

When Mary asked Missy if she was going, Missy tried to get out of it, but as I said she tried. "Son of a bitch.", Missy says under her breath. Mary flicks Missy's head and Georgie laughs. George smacks Georgie's head and Y/N laughs.

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Y/N's Pov

Mary, Sheldon, Missy, and I were all in our church clothing, sitting in a pew. The church was full. Everyone except for Sheldon sang Onward Christian Soldiers. Sheldon whispers something to Mary, that I couldn't hear.

Pastor Jeff starts the sermon and Sheldon is still asking Mary questions. "Do you have evil thoughts?" Sheldon whispers to his mother. Mary shh's him but he still keeps going, "I just don't think this part applies to me". "That's fine, be quiet and listen," Sheldon says something else about puberty, causing an older woman to turn towards the boy and his mother. When the woman turns back toward the Pastor, Sheldon asked Missy and me if we had evil thoughts. I respond with a "Not really" but Missy said the opposite, " I'm having one right now". When Sheldon asks what it was, Missy said that she was going to kick him where the sun doesn't shine when we got home. Sheldon tells missy that his balls haven't dropped yet and then asked his mom when his balls would drop. The older lady turns back towards the family and Mary threatens the woman.

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We get back from church and Sheldon instantly goes for the student handbook. I pass Mary and Sheldon to go change. I go into Georgie's room after I change. Georgie is in his normal wear, a t-shirt, and jeans, reading his 'Sports Illustrated' magazine. "You know you have no chance with any of those girls in that magazine, right", I say leaning against Georgie's door frame. Georgie instantly looks up at me and says, "You look good. Maybe more than those girls in my magazine." I'm wearing a black jean skirt, with a nirvana shirt tucked in and a black and white striped long sleeve shirt under it.

Georgie and I laugh at his comment and walk over to his bed. "So, how was church?" Georgie asked while going back to reading his magazine. "It was ok. Your mom almost beat up an old lady for calling Sheldon weird, after he talked about his balls dropping. Other than that, it was like any regular church day." I tell Georgie. "So!", Getting Georgie's attention, "How was your playbook?" I ask Georgie knowing he was lying. Georgie looks at me then back at his magazine. "You know that was not the main reason I didn't go to church. I'm not as invested in church as much as you are, so don't give me that look." Georgie says knowing I was going to get onto him for lying to his mother. I dropped that conversation, and we went downstairs to watch tv and talk.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I get downstairs, I see George and Georgie talking, so I walk over to them. On my way there, Mary stops me and asked me if I've to saw Sheldon's bowtie. I shake my head no and continue walking. When I get to the table where the boys are talking, they are talking about football. Mary comes up and asks if the boys have seen Sheldon's bowtie. George tells Mary, "Leave it alone Mary, he doesn't need a damn bowtie." Mary argues back, "It's his first day of school, let him wear what he wants." Sheldon yells down the stairs that he still can't find his bowtie. "Oh dear lord, why's he gotta wear a bowtie?" Mary says walking away.

"Can Y/N and I ride in with you", Georgie asked his father. I sit there eating my breakfast quietly, before looking up when hearing my name. George contemplates the situation, then says "sure". "Everybody's gonna know he's your brother. You can't hide. It's gonna be awful for you." I didn't even know Missy was at the table before she said something. "Tell her to shut up." Georgie defensively tells his father. Georgie tells his son, "She's not wrong" earning a light slap on the arm from me. George mumbles sorry and goes back to his coffee.

We're all eating when Mary storms into the kitchen. "George Junior, give me back that bowtie right now!" She yells. "I didn't take it!" "Don't you lie to me!" "I'm not lying!" "We'll see about that!" The pair go back and forth. When Mary walks back upstairs, he yells for his mother to stay out of his room. Missy smiles and says, "She's gonna find your dirty magazines." "Shut up." "You are not having a good day." I shake my head at Georgie, agreeing with Missy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Georgie and I are sitting in homeroom when we see Sheldon walk in. Sheldon calls out, "My father's a football coach, my adoptive sister's a cheerleader, and my brother's a football player!" When Sheldon sees us he yells out, "Oh, 2/3 of them are over there! Hi, Y/N! Hi, Georgie!" Georgie and I put our heads down in embarrassment.

Ms. Macelroy introduces herself and the class. She makes a joke about having some of our family members in her class, which causes a few students to chuckle. She introduces Sheldon and Sheldon raises his hand. When the teacher calls on Sheldon, we hear Sheldon tell Ms. Macelroy who is breaking the dress code. Georgie and I sink in our chair lower and lower as Sheldon keeps talking. She dismisses Sheldon, but he puts his hand up again. Sheldon tells his teacher that she is also breaking the dress code because she has a mustache. Georgie and I sink as low as we can in our chair while the rest of the class laughs.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Georgie and I are on the football field but on opposite sides. I am with the cheerleaders practicing my moves, and Georgie is with the football players practicing blocking drills. I knew Georgie was having a hard time with starting school with his younger brother, so I kept my eye on him. When I see the fight between him and Albert Stinson, I excuse myself from my squad and follow Georgie to the boy's locker room.

I walk in to see Georgie angrily tearing off his equipment. When he accidentally throws something at me, I quickly dodge it. "You know, if you threw like that on the football field this year, we would win playoffs for sure," I say jokingly getting Georgies attention. "What are you doing here? This is the boy's locker room." "I don't care if the whole team was in here naked, I would do anything to help my best friend when he is down." Georgie sits down next to me. George is watching the whole thing play out. "Do you remember when I was 5, and I missed my parents so much that I had that tantrum?" Georgie nods his head. "You were there for me when I needed you, now it's my time. I've seen how upset Sheldon going to school with us has made you. You have held in your emotions for too long. I know you get jealous when Sheldon gets special treatment. I want you to know that you are not the only one. Missy and I feel that way sometimes, but I have you. I don't need anyone to but you to make me feel special. I guess what I am saying is..." Georgie looks up at me, and I take Georgie into a side hug, "When you feel emotional don't take it out on your team. You have me. Talk to me. We are always together and I don't want to see you tear your life apart over something stupid like going to school with Sheldon."

George comes from behind the locker and tells me to go back to practice. I let go of Georgie and give him a sad look before doing as George instructed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We get home, and George stops me at the door. "Thanks. You stopped your practice to help out Georgie. I appreciate that.", George tells Y/N sincerely. "Georgie is my best friend. Now, if he managed to hit me, that conversation would have gone a whole other direction." I say jokingly. George chuckles and lets me go.

I go up to Georgie's room. Georgie looked like he was in a better mood. I went in and talked with Georgie until time for dinner.

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Narrator's Pov

The whole family gathers around the table to eat, but first, pray. When it's time to pray Sheldon surprisingly doesn't wear one of his gloves. No surprise when it wasn't the hand Georgie held.

