#this didn’t correlate with anything specifically bad happening to me either

[pjharvey-moved]

i have less of all of those dreams now bc im on ptsd medication 👍🏻 i don’t even think those dreams were bc of ptsd though i think i have like an unusually vivid dream disorder that’s yet to be described by science i say that in full seriousness

[butwhatifidothis]

I also think that part of the reason why the church gets so much hate is because of how much general distrust there is in organized religion in real life. Like I went into Three Houses trying to keep an open mind and during White Clouds I really couldn't see what was so heinously wrong with the church even during the Lonato thing that made the institution so much worse than what Edelgard was inciting. I could be totally wrong but I was under the impression that Rhea didn't squash the insurrection because they were a part of the Western Church but because they were actively rebelling and, on top of that, Lonato was bringing civilians into the conflict. That, along with the fact that Rhea knows for an absolute fact that the goddess existed and that she herself is old as dirt (trauma included) makes her decisions make a lot of sense.

I'm playing through AM with my friend who's never played before and they IMMEDIATELY said they distrusted the church because Jeralt doesn't like Rhea (for understandable reasons but my friend also ignored his very sus behavior of not explaining literally anything to Byleth) and because organized religions must be inherently bad.

It’s something that’s heavily related to a player’s inability to separate the reality of their specific circumstances with those of the fiction they’re consuming. They implant their experiences onto things that are only somewhat related and then extrapolate “facts” about the fiction that are, many times, actively shut down and/or disproven by that fictions lore or story or plot.

And, like, it’s normal to relate fictional things to your personal stories if you see connections to them. I’d wager a good amount of people find some aspect of a character they like/love that sticks out to them specifically because of a similarity they share of some kind, whether big or small. I know of people who’s fave superhero is The Flash because The Flash is fast and they ran track and hey, that’s cool, a superhero who’s ability is running really fuckin’ fast and I wanna be really fuckin’ fast. To use myself as an example, I can relate to the struggles Claude specifically has with race because many of the things he says correlate very well to my personal experiences with race. So, going by that line of logic, the opposite is clearly going to happen as well; there are many villains, or characters of either or neither allegiance towards good and evil, who have traits that personally affect someone in a negative way.

But here’s the thing about that... Claude and I have similar experiences with race. He’s still a prince, and I’m still someone who’s never seen above the poverty line in terms of income. He’s never had to live off a box of Whoppers he happened to find under his bed for three days to hold off until the food stamps come in because there’s just no food and no money to get any food. And on the flip side, I’ve never had people try to kill me just cuz I’m mixed. I’ve never felt the pressure of having to lead thousands of people to safety or have them die, directly due to my inability to lead them well enough. We still have extremely different lives and I can acknowledge those differences when looking into his character, regardless of whatever connection I may have with him otherwise, and that’s where these people fail in terms of critically consuming 3H as a piece of media.

These people - understandably, to an extent - look at Rhea, this devout religious woman who heads a major religious institution, and they automatically connect the language she uses as a devout religious person to the negative experiences they personally had with religion... without acknowledging the differences between the two. They see Rhea and they don’t see a bisexual who surrounds herself with and gives shelter to former criminals, foreigners, and people in need of a home while asking for little in return - they see their local pastor, or some other religious leader/person, who’ve done them wrong, and thus Rhea hates gay people, she hates POC, she’s a zealot and unreasonable and she’s this terrible person with no redeeming qualities. And this isn’t me arm-chair psychology-ing these people - they poke fun at themselves about how much they let their personal experiences cloud their judgement of the game and its characters with bingo cards for liking Edelgard having “raised with religion” be one of the slots and things like that. 

And really, why else would “religious institution led by white-presenting race of people” be automatically turned into “racist, homophobic, misogynistic, and violent to any who aren’t their religion” when 1) one of the main characters - the one calling Rhea racist - himself eventually says that racial diversity fits well and snug in the Seiros faith, 2) not only is the leader and founder of the religion a bisexual woman, but no one says anything about having their love be confined to one specific gender anywhere, with heavily coded LGBT relationships like Shamir+Catherine and Dorothea+Petra being just as LGBT coded in SS - where Rhea can potentially come back as archbishop - as anywhere else - hell, when one of the most devout followers of Rhea clearly is romantically interested in her and faces no repercussions or consequences for openly being so despite being female herself, and 3) the Church only ever uses violence when either called from the outside for help or forced to when outside forces try to attack them? Why are we hearing all of these awful things about the Church when it sometimes is never even implied? 