Later that night everyone was sleeping peacefully, except for Y/N who would find laying right next to Georgie, like they have been for the past 11 years when someone was upset.

[byulsgrease]

duly noted

you've never been one to obsess about your soulmate, assuming you'll figure it out when the time is right. but seriously, what kind of nonsense has yours been writing about recently?

(eventual moonbyul / wheein x gender neutral reader, soulmate!au, trainee/idol!au, ~1.2k words)

a/n: wheein bias wrecker anon! I might've had too much fun with your req and so this is gonna be my first soulmate au 🤠 while byul and wheein don't actually appear in this part (does that make this a prologue? idk), I promise they'll make their appearance soon enough :)

cw: struggles of being a trainee (weight + food talk)

The claps from your dance instructor ring out in the mirrored studio, calling everyone to attention before they send you off for the day. Everyone stands around listening to whatever niceties they're talking about, asking the rhetorical questions of whether all of you want this, how everyone needs to work harder, etc. How many years has it been now, almost three? Evaluations went pretty well recently and you've certainly demonstrated signs of growth since you started, but debut? Who knows. Does anyone, really?

But right now it's late and you're hungry, hoping that your growling stomach isn't loud enough to pierce through the lecture. You're respectfully tuned out anyway, since it's all old news. Nothing you haven't heard before. They clap again once their spiel ends and everyone disperses. Your eyes catch Hyejin's on your way out of the studio, sharing a funny face and an eyeroll before disappearing into the herd of trainees shuffling to the lockers.

Your locker opens with a routine spin of the dial, taking care to slow down and line up the numbers properly so you're not stuck having to do it over again. The inside's pretty cute for a metallic rectangle— it's really the only space of your own besides your notebook. Pictures of your family, old school friends, and fellow trainee friends line the sides beneath a tiny string of battery-powered fairy lights. It's not much, but always a humbling reminder of why you're here.

Unzipping your bag, you take out a pair of slides and drop them on the floor while stepping out of your sneakers. There's not much else in your bag, just a change of clothes and your notebook, of course. Everyone has one. Anything inside could be drawn, written, scribbled, painted. It’s your personal creative space and no one else's, but with two conditions:

You can't write your name in it, not even your initials. Of course everyone tried to as kids against their parents commands, but letters simply sink into the page, disappearing as if they'd never been written at all.

You can only mark up one side. Pages on the right side are for you, and the left side pages fill themselves. Fill themselves with what? you asked your parents. They gave you a non-answer, saying you'd figure it out someday. Great. Only other thing they bothered to tell you was that your right-hand pages were someone's left-hand ones. So someone can see what I put here? Their confirmation sounded rather casual, which you found weird. Someone out there was watching what you put in? But you got used to it, especially since every person owns one. It's a novelty for children anyway. Mark up a page however you want, knowing that someone out in the would will see, and sit back to watch whatever randomness shows up on the left side.

Your left side pages were actually empty for quite a while, save for the occasional "UGGHHH" followed by a typical childish annoyance scrawled messily across the entirety of the page in marker. Not that notebook use was mandatory, but parents usually encouraged it because it kept their kids occupied. There wasn't much you could do about empty pages, nor did you care most of the time, but it did leave you a little jealous of other kids at school who'd sometimes open theirs and be greeted with cute watercolor paintings, mini murals, or skillfully written poetry.

For you, the notebook's served many uses. As a kid it was random doodles and poorly-drawn fantasy scenarios— escapism, perhaps. In middle school it was angsty poems and random journal entries about the random happenings of your life. For the first half of high school it became your to-do list, keeping track of school assignments. And on the rarest occasion, song lyrics. Visual art was never your medium of choice, music came more easily. But drawing staff lines for music notation in the notebook usually ended up being too tedious, so your original stuff was mostly relegated to voice memos on your phone. And now? Who knows. Trainee life may as well be a blur. Sing, dance, talk, eat if you can afford to, sleep, repeat. It's hard to find the energy to write anything most days. Whenever you feel like checking, the left side has random jottings, nearly illegible most of the time.

It wasn't until you got older that you realized that whoever read your entries on the was the same person generating content on the left. And supposedly the person you're supposed to be with for the rest of time? What kind of system is that? I'm just supposed to trust blindly? having asked your parents in exasperation after figuring it out. Again with more non-answers— it had worked for them, didn't it? There's also the obvious question of why people don't just write directly to each other, but whatever. You're still young, no need to obsess over "the one" unlike some of your classmates. If it's meant to be, it'll happen, you figure. And it obviously is, you've got a notebook with (semi-)filled left side pages. What more could you ask for?

The cacophony of clanging lockers opening and closing starts to die down as people leave. Hyejin's head pops out from behind the locker door, laughing in your face when you flinch.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, one sec. Man, I'm starving,” you remark while slipping the bag straps on your back and closing the locker door. You don't even want to know how strapped for cash you are, probably in for another night of boiled eggs and canned kimchi.

“Wanna go out for food?” she immediately asks, eyes alight at the prospect of getting to eat something besides convenience store food.

"I wish. Actually, you wish," you smirk with longing in your eyes. The "no" doesn't even have to be said, weigh-ins are way too soon to risk it. She hangs her head, jokingly dejected as you swing an arm around her shoulder to walk out of the company building together.

~~~~

After scrounging up whatever food you call dinner, taking a shower, and flopping into bed, you open up your notebook and grab the random pen laying on your dresser, unsure of what you'll write about tonight. There's chicken scratch on the left page already, ballpoint pen. It's actually legible today, though: In my room every day I see your smile.

What the hell does that mean? Whose smile, yours? You haven't even met yet.

Call me everyday every night, hug me everywhere every time

Utter nonsense. Maybe meeting soulmates is just a huge game of catch-up once everything's finally revealed, surely yours will be. There’s just so many questions. Moving to the right side, you jot down a list of cheat meal ideas along with some assorted notes and pointers from practice that you want to work on tomorrow, drawing little characters next to each list item for fun. After accidentally drawing a random squiggle from jolting yourself awake and feeling the heaviness in your eyelids, you cap your pen and shut your notebook, placing it back in your bag. With the lights out, the last thought you have before sleep consumes you is why haven't you ever tried writing directly to each other after all this time?

[next]

[yamayuandadu]

Circe by Madeline Miller: a review

As you might have noticed, a few of my most recent posts were more or less a liveblog of Madeline Miller’s novel Circe. However, as they hardly exhausted the subject, a proper review is also in order. You can find it under the “read more” button. All sorts of content warnings apply because this book takes a number of turns one in theory can expect from Greek mythology but which I’d hardly expect to come up in relation to Circe. I should note that this is my first contact with this author’s work. I am not familiar with Miller’s more famous, earlier novel Song of Achilles - I am not much of an Iliad aficionado, truth to be told. I read the poem itself when my literature class required it, but it left no strong impact on me, unlike, say, the Epic of Gilgamesh or, to stay within the theme of Greek mythology, Homeric Hymn to Demeter, works which I read at a similar point in my life on my own accord.

What motivated me to pick up this novel was the slim possibility that for once I’ll see my two favorite Greek gods in fiction, these being Hecate and Helios (in case you’re curious: #3 is Cybele but I suspect that unless some brave soul will attempt to adapt Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, she’ll forever be stuck with no popcultural presence outside Shin Megami Tensei). After all, it seemed reasonable to expect that Circe’s father will be involved considering their relationship, while rarely discussed in classical sources, seems remarkably close. Hesiod’s Catalogue of Women and Apollonius’ Argonautica describe Circe arriving on her island in her father’s solar chariot, while Ptolemy Hephaestion (as quoted by Photius) notes that Helios protected her home during the Gigantomachy. Helios, for all intents and purposes, seems like a decent dad (and, in Medea’s case, grandpa) in the source material even though his most notable children (and granddaughter) are pretty much all cackling sorcerers, not celebrated heroes. How does Miller’s Helios fare, compared to his mythical self? Not great, to put it lightly, as you’ll see later. As for Hecate… she’s not even in the book. Let me preface the core of the review by saying I don’t think reinterpreting myths, changing relations between figures, etc. is necessarily bad - ancient authors did it all the time, and modern adaptations will inevitably do so too, both to maintain internal coherence and perhaps to adjust the stories to a modern audience, much like ancient authors already did. I simply don’t think this book is successful at that. The purpose of the novel is ostensibly to elevate Circe above the status of a one-dimensional minor antagonist - but to accomplish this, the author mostly demonizes her family and a variety of other figures, so the net result is that there are more one dimensional female villains, not less. I expected the opposite, frankly. The initial section of the novel focuses on Circe’s relationship with her family, chiefly with her father. That’s largely uncharted territory in the source material - to my knowledge no ancient author seemed particularly interested in covering this period in her life. Blank pages of this sort are definitely worth filling. To begin with, Helios is characterized as abusive, neglectful and power-hungry. And also, for some reason, as Zeus’ main titan ally in the Titanomachy - a role which Hesiod attributes to Hecate… To be fair I do not think it’s Hesiod who serves as the primary inspiration here, as it’s hard to see any traces of his account - in which Zeus wins in no small part because he promises the lesser titans higher positions that they had under Cronus - in Miller’s version of events. Only Helios and Oceanus keep their share, and are presented as Zeus’ only titan allies (there’s a small plot hole as Selene appears in the novel and evidently still is the moon…) - contrary to just about any portrayal of the conflict, in which many titans actually side with Zeus and his siblings. Also, worth noting that in Hesiod’s version it’s not Oceanus himself who cements the pact with Zeus, it’s his daughter Styx - yes, -that- Styx. Missed opportunity to put more focus on female mythical figures - first of many in this work, despite many reviews praising it as “feminist.” Of course, it’s not all about Helios. We are quickly introduced to a variety of female characters as well (though, as I noted above, none of these traditionally connected to the Titanomachy despite it being a prominent aspect of the book’s background). They are all somewhat repetitive - to the point of being basically interchangeable. Circe’s mother is vain and cruel; so is Scylla. And Pasiphae. There’s no real indication of any hostility between Circe and any of her siblings in classical sources, as far as I am aware, but here it’s a central theme. The subplots pertaining to it bear an uncanny resemblance to these young adult novels in which the heroine, who is Not Like Other Girls, confronts the Chads and Stacies of the world, and I can’t shake off the feelings that it’s exactly what it is, though with superficial mythical flourish on top. I should note that Pasiphae gets a focus arc of sorts - which to my surprise somehow manages to be more sexist than the primary sources. A pretty famous tidbit repeated by many ancient authors is that Pasiphae cursed her husband Minos, regarded as unfaithful, to kill anyone else he’d have sex with with his… well, bodily fluids. Here she does it entirely  because she’s a debased sadist and not because unfaithfulness is something one can be justifiably mad about. You’d think it would be easy to put a sympathetic spin on this. But the book manages to top that in the very same chapter - can’t have Pasiphae without the Minotaur (sadly - I think virtually everything else about Pasiphae and Minos is more fun than that myth but alas) so in a brand new twist on this myth we learn that actually the infamous affair wasn’t a curse placed on Pasiphae by Poseidon or Aphrodite because of some transgression committed by Minos. She’s just wretched like that by nature. I’m frankly speechless, especially taking into account the book often goes out of its way to present deities in the worst light possible otherwise, and which as I noted reviews praise for its feminist approach - I’m not exactly sure if treating Pasiphae worse than Greek and Roman authors did counts as that.  