It’s in large part due to religion being such a sensitive part of people’s lives that they are unable to disconnect their personal experiences with religion with the fictional religion the media they’re interacting with provides them. Rhea, as a devout religious leader, especially with how genuinely morally gray she is, was never going to land well over here in the west, double especially to an audience of people that very clearly are already inclined to ignore pieces of the game’s story, lore, plot, and character interactions to fit their own preferred version of what’s happening. Triple fuckin’ wombo-combo especially since the game itself fails to do Rhea any favors until the literal last second of two out of four routes and only shove in her directly admitting she was wrong in her actions in the hardest support chain to build up in the entire game, and even then only at the last part of it. Poor girly didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell

[fatphobiabusters]

“I’m literal proof HAES is a myth because one specific time weight loss helped me with one specific thing assuming of course correlation equals causation,” reminds me of people who are like “Global warming doesn’t exist because it’s cold where I live right now.” Like…that kind of logic is so embarrassingly flawed.

Lol exactly.

This might get a little rambly so bare with me:

I'll always be glad people get help for pain or what have you, but it's almost, selfish?, to think everyone is going to respond exactly the same to whatever a individual does.

Like, with any advice we give here, there is a understanding with really deep and intense issues that we can only share either what's worked personally or what we read and that its not a garentee anything will work. People are so unique and are all on different stages of an issue. I'm not gonna say, for instance, exposure therapy is bad, just because I don't need it.

With HAES and other fat groups and philosophies, people are so invested in their old fat hating world views that they can't think, "maybe I'm the outliner? Maybe I didn't *want* to change the way I think" because something new is scary no matter how benign. Better the devil you know, than the angel you don't. So people almost feel relieved that contrary evidence exists even if it's so individually based. They don't have to confront their deep held bigotry.

Of course, when enough individuals experience something it's a statistic, a reflection of lots of lived experiences but given the data avaliable? On weight loss and health that we have? Outliners.

(If they even are actually successful. 10+ years is a minimum I'd be looking out for on data on situations like this.

Also, since last time I forgot to mention this, but no one has to be healthy nor can be healthy and that's okay, again, everyone is so unique. Its totally fair to critic HAES for its health centric material, but to scoff at the very idea and conceot that someone can be fat and healthy is Fatphobic, because those people do exist, the assumption that fat = unhealthy is almost purposely ignorant at this point. And to pretend like rare outlines that just so happen to reinforce previously held negative world views are enough to discredit anything, especially meta data, is laughable.)

[writer-ish]

grace (Mason x f!Detective)

Some of you may know my new co-obsession (along with @playchoices) is @seraphinitegames‘ The Wayhaven Chronicles and one (1) grumpy Greek vampire in particular.

Anyway, this little drabble was in my head after completing the Book 3 Demo for the millionth time and now you all need to be subjected to it as well. Enjoy? (Takes place sometime after Book 2, but before “that scene” in Book 3)

tags: @utterlyinevitable , @ethansramsey , @otherworldlypresents , @aworldoffandoms , @raleighcarrera , @ejunkiet , @starrystarrytrouble , @terrm9 (reply or dm for add/removal!)

grace

Pairing: Mason x f!Detective (Grace Bennett) Length: 3.2k words | Rating: T (Language) Summary: A detective and a vampire try not to catch feelings for one another OR denial is not just a river in Egypt. 

“It only ever works if one of you cares more than the other.”

It was something Tina had said once, in a rare, cynical moment, fresh off a break up.

The two of them had gone out for drinks post-patrol one night and, as the evening wore on, Tina’s mood had descended in direct correlation with the growing number of empty glasses around them. Still, it hadn’t been until the cigarettes came out that Grace had really known they were in trouble.

“Trust me, Gracie.” Her friend had punctuated her words with haphazard gestures, cigarette wobbling precariously between two fingers, a fine dusting of ash drifting down to the table. Taking a drag, she’d released a thick plume of smoke from her mouth and nostrils before continuing.

“There’s no such thing as equal when it comes to love. There is always the giver and the receiver. The one who cares more. Who loves more. And—”

At this, she’d pointed the glowing ember at the end of her cigarette right in Constable Grace Bennett’s face.

“—You better hope it’s them and not you.”

Former Constable, now Detective Grace Bennett hadn’t thought about those words much in the subsequent years. Relationships weren’t really her forte, after all. There had been the disastrous two years in college with Bobby — in hindsight, one could hardly attribute “love” to anything that had happened between them — and, more recently, a few first dates that sometimes turned into second dates before fizzling out completely.