I should note this is not the only instance of… weirdly enthusiastic references to carnal relations between gods and cattle in this book, as there’s also a weird offhand mention of Helios being the father of his own cows. This, as far as I can tell, is not present in any classical sources and truth to be told I am not a huge fan of this invention. I won’t try to think about the reason behind this addition to maintain my sanity. Pasiphae aside - the author expands on the vague backstory Circe has in classical texts which I’ve mentioned earlier. You’d expect that her island would be a gift from her father - after all many ancient sources state that he provided his children and grandchildren with extravagant gifts. However, since Helios bears little resemblance to his mythical self, Aeaea is instead a place of exile here, since Helios hates Circe and Zeus is afraid of witchcraft and demands such a solution (the same Zeus who, according to Hesiod, holds Hecate in high esteem and who appeared with her on coins reasonably commonly… but hey, licentia poetica, this idea isn’t necessarily bad in itself). Witchcraft is presented as an art exclusive to Helios’ children here - Hecate is nowhere to be found, it’s basically as if her every role in Greek mythology was surgically removed. A bit of a downer, especially since at least one text - I think Ovid’s Metarphoses? - Circe directly invokes Hecate during her confrontation with king Picus (Surprisingly absent here despite being a much more fitting antagonist for Circe than many of the characters presented as her adversaries in this novel…) Of course, we also learn about the origin of Circe’s signature spell according to ancient sources, changing people into animals. It actually takes the novel a longer while to get there, and the invented backstory boils down to Circe getting raped. Despite ancient Greek authors being rather keen on rape as plot device, to my knowledge this was never a part of any myth about Circe. Rather odd decision to put it lightly but I suppose at least there was no cattle involved this time, perhaps two times was enough for the author. Still, I can’t help but feel like much like many other ideas present in this book it seems a bit like the author’s intent is less elevating the Circe above the role of a one note witch antagonist, but rather punishing her for being that. The fact she keeps self loathing about her origin and about not being human doesn’t exactly help to shake off this feeling. This impression that the author isn’t really fond of Circe being a wacky witch only grows stronger when Odysseus enters the scene. There was already a bit of a problem before with Circe’s life revolving around love interests before - somewhat random ones at that (Dedalus during the Pasiphae arc and Hermes on and off - not sure what the inspiration for either of these was) - but it was less noticeable since it was ultimately in the background and the focus was the conflict between Circe and Helios, Pasiphae, etc. In the case of Odysseus it’s much more notable because these subplots cease to appear for a while. As a result of meeting him, Circe decides she wants to experience the joys of motherhood, which long story short eventually leads to the birth of Telegonus, who does exactly what he was famous for. The final arcs have a variety of truly baffling plot twists which didn’t really appeal to me, but which I suppose at least show a degree of creativity - better than just turning Helios’ attitude towards his children upside down for sure. Circe ends up consulting an oc character who I can only describe as “stingray Cthulhu.” His presence doesn’t really add much, and frankly it feels like yet another wasted opportunity to use Hecate, but I digress. Oh, also in another twist Athena is recast as the villain of the Odyssey. Eventually Circe gets to meet Odysseus’ family, for once interacts with another female character on positive terms (with Penelope, to be specific) and… gets together with Telemachus, which to be fair is something present in many ancient works but which feels weird here since there was a pretty long passage about Odysseus describing him as a child to Circe. I think I could live without it. Honestly having her get together with Penelope would feel considerably less weird, but there are no lesbians in the world of this novel. It would appear that the praise for Song of Achilles is connected to the portrayal of gay relationships in it. Can’t say that this applies to Circe - on this front we have an offhand mention of Hyacinth's death. which seems to serve no real purpose other than establishing otherwise irrelevant wind god is evil, and what feels like an advert for Song of Achilles courtesy of Odysseus, which takes less than one page. Eventually Circe opts to become mortal to live with Telemachus and denounces her father and… that’s it. This concludes the story of Circe. I don’t exactly think the original is the deepest or greatest character in classical literature, but I must admit I’d rather read about her wacky witch adventures than about Miller’s Circe. A few small notes I couldn’t fit elsewhere: something very minor that bothered me a lot but that to be honest I don’t think most readers will notice is the extremely chaotic approach to occasional references to the world outside Greece - Sumer is randomly mentioned… chronologically after Babylon and Assyria, and in relation to Persians (or rather - to Perses living among them). At the time we can speak of “Persians” Sumerian was a dead language at best understood by a few literati in the former great cities of Mesopotamia so this is about the same as if a novel about Mesopotamia mentioned Macedonians and then completely randomly Minoans at a chronologically later point. Miller additionally either confused or conflated Perses, son of Perseus, who was viewed positively and associated with Persia (so positively that Xerxes purportedly tried to use it for propaganda purposes!) with Perses the obscure brother of Circe et. al, who is a villain in an equally obscure myth casting Medea as the heroine, in which he rules over “Tauric Chersonese,” the Greek name of a part of Crimea. I am honestly uncertain why was he even there as he amounts to nothing in the book, and there are more prominent minor children of Helios who get no mention (like Aix or Phaeton) so it’s hard to argue it was for the sake of completion. Medea evidently doesn’t triumph over him offscreen which is his sole mythical purpose. Is there something I liked? Well, I’m pretty happy Selene only spoke twice, considering it’s in all due likeness all that spared her from the fate of receiving similarly “amazing” new characterization as her brother. As is, she was… okay. Overall I am definitely not a fan of the book. As for its purported ideological value? It certainly has a female main character. Said character sure does have many experiences which are associated with women. However, I can’t help but think that the novel isn’t exactly feminist - it certainly focuses on Circe, but does it really try to “rehabilitate” her? And is it really “rehabilitation” and feminist reinterpretation when almost every single female character in the book is the same, and arguably depicted with even less compassion than in the source material?  It instead felt like the author’s goal is take away any joy and grandeur present in myths, and to deprive Circe of most of what actually makes her Circe. We don’t need to make myths joyless to make them fit for a new era. It’s okay for female characters to be wacky one off villains and there’s no need to punish them for it. A book which celebrates Circe for who she actually is in the Odyssey and in other Greek sources - an unapologetic and honestly pretty funny character -  would feel much more feminist to me that a book where she is a wacky witch not because she feels like it but because she got raped, if you ask me. 

Circe evidently having the time of her life, by Edmund Dulac (public domain)

[90gemini]

Falling Up 🌇 Steve Rogers x Reader AU

Summary: A meet cute on a morning train between pediatric intern Steve and reader.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: big crowds, just too much fluff ngl

A/N: hope this makes you smile, i really love this AU, might be a part 1 of a whole series:)

Every single morning, as if on cue, approximately two minutes before my train leaves the station near my apartment, I come to the realization that if I do not get into full sprint mode right that second, I will miss my train and then be late to my first class and then have to walk in embarrassed while everyone is already inside and then proceed to feel embarrassed over it the entire day. So, considering the fact that I never seem to make myself leave the house just a few minutes early, for the past three years that I have been going to college, almost every morning I run into the train the last moment before the doors close completely out of breath, and have to subtly work on composing myself much longer than I am comfortable to admit.

Yet today, without even realizing, I got out of my apartment solid seven minutes earlier than usual. My roommate and I were so engaged in our conversation about the events of last nights party so we walked out together still invested in the drama which left me pleasantly surprised with the time I was left to spend before my train leaves after we went our separate ways. The extra time opened a whole lot of opportunities for me, almost made me believe I should wake up earlier every morning and not leave for class at the last possible moment. So, with the 420 extra seconds I got today, I managed to actually dig my earphones out my bag, plug them in and wait for the train with the sounds of my morning playlist filling my mind.

Inside the train, when I wasn’t preoccupied by catching my breath but also, even more importantly, focusing on not making it too obvious I was out of my breath, I became very much aware of my surroundings, noticing everything and everyone around me.

There was a girl sitting down right across from where I was standing, she looked about my age and she held a little baby in her arms, slowly rocking it and I noticed the way she was looking totally spent but the moment her baby made this cute laughing sound, a smile spread on her face completely overshadowing the exhaustion in her eyes. Next to the door was an older woman not so subtly judging everyone who was sitting down and has not offered her to sit and right next to the door was a man sitting down and sleeping like a log. I had the urge to wake him up and ask him when he has to get down or if he has already missed his stop, but in all honesty, it was too early in the morning for me to be considerate like that. While continuing to carelessly look around, my eyes landed on something that opened drawers in my memory I did not even know existed.

It was a book cover. A simple white background featuring a boy with frizzy hair who was flying over a drawn-on city with the words ‘Falling Up’ in the middle. So many moments of my dad reading poems from that book to me before bed when I was a kid came up and instantly forced a smile on my face.

In my head, I started reciting the words to my favorite poem from that book, remembering my dad teaching me how to read with those poems when my eyes fell on the arm holding the book and the man attached to it.

And God, was I thankful for the boosted-up heating in the train this morning because that made him take off his leather jacket and throw it over his arm, leaving only a thin, too tight white shirt to cover his upper body and it worked amazing for me that the shirt wasn’t doing its job well.

I heard the sound of the door opening and saw way too many people try to make their way into the train making it way more crowded which pushed the mystery man to move closer to me. Not as close as I wanted though.

My mind was focused solely on him that at one point I wasn’t even aware what station we were at and have I maybe missed mine, but I found myself not caring at all. The point my eyes landed on his face I was basically addicted. His hair was a gorgeous mess, a bit outgrown but looking so good. And, oh my God, his eyes. I was so upset I am only seeing them under the fluorescent light of the subway because I am positive that it would be an out of body experience seeing them under the sunlight.

At that moment I was sure he was the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on and was already cursing myself because I knew I was too nervous to talk to him and will regret that forever.

His lips would occasionally move into a small, barely noticeable grin while he was reading and every once in a while, his tongue would go over his lips leaving them all full and glistening which led to a whole new set of unholy thoughts entering my brain. And his fingers, the way he flipped over the pages was just so-

‘’May I help you somehow?’’ I was snapped out of my trance by his voice and met his eyes that were looking into mine with the coldest, most unimpressed expression as if he was in front of the most annoying person to ever grace the Earth.

‘’Shit, sorry,’’ I apologized quietly and pulled out one earphone to hear him better because no matter how rude it looks he is going to be right now, his voice was just heavenly. ‘’I zoned out when I saw that book.’’ I pointed to the book in his hand and his eyes followed the direction my finger was showing as if he was surprised I wasn’t staring at him but at the book. I was most definitely staring at him though, but I don’t plan on revealing that. ‘’My dad used to read it to me when I was a kid so just seeing the cover brought back too many memories. Sorry.’’ I said in a soft voice and gave him a forced smile hoping he was not going to talk to me again because I really don’t want to be yelled at by the most attractive man alive at 7.23am on a Tuesday in the subway.

‘’You know this book?’’ his voice broke the short-lived silence between us, making my head snap up to look at him again and I was met with a much softer face adorning an adorable smile. ‘’You must think I’m so weird for reading poetry for children.’’ He let out a small laugh which was, without exaggeration, the greatest sound I have ever heard in my life.

‘’No, I think it’s cute.’’ A sly smirk found its way on my face as I felt my usual confidence come back now that I knew he wasn’t planning on yelling at me.

‘’So, you think I’m cute?’’ The smirk on his lips, on the other hand, was not as subtle as mine was as he turned more towards me, quickly closing the book and focusing his eyes on my face.

‘’I didn’t say one thing about you being cute, I was talking about the book.’’ I lied to keep my cool even though cute truly wasn’t the first word that came to my mind when looking at him. It would be something more in the neighborhood of I-would-drop-on-my-knees-for-you-right-this-momentor whatever.

‘’Okay, so you don’t think I am cute?’’ he leaned closer and licked his lips instantly sending shivers down my spine. This man is too much for me to handle right now.‘’Because I think you are really cute.’’ He whispered loudly enough only for me to hear and moved away a bit to fully appreciate my flustered expression because he obviously was aware of the exact effect he had on me.

‘’Well, I guess you aren’t that bad yourself.’’ The fact that I was not literally falling apart in front of this god cosplaying as a man is still not something I can understand. ‘’And thank you.’’ Saying that my voice got super quiet, and I could see him grin proudly at my reaction.

‘’You are welcome,’’ he didn’t finish that sentence and looked at me asking for my name.

‘’Y/n.’’

‘’Y/n.’’ he repeated and stepped closer to me with an excuse of letting someone else pass and giving them space. ‘’That is a real pretty name.’’ I smiled to say thank you and looked at my feet for a second to get myself together.

I didn’t even run to catch this train yet I’m still out of breath.

‘’I am Steve by the way.’’ He stretched out his free hand in my direction but not for one second broke the eye contact between us. ‘’It’s so nice to meet you, Y/n.’’ God, just to hear him say my name was killing me.

‘’Nice to meet you too, Steve.’’ I connected my hand with his much larger one and was painfully aware of the fact he must have heard the soft sound I made the second my skin first touched his.

‘’So,’’ he continued while slowly pulling his hand from mine. ‘’do you like poetry in general, ‘’he lifted the arm with the book and nodded towards it. ‘’or is it just this one book you like?’’ he asked with so much interest in his voice making me absolutely thrilled he was keeping the conversation going.

‘’I love poetry.’’ I kept my answer short because forming decent sentences was a though job while looking at this man and seeing the way he was looking at me.

‘’What kind?’’ he adjusted in his spot somehow that he was even closer to me, leaving basically no space between us, yet to everyone else it seemed normal because the morning rush in the New York City subway never was famous for the spaciousness.

‘’About love.’’ I said softly and witnessed his expression changing from the cocky, overconfident one he had on, to a completely soft one.

‘’Same here.’’ He replied and as if he can do it on cue, looked even more deeply into my eyes. ‘’I like reading about how people feel things I have never felt, it lets me to feel the emotion without risking being hurt.’’ He confessed to me and I couldn’t believe a guy that has such a hard exterior is ready to share that much emotion after talking to a stranger in a train for only a few minutes. But I was thanking all the gods he was.

‘’That’s much deeper than my reason for loving it.’’ A small smile appeared on his face as he looked at me to continue. ‘’I just like reading about love and watching movies about love and basically everything about love. Makes me feel all warm around the heart.’’ He let out a small laugh reminding me why it’s my new favorite sound. ‘’That must sound so cheesy.’’

‘’I don’t think it’s cheesy. I think like it is really nice to love love.’’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘’It’s cute.’’

‘’So you are calling me cute?’’ I looked at him with a raised eyebrow as he let out a huff once again leaning all into my personal space.

‘’I am. I have once before too.’’ He whispered near my ear and I know he knew just what he was doing to me.

‘’What poets do you like the most?’’ he moved away leaving me upset over not feeling his breath on my neck anymore.