Hardly the stuff of romance novels.

So it was unfortunate that Tina’s old advice had chosen to rear its ugly head in her mind now, of all times, when Grace had found herself in a—situation where love was the absolute last thing she wanted to consider.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about Mason. Of course she did.

What else would you call almost incurring the wrath of an entire civilization of ancient Estonian mirror creatures at the expense of saving his miserable life?

It was just that things were...

Complicated.

Leaning against her beat-up silver hatchback, she willed the pounding of her heart to settle as the night spring air enveloped her in its cool breeze. She took deep and even breaths in and out of her nostrils, contemplating just how complicated things were, exactly.

First of all, wasn’t dating a colleague generally frowned upon?

Grace had never broken that rule in all her years on the force and she hadn’t had any intention of doing it as a detective, either, never mind as part of her mother’s top secret supernatural government agency.

Not only that, but what if said colleague had also made it abundantly clear, in more ways than one, that they weren’t looking for anything exclusive or serious in any capacity?

Had, in fact, made it a point to preface almost every sexual encounter with some variation of those very words?

And to even further complicate matters, what if said commitment-phobe colleague also happened to be supernatural themselves? More specifically, a vampire who was a few years shy of his centennial?

What then?

And yet — bear with her, here — let’s say, said commitment-phobe centenarian vampire colleague also looked at her as though she were the only human on this planet that he gave a damn about, the only one who could make his smile curl up on both sides, the only one who warmed those steel-grey eyes into molten embers, the one who—

Her train of thought cut off abruptly as she heard the doors open to the police station. There was a thick fog cutting the night air, the warmth of the day lazily giving way to the coolness of the night, imparting an almost dream-like quality onto an otherwise ordinary parking lot.

Grace waited, peering through the haze, until the object of her musings appeared. His unruly dark waves swung around his cheeks, just barely brushing his collarbone as he stalked towards her, hands buried deep in his pockets. His shoulders were hunched up close to his ears, which she knew was scant protection from the cold he must be feeling.

Her heart inadvertently gave a little pang at the thought and she could’ve sworn she saw his gaze narrow slightly as it happened.

She continued to take him in while she could, eyes lingering on the crystal around his neck that seemed to glow from within, a warm cerulean pulsation, before drifting over his leather jacket, burgundy henley, and worn-in jeans, half-tucked into his partially laced boots.

“Thanks for waiting,” was the first thing he said once he was in ear-shot.

Any passer-by might have thought he was sincere: Thanks for waiting for me by the car. For not leaving when you could have. Thanks for offering me a ride.

Grace, however, understood the sarcastic undercurrent of his words. Thanks for leaving me in there to deal with your mother and the rest of the agents. Nate’s disapproving glances and Felix’s gleeful ones. Thanks for ditching me.

There was never any true bite to his words, though, not anymore—even the borderline derisive ones. Instead, he stopped about a foot in front of her and straightened, his full lips quirked slightly, an unlit cigarette dangling between them. She had to crane her neck to look up at him and his grin grew wider.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he murmured, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

She cleared her throat, unable to stop the blush from creeping up her neck. 

Even after all they’d been through — all they’d done — she still couldn’t prevent the slow crawl of heat that always seemed to accompany his presence.

“Yeah,” she said gruffly, turning to open her door and hoping maybe this time he hadn’t noticed.

One glance at the way he rolled his lips, hiding an ever-growing smirk as he rounded the back bumper of her car to go to the passenger side, told her that there was no chance she had been that lucky.

They got in quietly and she started the ignition — on the third try, ignoring his snort and slow headshake — before they were off.

“You know,” she said after a beat, even though she kicked herself for always being the one to break the silence, “I don’t think I need a babysitter anymore. Things seem quiet now.”

Mason scoffed.

“Things are never quiet,” he replied bluntly. “There’s just the hurricane or the eye of the storm.”

She felt his eyes on her after a moment and she held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

“Why? Getting sick of my company, sweetheart?”

“No!” she blurted out quickly—too quickly. “It’s not that, it’s just—I mean, I feel bad for you, to be honest. I’m sure there’s other things you’d rather be doing—”

“There’s nothing — and no one — else I’d rather be doing right now.” He’d said the words casually enough, as though completely unaware of the tumult they would cause within her system, his head still tilted languidly against the headrest of her passenger seat as he watched her.

“Well—” She fumbled for words. “That’s—I’m glad.” Nice one.

He chuckled low in his throat. “What is it about you being flustered that just gets me going?” He shook his head. “I’ll never know.” 

She couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her. “I hate it,” she admitted. “You make me feel like my brain is constantly short-circuiting.”

“I’ll take that compliment.”

She took her eyes off the road briefly to look over at him. Sure enough, he was still staring right at her with a little smile quirking the side of his mouth up. She couldn’t help the return smile that she felt crinkling up the corners of her eyes.

His face changed slightly, smile dropping.

“Jesus, sweetheart, keep smiling at me like that and you might need to pull over.” He fiddled with a fresh cigarette before popping it in his mouth. She waited a beat, but the lighter never came out.

“We’re here anyway,” she said, pulling into her apartment complex and finding a spot easily. “You’ve officially completed your chaperone duty.” She hazarded a glance over at him. “Did you…” She cleared her throat. Be bold, Gracie.

He’d already turned his whole body in his seat, one hand braced on the dash, the other elbow digging in beside his headrest. He watched her carefully, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Did I?” He pretended to mull over the incomplete question. “The answer is most likely yes, I have.”

He leaned closer until she could feel the warmth of his breath swirling in the space between them. No longer imbued with the scent of burning tobacco, instead it had a sweetness to it, a freshness that reminded her of an unopened pack of cigarettes before they had been tainted by a flame.

“I have, I would have, and I certainly will again,” he continued, leaning forward even closer.

Grace bit her bottom lip and his eyes shot down to it immediately, seemingly transfixed by her tooth caught in the flushed redness of her mouth.

“Finish the sentence, detective,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on her, the cool grey seeming to emanate with a glow all its own.

“Did you want to come in?” she breathed, her own eyes darting down to his mouth in return.

His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her dark hair as he pulled her towards him.

“Always,” he said against her lips before capturing them with his.

Grace felt herself drowning in the moment, the same rushing vortex of emotion she felt every time they kissed. She’d thought it would get easier — that it had to — that it wouldn’t feel so all-consuming, so vital each time.

But as his lips slid over hers, tongue stroking and tasting and always drawing more and more from her, as she carded her fingers through the tempting obsidian waves of his hair and tugged him closer still, the desire to devour him too persistent to ignore—

She knew she was in deep. Too deep. She cared—too much. And there would be no getting out this time — at least not with all her vital parts attached.

* * *

Mason never thought he would like anything more than fucking.

It was intrinsic to his very being, the combustive need for release at all times — not just sexually, but entwined within his very existence. A need to be released from the hold of his senses, from the overpowering strain of existence—the sounds, the smells, the sights. All of it.

His desire to remove himself from the harshness of reality was a constant endeavour — and sex just happened to be the easiest and most pleasurable way to do it.

But he had to hand it to his little detective.

The sex was good, that was for sure. No doubt about it.

But the kissing—

In his almost one hundred years on this planet — at least the ones he could recall — he couldn’t remember ever being this affected by goddamn kissing of all things.

It had to be the little noises she made. Murmurs and moans against his mouth that he wasn’t even sure she was fully aware she was doing.

Or the way she pulled at him, drawing him closer each time so she could press her body against his, feel the length of her torso flush with the entirety of his.

She reminded him of a little burrowing creature, nuzzling at his jaw and neck, gripping the collar of his shirt, squirming to get under, over, inside him.

He squeezed her tightly — moderating the full extent of his strength, obviously, but still forcing her to emit a small breathless gasp at the feeling — and pulled her across the console towards him.

“Settle,” he murmured against her ear, dragging her fully into his lap. It was an effort — her legs kicked the dashboard, the radio, and the glove box before she could tuck them under herself as she buried a giggle into his shoulder.

“This car is not made for that sort of lateral movement,” she informed him, shifting to try and get comfortable.

“Oof,” he grunted as her knee hit his midsection. “God, you’re heavy.” It was patently untrue, but he knew he’d get some sass back for a comment like that and he found himself eagerly anticipating it.

She didn’t disappoint. Leaning back, she braced her hands on his shoulders, a lock of dark hair obscuring half of one of her hazel eyes. A street lamp illuminated her cheeky, exasperated grin as she tilted her head and regarded him.

“Is that so?” She wiggled around purposefully and he groaned in unspent desire as her perfectly round bottom found all the right places in his lap. “Would you care to file a complaint?”

“Christ, no,” he muttered, pulling her towards him once more. “Let’s get out of this aluminum death trap and go upstairs.”

Kicking his door open despite her protests to be careful, he tightened his hold on her and lifted them both out of the car, bracing his legs on the pavement as he stood.

He knew she was anticipating that he would release her, drop her to her feet and continue forwards to her apartment, likely with her trailing behind — his long strides swallowing up the pavement much easier than her shorter ones — but he found himself enjoying the steady, rapid beat of her heart against his shoulder, the comforting heft of her in his arms. He found himself hardpressed to let her go.

So he didn’t.

“Mason!”

She let out a gasp that dissolved into a laugh as he hefted her higher up and over his shoulder, unable to stop himself from giving her ass a playful slap as he carried her to her door. She kicked her legs ineffectually, thumped his back lightly with her palms as she squirmed. He only held her tighter against him.

“Stop moving, detective,” he ground out, the cigarette dropping out of his mouth as he turned his head to bite whatever part of her was closest to his cheek.

She yelped as his teeth made contact with the side of her upper thigh, hard enough that she’d be able to feel it through her jeans.

“Keep it up and it’ll be harder next time,” he promised, carrying her effortlessly up her steps. He paused at her front door. “Keys?”

“They’re in my pocket,” she grumbled and he made a big show of patting her bottom — both sides, thoroughly — before pulling them out of the pocket with the obvious protrusion and unlocking her door.

He let them in and kicked the door shut behind him, then took two strides into the small space and deposited her unceremoniously on the couch.

“Geez,” she spluttered, moving her hair out of her face. “What are my neighbours going to think?”

“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but with the noises you’ve been making lately, they’ve already drawn their own conclusions,” he drawled, crossing his arms and regarding her with a half smirk.

She just shook her head at him, her eyes glittering with mirth—and something else, something less easy to discern or define. 

Before he could decipher it further, she threw him off with another question:

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” 

Her tone could have been accusatory in nature, but instead there was only a mild sense of awe and a greater sense of amusement. Regardless, it still took him aback.

What, exactly, did she mean by that?

He admitted to himself that there had been a certain feeling of—levity, about him tonight. An air of calmness, of — dare he say — happiness, at the thought of walking out of that station and seeing her waiting for him. Of knowing that he got to go home with her. To hold her. To taste her. To fuck her.

And then to leave her.

“Into me?” He regarded her warily, before moderating his reaction and his tone. “I’m more concerned with getting into you tonight, detective.”

“I have a name,” she retorted, sitting up and smoothing her shirt out. “You haven’t used it once since we left the station.”

Yeah, she had a name. He knew she had a fucking name. Grace. How ironic.

“Call me Gracie,” she’d said to them once and he’d almost puked.

What in the everloving fuck was someone like him doing with someone called Grace? “Grace” meant kindness. Charity. Good will. “Grace” meant mercy.

Mason had never had, nor had he ever wanted, anything to do with mercy.

And this girl—woman in front of him tonight, was the embodiment of her name. Everything kind. Everything compassionate. Everything merciful.

He crossed his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t have to look at them.

“Are we doing introductions again?” he snapped and then immediately regretted it when he saw the stricken look on her face.

All of a sudden, everything felt too overwhelming, his senses in overdrive as he lost his grip on her presence, her heartbeat. Instead, he felt a tidal wave of unwelcome sensations: the smell of the toast she’d made that morning, some flowers she had in a vase that were on the cusp of dying, the light he’d turned on when they walked in shining right in his eyes, the conversation and heavy footsteps of the people in the apartment above them— 

Compulsively, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips, ready to light it.

Her eyes followed him, watching him closely. He didn’t know if she realized that something had changed in his demeanour or not, but her gaze on him made him itchy, too, in a different way.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he bit down hard on the cigarette, crushing the filter.

“Should I leave?” he muttered, feeling his shoulders hunch. Knowing he looked and sounded petulant and hating himself for it, but being unable to moderate his emotions enough to lift up the necessary shields.

She continued to regard him silently, those all-knowing hazel eyes, wise beyond their years, stripping him down to his scars — external and internal.

He suppressed a shudder.

“I’m going to shower,” she said eventually, “and wash off the grime of the day.” She gestured around the apartment. “Feel free to stay and get comfortable.” Then, she swallowed hard and met his eyes briefly, before looking away and shrugging. “Or go. It’s up to you.” She walked towards the bathroom, tossing her jacket on a chair as she went. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

The bathroom door closed — and locked, decisively.

It would be so easy to just bounce. Two steps to the door and then minutes before he could make it back to the warehouse. To his own bed. To the rest of his unit. Where things were easy and no one would ask questions. He could even go to a bar. Find another warm and willing body to lie with. One with a sensible and meaningless name, like Michael or Jennifer, whose eyes would be as empty as their head and who would smell all wrong and who he’d leave behind without looking back even once, because he didn’t give a shit about them.