‘’I don’t read a lot in English.’’ I fumbled with the edge of my jacket and lowered my eyes to focus on my boots because his face was way too distracting. ‘’My dad is not from here and I got the gene for loving poetry from him so most of the things I read are in his mother tongue because it’s really the only way to keep myself from forgetting it.‘’ Making a mental note to call my dad tonight because it’s been too long, I suddenly became extremely aware that I am sharing so many personal information about me with a random man I met on the subway. ‘’So yeah, most of the poets I read, never got international fame so you unfortunately didn’t have a chance to hear of them.’’ I felt a dash of electricity go through my body when he put his hand under my chin tilting it up so we can once again face each other.

‘’Don’t hide that gorgeous face doll.’’ Dear Lord, I can’t believe I might actually die on a train because of a hot, poetry reading guy. ‘’I’d love to read some of that poetry you like if it is translated.’’

‘’I don’t know if any of it is translated but you can check, I can write down some of the names for you.’’ I said quickly really happy that he wants to read something I will recommend, still recovering from that ‘gorgeous’ comment.

‘’I don’t have anything you can write it on, we can just-‘’

‘’Oh, I have a piece of paper to write it on to, it’s no problem.’’ I interrupted him while flashing him another smile and started digging through my bag for pen and a paper only to have his hand stop mine making me look at him with confusion written all over my face.

‘’I was thinking something more in the lines of you writing your number in my phone,’’ he took his phone out his pocket and directed it at me. ‘’then I can text you and we can meet up so you can tell me more about those poets and maybe translate some for me on the spot if you want to.’’ The smile was evident on his face when I took the phone out his hand and started writing my number into it.

‘’I would really like that, Steve.’’ I gave him his phone back with a smile a bit too big for the cool persona I was trying to present myself as.

‘’Well, I am really looking forward to it, Y/n.’’ he returned the big smile and focused his eyes on my face once again.

‘’Can I ask you something?’’ I looked at him curiously.

‘’Anything, doll.’’

That nickname is going to kill me.

‘’How come you are reading poetry for children?’’ he left out a chuckle and gazed over the book in his hand.

‘’There are two reasons, actually.’’ He shifted from one leg to another and started talking kind of nervously. ‘’Firstly, this book is something I always come back to for some reason. My grandma bought it for me when I was just a kid and I reread it for too many times, so I always go back to it because it’s safe. Something like playing Friends in the background because there is nothing else to watch but it always makes you feel good, you know?’’ I nodded and he continued. ‘’Second is that currently I am interning at the pediatric wing at the hospital downtown and kids love me reading these poems to them so I always find a few I think they would like the most when I am getting to work in the morning.’’

‘’That is really amazing, Steve.’’ I put my hand on his forearm and looked at him with so much affection in my eyes. ‘’Those kids must feel really special having you read to them, it’s really heartwarming you do that even though you don’t have to.’’

‘’They are going through too much shit, if I can make it any better for them, I will.’’ How pathetic is it that talking about kids with this guy I met literally minutes ago, makes me think about having his kids?

‘’That is really too sweet.’’ I had plans on saying so much more to him, but I heard the automatic voice announce how my station is next. ‘’Shit I have to go; this is my stop.’’

‘’Oh.’’ He said and I swear I could hear some disappointment in his voice. ‘’I guess I will see you again?’’ he asked as if he is not sure if that is going to happen.

‘’You most definitely will see me again.’’ I looked at him fondly again and I don’t even know what force gave me the confidence to do so, but before making my way to the door I got on my tip toes and kissed his cheek.

‘’Bye, Steve. See you soon.’’ I said while walking away from him but still keeping my eyes on his as I saw him put his hand on the place I kissed him with a small smile on his face.

‘’See you soon, Y/n.’’ Was the last thing I heard before exiting the train, completely sure that I won’t be able to focus today in class.

But I don’t mind.

really hope you enjoyed this, any comment on it would truly mean a lot!<3

[sunflowerfoxboy-unused]

Hi, I am Micaela (at least that's the name my parents gave me), and I am not sure about literally anything related to my identity. I'm not very sure about how this works, but I thought you may be able to help(?

Ok first of all I'm afab and even though I don't feel really disphoric ab my body, I do feel a little uncomfortable when people call me "mujer", for example (I live in a spanish speaking country).

I got to think that I maybe could be an nb person, but it still felt a little weird. I haven't discarded it yet, though, since it could be bc I'm not used to the idea.

(Could you please do a pronoun check with the name Mica and pronouns they/them? Some facts about myself: I am really passionate about music in general, but I more specifically really enjoy singing and listening to whatever I feel like listening at the moment. I also love reading and literature in general, though I don't really have the time to focus on this. I do not like running or swimming (like, at all), but I've been trying to lear a little swimming bc ik it's important. Whst else can I say... I have three dogs and they are sooo cute. Um, please mention me as a nonbinary person. I hope that's enough info lol.)

I also thought that I may be just a cis woman who wants to be smth else to make herself interesting (which is pretty sad), but idk.

I even got to consider that I might be a man, but they've got me a little traumatized and it's just really hard to even imagine myself as one (I'm just talking about my personal experience, but still I'm sorry if I made anyone feel ofended on any way).

I don't usually feel comfy wearing very femenine clothes, but sometimes I feel like it so I put on a cute outfit and go somewhere wearing it, and then regret doing it after some minutes. But this could ALSO not have anything to do with gender, so as you can see I'm a confused pile of teenager material. Help me please.

My sexual orientation is a whole mystery as well, but that woul make this way too long, so I'm just gonna sent it like this and, yeah.

Oh I would also appreciate if you could make some more pronoun checks for me, with the same info than the one above but changing a few things :)

1- the one above

2- changing the pronouns for she/they but keeping it nb

3- same as #2 but with she/her

4- same but with he/him

5- same but with he/they

6- keeping they/them but using whatever genders you think might suit me (on different paragraphs please)

7- the same as #6 but with she/they

8- same but with she/her

9- same but with he/him

10- same but with he/they

11- changing the gender to a girl

12- everything again but with Micaela instead of Mica (I'm sorry), and if you can think of a similar name that would sound good in spanish please tell me as well (it's not necessary to make more pronoun checks with that variation, I'm not that mean).

Okay sorry those are a lot of requests, feel free to take your time.

Of course, I will link some feminine/female genders, that I am not sure are in spanish, feel free to check them out!

Mica came by and told me they are non-binary, I didn't know so I asked them about and Mica was very nice. They also use they/them now, so please remember that

I told them she owed some guy money, but they asked me if he was against non-binary people. I realized Mica was scared. I went for them and helped her come out to a random guy. Starts are starts!

Mica got her new coat! She planned she write some poems on it. I told her to just be calm and write as a start, she also showed me some nice art she found. It has non-binary stuff, and I think she is non-binary?

He has a nice voice, also I heard that he goes by Mica, so I need to update his biography. He doesn't know I'm writing his non-binary life to help progression. With his premission.

Mica has made some nice music with me, he has this voice and I told them I know some cello. We made a nice poem-like song, but he wants to try more. Just drabbles, but they could make a career out of it.

6a. They are a demigirl, I asked Mica what is demigirl? They just said that it's when one is part girl or part feminine. They helped me a lot with some other stuff, but Mica is also feeling better. Not so feverish.

6b.They are making a story about paragirls like themself, and I feel like Mica is doing well. They are making me realize I may not be demigender, but I didn't tell them. Maybe later I'll tell Mica?