It would be so easy.

So fucking easy.

Mason heard the shower turn on.

He thought about how she’d feel when she came out of that shower — thought, too, about her skin flushed and damp, only a towel wrapped around her, just because he couldn’t help himself — knowing that she’d given him an opportunity to stay and he’d chosen to go. 

He found himself caring, for the first time, about how his actions might affect another person’s feelings. 

He looked at the front door. Then he looked at the couch.

And he sat down.

* 

Thanks for reading! I have a smutty part two planned, let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in. 😅

[thenextchapter22]

Angel of the Three Realms

PART THREE!!

Description: You were an Angel who went to the human world to escape punishment for loving Lucifer only to be brought back into his life, this time in the Devildom where you pretend to be human.

Warnings: Unrequited Love, Angst, WIP

Pairing(s): Lucifer/Reader

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Authors Note: Okay so it’s been two months and I’m sorry but I finally had time to write after having the Holiday’s and dental surgery that ended up worse that it should have been and yadda... So please enjoy!~

Part One Part Two

_+_

The light was blinding. Everything felt soft and cushioned and warm. You stood in the center of a circular room with no windows and yet the cream walls gleamed pure white so harshly it hurt your eyes. This should be comfortable—light was comforting right, like sunlight?—but you felt too seen. Too pure when you knew you were anything but after all you had done.

Suddenly, above you the ceiling opened up. Black smoke streamed inside with purpose and movement. A dark Angel flew down quickly and landed on two lean legs with no sound of impact.

“Lucifer!” Your own voice seemed echoed in your ears.

His face was expressionless as he spoke. “You lied to me. You left me.”

You shook your head and pleaded, “No, please I—”

He was in front of you, clutching your throat in his hands. His eyes glowed blood red. “I hate you. I will always hate you for what you did to me. You don’t deserve my love.” He let you go and without a second look, Lucifer was gone.

He was gone.

The room was getting smaller, until it was brushing your shoulders. You fell to your knees and sobbed and clutched your chest as it ached. Like vines wrapping around your heart, squeezing the life from your soul internally. “Please…”

The inky black overcame your vision, and you felt yourself sinking into the dark. Suffocating and drowning in pain, rejection. You were alone. Forever to be left in the darkness with no one to save you from your own terrible choices.

This was the life you had selected and you had to deal with the consequences of it all.

When you next opened your eyes, expecting dark, it was to a bedroom that was familiar and a pillow you knew all too well.

“That must have been quite a nightmare.”

Heart pounding, you looked over to see Barbatos pouring water from a pitcher that sat on the bedside table.

You felt sweaty and sore and emotionally drained. All from a nightmare. But relief poured in and your heartbeat calmed.

Your throat was actually very dry, so you took the water gratefully. After downing the whole thing, you nodded. “Yeah, that wasn’t… that wasn’t a pleasant dream…”

Barbatos took your empty glass from your hand. “Our dreams are extensions of our conscious minds. Often times what you are dreaming of has correlations to your life and emotions. A dream may even be telling you a path to take or perhaps a path not to take.” He smiled small, then. “Or perhaps not, and it was simply a bad dream.”

You just blinked at him. There wasn’t really anything you thought of to say to that. He might have been right, but what did your dream actually mean?

“You look pale. Do you need anything?”

You shook your head. “No thank you. Um, where’s Lucifer?”

He smiled. “He’ll be back shortly. I was tasked with watching you until then.”

“Oh. All right.”

You shifted on the bed, wincing. Your body had been stuck here for a while and you could feel the muscles of your legs and back starting to cramp, being stuck laying on your belly for this long sucked. But you had a pillow set under your chest to cushion your upper body and the bed was one of the most comfortable ones you ever had been in. At least your wings were okay for now. But there was an urging inside that spoke volumes, and it said that you needed to spread them and fly.

“We’ll start to replenish your magic with some medicine as soon as Simeon gathers the correct ingredients from the Celestial Realm.”

Your neck hurt from how quickly you turned it, and you pushed yourself up on your elbows, despite the strain, to gape at Barbatos. “What? He—he’s going to do what?”

Barbatos didn’t even look affected. “He had to get specific items only found there. He should be back soon and then we can get you back to full strength again.”

You wanted to cry. This was bad, so bad. They were going to find out you still had your Angel magic and strip it from you, and you would be left with nothing. A fitting end, truly, for all the pain you caused them when you left.

“It’s too late to call them back, isn’t it?” you asked quietly.

“Why would you want them to do that, young miss?”

You laughed bitterly at the way he addressed you. “Please don’t, Barbatos. I—I don’t want…” Your throat closed up. Why did you have to start crying again? You were not weak. Right?

“Calm yourself, please. You have nothing to worry about.”

Barbatos’ words did nothing to calm you. It was like he didn’t realize what was going to happen.

Simeon would have to ask permission to take anything from the Celestial Realm to bring it here. That meant speaking with Michael. And Michael was not always kind to you. It was true he was one of the oldest Angel’s and close with your father, but that did not mean he had to be nice to you. He hated how you acted. He tried to make Lucifer change you into being a perfect Angel. Lucifer never listened but still, it hurt.

So knowing what Michael thought of you, and that he probably thought you dead… he would not be happy to hear you fell to the Human Realm and still lived as an Angel. He would destroy you. End you.

Because if an Angel falls from Heaven voluntarily to the Human world, not on assignment or to be a Guardian Angel to a human in need, then that Angel was not welcome back and became mortal, doomed to die and never rebirth as an Angel. They were only meant to become either a wandering soul, or meant for Hell. If an Angel falls from Heaven to the Devildom, be it voluntarily or not, they became a Fallen, still immortal but not pure or ever allowed to return as an Angel, and the Devildom could do with you as they wished.

You shoved your face into your pillows and sobbed loudly. You didn’t want to die. You just wanted to live and enjoy living. Delight in all that the worlds had to give. To be with Lucifer and the brothers and the other exchange students and learn and be happy together, cause mischief and make memories together. As a family.

But instead…. You would be killed. If not killed, made human permanently. Either choice was horrible.

The crushing pain of knowing your end was coming made your entire body shake with uncontrollable sobs. Barbatos was saying something but you were not hearing him, stuck in your head, trapped in the misery of certain death. Is this was Humans felt all the time? If so, it was awful.

The bedroom door opened. You barely heard it. “What’s going on here? Why are you crying? Are you in pain?”

It was Lucifer. You turned your red face to see him standing with Barbatos, accosting him. You wanted to reach out to him, but your position made it hard. “Lucifer—I—”

At your bedside, he took your face in his hand. “I am here. What do you need?”

You cried, “Please hold me, I just wana feel you around me.” Like before when you were sad, his wings always gave you comfort, surrounding your body with warmth.

Lucifer helped rearrange your body so you were curled up into his arms, pressed to his chest on your side as your shoulders shook, wings together behind the both of you. Barbatos had left but you hardly noticed it, too focused on holding Lucifer, breathing him in, letting his hands and fingers and soothing voice calm you.

Several minutes passed. Lucifer was there the entire time, his arms around you as best he could, his chin to the top of your head. He pet your head and rocked you a little bit as you felt yourself stop crying, like you ran out of tears. Your body still trembled and your cheeks hurt but there weren’t any more waterworks.

“Can you please tell me what happened? Was it something that Barbatos did?”

You swallowed thickly. “No, nothing he did. He said… he said Simeon was getting some things for me…”

“Yes, he is. Simeon informed me that your magic is very low from keeping it in use for so long.”

“If Michael—he can’t—”

“Michael won’t find out, sweetheart. I promise you that. Simeon said he’d be discreet.”

“Wh-what?” Did that mean Simeon was lying to Michael… for you?

He tipped your chin up and gazed sympathetically at you as you blinked away random tears stuck in your eyes that fell. “We know Michael. He never treated you well. I won’t let anything happen to you, I swear on my life.”

You wanted to kiss him. You almost did. Instead, though, you hugged him tighter than ever, and he made a surprised sound and then melded into your snug embrace. “Thank you.”

“For you, I would do anything.”

[flutteringdreams-matw]

Out of Time (5)

First/Last

Read on AO3

Word Count: 4347

Previously: Danny and Dan clashed above Amity.

Now: "When you faced Dan in the alternate future, he fused a time medallion within you and then took your place within your time. That created the first paradox. What he didn't realize is the ramifications of that action." Clockwork's expression softened slightly, observing Danny carefully. "Time Medallions are exempt from my powers of controlling time, but not time itself."

As always - please let me know what you think!

---

"I want a damage report on the attack from earlier, any footage from that attack and for goodness sake… will someone deal with the media!"

"Yes Mayor Masters!" a chorus of aides and officials replied, scurrying out of the room.