7a. She got some nice stuff, but I saw a demigirl flag and they shooshed me out? I won't tell her parents, I know they may not like it. I know Mica thinks your safe. Yea, Mica, I was talking about her the whole time.

7b.They came and said that she uses paragirl now, so I know they are ok with stuff like that. She has some knowledge on me, but how much do they know? Mica knows I'm trans and that's it? I should tell her I'm queer too!

8a.I saw her play piano, and she made the song sound like she was saying demigirl, which is her gender right? Anyway, I know she uses she/her, so I'm safe with pronouns. Mica use any new names?

8b.I know she has a dog, but I saw two dogs! Did she get a new dog or did the coming out make me forgot the color of them? Oh, she has 3 dogs. Ok, also Mica told me to tell you she a paragirl.

9a.He got some ncie heels, he told me to get him a newspaper? I think he is watching news more, wait wait, he told me he would make a letter about demigirls like him with newpapers. Mica is just a smart demigirl eh?

9b.I swore I saw him dancing to some song, he should dance more. I know where he is makes him worried, but Mica is missing out. Being a paragirl probably brings problems when girls vs boys comes up, but he could figure it out right?

10a.They have a new skateboard, and he made sure to paint it demigirl colors, which sound nice as frick. They asked if wanted him to paint me one but I don't mind. Mica does enough for themself alone!

10b.I got him, Mica by the way, a new dog sweater. They always want me to make them some, and I do get free dog pictures of the his cute dogs, but I want Mica to learn so I get them for free.

11a.She is just a girl with a hecking voice, I want Mica to get choir classes, but they say no. I respect her choice like their everything, but I am wanting to push this on her.

11b.I gave her a good, time. Made sure she felt like the girl she was. I learned she liked music so I got her some singers stuff. She also is getting some books soon from me.

11c.I told them that they are what they say, but they have been worried about over phone stuff. I think they said they want people to call them a girl and use they/them? I didn't have time to help them.

11d.He got a new book, and he said he has his dogs learning some words. I taught his dogs 'girl' and that Mica was a good girl, so they understood he was. Mica is nice to his dogs.

11e.I made sure they had fun, he got called a girl but they say it's ok, so maybe he is fine with girl? I want to wait until they comfirm it but just a update on him.

For 12 I decided to make a few paragraphs, no gender mentions. I hope it works in place for time for use both!

She got a new name, Micaela, and I know she will make it sound nice! I think she also spells it with a c, not a k, so be careful when spelling her name.

They have a letter written to a classmate you need to carry for me, but Micaela should have written Micaela on it. If you lose it they are after me.

He has some swim gear, and Micaela has wrote his name on it? I don't know why, but I want him to feel safe here, so if Micaela seems scared please ask him if he is.

Madra is a spanish name for girls that sounds nice, but maybe Micaela could work in spanish? I think it can be pronounced fine, but I only took a spanish class two years ago and know nothing anymore, so I am not the best. Monica also sounds nice

As for gender troubles, I had been questioning for a long time. I think exploring all base things is a good thing to do first: like all pronouns you know, etc. The gender bible is a nice place to look especially for dysphoria. Demigirl and Paragirl are gender identitys that are part feminine, and honestly those seem like good starting places. If you go through many labels that's ok!

https://gender.fandom.com/wiki/Demigirl and https://www.lgbtqia.wiki/wiki/Paragirl

[aikrus]

What It Means To Be Dead (Tokoyami x Reader)

Fandom: Bnha Warnings: Mentions of Dying, depression, bullying, abuse, and strong language Words: 2k259 Requested By: Anon <3 Request:  Hi I love your writing! Can I request one where Tokoyami )or anyone you'd like really,) finds a collection of old-ish diaries and letters while cleaning? The person's handwriting is very distinct and pretty (Think 1700's love letter find) but they never mention their name. As they read more of it they find newer entries where Aizawa is mentioned so they ask him about it only to find out the person who wrote them died almost 100 years ago and 'haunts' the school. (Sorry for long request) A/N: I deviated a little from the request, but I hope you like it!

            The night had already came and claimed the land of UA for itself. Shadows overtook the courtyards, and darkness fell across the classrooms, but not everyone had retreated to the safety of their comforters which shielded them from the secrets which the black abyss held so dear. 

After a draining day of learning and training, Tokoyami wanted nothing more than to go to sleep- sadly, it was his turn to clean the classroom. It was annoying and boring and he’d give anything to be able to go to sleep, but fair is fair and he wasn’t the tyrannical type.

And so, he washed the windows and wiped down the desks. He swept the floors and organized the textbooks, and he turned to put the broom back into the small closet in the corner of the classroom. With a heavy sigh, Fumikage realized he should probably tidy up the dirty, dust-filled, death trap that was called a broom closet. 

Narrowing his eyes at the cobwebs, he started to knock them down with the end of the broomstick (Seriously praying to whatever god there is that no spider fell onto his feathers). The room was in worse condition on closer inspection, it looked like not a soul had thought to clean it since the school was built. 

After taking the time to sweep the floors, wipe down the door and the counters, and organize the books, Tokoyami was beyond tired and ready to fall asleep in the still-somehow-dirty closet. No matter how many times he swung at the cobwebs, how many times he picked up the coats and books and papers on the floor, despite the effort he put into tidying up the smallish space, it still seemed to have a weird layer of age coating itself entirely.

The closet felt preserved in time, like the oldness it felt was not just in the items littered about, but in the very walls itself. The things it’s seen, the memories it held, something about the space simply felt... wrong. 

He turned to a corner he hadn’t worked on, inwardly groaning at the amount of work he still had to do despite the time of night. With a huff, he began to organize the textbooks and pages of work sprawled around the space. 

His hands fell upon and old leather book- very different in both appearance and age when compared to the marble notebooks that surrounded it. Leaning over, he saw ten to fifteen more of there journal like collections shoved deep into the corner of the room. 

Tentatively, he peeled open the first book. Looking at the pages, it looked to be the diary of a girl- the beautiful handwriting looked like it belonged to someone who saw the beauty that exists within the written language, someone who stops to smell the flowers, a person who looks at sunsets and bakes goods to say they love you. 

The ink that bled onto the early pages spoke of a student, a girl who wanted to be so much more, someone who wanted to save the world. He became enthralled by the speech patterns, the phrases and swirls of the letters drew him closer, enchanting his eyes to never leave the pages.

------ 

Soon the pages became all he could think about, even after he had to abandon the closet to race to bed. During class all he could think of was the feeling of the crisp paper under his touch. The voices of his friends seemed ugly, seemed to be missing the douse of honesty and beauty he had been exposed to, even when he was practicing all he could focus on was the experiences of the girl who wrote down all her inner thoughts. 

It was like she haunted him, appearing everywhere he went. Like she poisoned him, infecting his thoughts and feelings. She became everything to him so soon, every word had him on edge, every sentence a beautiful stream of imagery that he would give nothing but to experiencing along side her, what he wouldn’t give to see the world through her eyes of love.

As the day ended, he had quiet easily convinced Sero that he should take over his night of cleaning. Sure the actual work was quiet annoying, but he would be rewarded with her sweet words, he had left the book in the corner in his rush to get back to his dorm; he regretted his oversight the moment he laid down.

“Tokoyami, wasn’t your cleaning duty last night?” Aizawa asked, his eyes lazy looking up from the papers he was grading to make contact with Fumikage’s red ones. 

“Yes sir, it was. I volunteered to take over tonight as well,” 

“Mhm, and is there a reason for this?” He raised his eyebrow, dragging his briefcase off the table with him. 

“Cleaning helps me think,” this wasn’t a total lie, reading the journal will calm his raging thoughts of the mystery girl. 

“Just don’t make a habit of it,” his teacher echoed, not having enough energy to further investigate a seemingly innocent interaction.

Tokoyami was much faster with cleaning that day, and he was even faster to sprint inside the broom closet. He grabbed the leather books and raced back to his room, already feeling the warmth her voice provided. 

------------------------------

The passages started off innocent enough, complaints about school, fantasizing about a better life, just a teen writing down their emotions. It then morphed into the beauty in everything, words that didn’t release Fumikage’s eyes until they were tearing up from dryness. 

Then, things took a darker turn. Dark thoughts disguised in poems, things others have said to her, representation of her pain in drawings scattered throughout the book. The beautiful world- though still majestic in its own way- turned dark and twisted.

It was painful to read, and yet he couldn’t look away. It was like the book became a part of him- no. It was like he became a part of the book, nothing more than the cracked parchment and spilled ink. It was dehumanizing, but he wouldn’t change his position for anything in the world.

His bed was taken over by the old pages, dating back over two hundred years ago. The writer was in the post-quirk awakening. The world had just discovered the glowing child right before she was born. She was one of the first quirk holders in the world- one of the first one hundred Japanese citizens to have a quirk.

The journals started when she was ten- though that book was the fifth one he read. After that discovery, he categorized them in chronological order to read along with the flow of time. She wrote of the manifestation of her quirk- her parents had been struck with terror when their daughter walked through the wall of their living room to get into her bedroom. 

That was the first moment she realized how different she is. Her life never seemed to go back to the way it was before, not even after the initial shock of what she could do faded from her parents; because, there would always be a new shock, a new ability, and no one was prepared to help her.

He realized, reading more about how the quirkless treated her, that her life would have been much different is she had lived in his time. Hearing the slurs and bullying they  put her through, he wishes she could see how much the world has changed- would she be happy or sad that her bully's became the minority and were mocked in their normal-ness or if she would be ashamed of the people like her.

He was very satisfied that the people who made her life so awful were getting a taste of their own medicine, but he did wonder if that made him a bad person. Tokoyami figures that it really didn’t matter, she was gone so her opinion would never be known. 

--------------------

“Death didn’t feel like I thought it would. Surprisingly, it was reminiscent of when I use my quirk to posses things or people. My body was there, on the floor, but I was floating above it. Much like I am when I leave my body before finding my target. The cold was instantly recognizable- like an abyss with no end.

The only difference I’ve noticed so far is the lack of body to return to, though I can enter it, it acts as an object. While I cannot move it, I can see out of it. It’s therapeutic in a way. Really, this must have been the best case scenario- I could see how everyone reacts, see who really cares about me.

It was hard at first, seeing all theses people, who I believed were simply pretending to care, braking down behind closed doors. It was only my sister- whom held no quirk- that cared. She did everything she could to make my funeral how I wanted it, and she preserved my bedroom the way I liked it. That was a nice gesture, it truly was. 

Now my life has come to an end- my body buried under ground, never to be seen again- I can’t help but wonder what comes next. How long will I be held in this mortal world? Will others be like me, or will I be forced to live alone in the agonizing realization that comes with immortality? I guess I’ll simply have to wait and see,”

-----------------------

He had fallen asleep after reading the last passage in the ninth book- where she described how she stayed a student at UA even after death. The names she referenced had been lost in time- Pro-heroes that have long been dead and are now another name on the Hero Memorial wall. 

She had possessed her home room teacher and walked to the headmaster- there she said what had happened. Her headmaster agreed to keep her on as a student, but only under the condition that she wouldn’t unnecessarily possess an unknowing student. It was fair- annoying but fair. They gave her her old desk and she worked along side everyone. When he woke up, the book had moved on its own. 

There was a page opened- an elegant scipt sprawllled at the top but had been smuged since it was written- the only elligable part following what could be assumed to be a name: Phatom-- The Ghost Hero. The script was familiar, but it wasn’t the handwriting the rest of the journal was written in. Beneath it was a drawing of a girl- a girl more beautiful than anyone Fumikage had ever seen. It was a realistic depiction and it looked modern- it was only with that realization which led Tokoyomi to realize this journal wasn’t one he had seen before. Flipping through it, he hadn’t even noticed its sudden appearance. It was the newest one of them all- spanning for the last decade.  He leaned back in his bed and began,

So I guess it’s been a while huh? Here are some general updates: Shouta from class 2-A is an idiot but I guess he’s kinda cute. We picked out hero names today, I wanted to just keep my name but he dubbed me Phantom.. I called him Eraserhead in return. I hope it sticks. 

I’ve graduated from UA more than six times now- but I kinda like it. I do some professional hero work- especially info recall- but I’m worried about how the public will react to a ghost. It would definitely fuck with some peoples religious views. 

It’s better this way. I’ve also decided to distance myself from Shinso- she and I got along great, but her twin brother has been acting weirdly around me for a while. His quirk is amazing, but I’ve seen plenty of unstable students pass through these halls and I know enough to keep my distance. Shouta doesn’t seem to agree- neither does Hizashi. I guess only time will tell.

As for manifesting my physical form- it’s a lot harder than I had hoped. I can become visual for three active minutes or ten minutes with no moving. I’m still not touchable, but I hope that will change with time. That’s all for now- I’ll try to check in soon.

He shook his head- surely those names must be common, but she was in UA and only so many coincidences can happen at one time. He wonders how she was now. Mostly, he wonders if she’s still at UA. They hadn’t announced her as a student, so was she a pro hero now? 

Was it weird to still be in the body of a sixteen year old? There were so many issues with immortality- he wondered how she coped with it. These questions abused him throughout the morning. He thought of how lonely she must be, how it must be so awful to be all by herself.

He wondered why he cared so much- why had he developed such a strong scene of attachement to this girl? The fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw the drawing of the girl had taken up his entire mind- he needed to know more.

As soon as he entered his familiar class room he marched straight up to his teachers desk with passion in his eyes- “Professor, can we talk after class? I have some questions I’d like to ask you,”

Aizawa glarred at the corner of the room, an annoyed frown tugging at his lips. This was gonna be a long day.

-------------------

A/N 

Sorry for dropping off the planet everyone! This has been in the drafts for a  long time and finally gets to see the light of day. I’ve had some mental health issues (not related to this story don’t worry) and am working on myself. I fully intend to finish the Christmas countdown I committed to and this account is still active, but this will remain on the back burner until I am well on my way to recovery. Requests will remain open for the time being and I will continue to make progress. Thank you for the lovely anon’s in my inbox with constant support and requests, I appreciate all of you. Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed this work <3