Vlad sighed, rubbing his temples as he leaned back in his office. Dealing with Daniel's heroic exploits were one thing… but this was taking it to a whole different level! The blasted dome had been up for days and now a ghost that even he felt the presence of from inside his office shows up with the same power as the boy?

Vlad frowned as he looked up at the dome overhead, remembering the events from previous summer. Daniel had certainly grown since then, but to keep a shield this powerful up for this long? Could he truly be this powerful?

A ring brought him out of his musing, feeling the vibrations of his phone from his left breast pocket. With a slight scowl, he absently grabbed the phone and glanced at the number. His eyes widened in recognition before answering. "I was wondering when you would call," he said into his cell phone, annoyed and exasperated.

"It's Maddie," the voice answered curtly. Vlad's eyes furrowed as he scrambled more upright into his seat.

"M-Maddie!" he exclaimed nervously, flattening out his hair to make it look more presentable. He briefly berated his silliness as he settled his nerves. "What a pleasant surprise!" He stiffened slightly, confused. "Wait… why are you calling from Daniel's phone?"

"Why were you expecting him to call you?" she rebutted dangerously. Before Vlad could even think of a reply, he heard her sigh on the other line. "What do you know about heat cores?"

Vlad frowned, slightly surprised at the question. "It's one of the types of cores for ghosts. There are a few different ones – ice, fire, electricity. Surely Daniel must have mentioned them?"

"Not about heat cores specifically," she replied. Vlad still noticed the tartness in her voice; she really didn't want to talk to him.

Vlad got up from the chair, pacing as he thought of how to continue the conversation. This was Maddie! She barely spoke to him anymore; he needed to keep her talking. "Heat cores are fire based," he explained. "Depending on the ghost, it could have direct correlations to their powers like warm ectoblasts, from their appearances etc."

"What would happen if a heat core came in contact with an ice core?"

Vlad stopped pacing, looking at the phone curiously. "That would only happen if two ghosts merged somehow or if someone striped a ghost down to their core levels and combined them forcefully."

"But what would happen?" she pressed.

Vlad stayed silent for a moment, pondering her question as he searched for an answer. "I would assume… that it would behave quite like ice when exposed to heat. It'd melt – either absorbing the ice core or drying up anything the core left behind." Maddie went quiet, making an uneasy feeling creep up within the man. "Maddie," he said quietly. "Daniel has an ice core."

"He's fine," she replied quickly, but he caught the small worry in her voice. "He's resting in the infirmary." Vlad's frown deepened, waiting for the woman to explain some more. "That fight took a lot out of him."

Vlad scoffed. "Of course it did!" he replied, annoyed. "He's held a powerful shield that reflects attacks over the entire town for days. Even if he was Phantom all the time this would take a lot out of him. He's still half human! It's reckless and I can't believe you are entertaining this idiocy."

Maddie was quiet for a long time, the weight of Vlad's words hanging in the air. "This is more complicated that you even know," she said finally, the tartness coming back in full force.

"Then tell me!" Vlad exclaimed angrily. "Believe me to be the bad guy all you want Maddie, but I know Daniel! We're the same!"

"You are not the same!" Maddie exclaimed, cutting across the man's tirade. "Do you think I like seeing him do this? He's fifteen years old Vlad, and I can't do anything to protect him!" The line was quiet for a few moments before she sighed tiredly. "Look, I trust Danny's judgement. Whatever that ghost is will be a force to be reckoned with, and while I hate to say this, we may need all hands on deck. Keep the media off our backs and I'll be in contact."

"Maddie wait-" Vlad started, but it was too late. Maddie was gone, the beeping of the disconnected line entertaining his ear. Vlad brought his phone down slowly, staring at Daniel's number with a concerned frown. "What on earth is going on," he murmured, confused.

:-=-:

Maddie frowned as she hung up the phone, staring at the device in her hand like it was a foreign object. With a sigh, she opened her son's phone again, scrolling through the call log until she saw the most recent one. She stared at the four letter name, slightly surprised that her son didn't label it "Plasmius" or "Fruitloop," before finally pressing the delete button.

She didn't want to admit it, but the man was right; Danny wasn't acting logically. Danny was acting on instinct and fear, with no regard for his own safety. And here she was, powerless and unable to stop him. Her hand curled around the phone determinedly, before setting it back on Danny's nightstand and walked out of his room. As she went down the stairs, her mind wandered back to her conversation with Vlad.

If Vlad thinks that mixing Ghost cores is a bad idea, then it might have truly been an accident. She mused. But if this alternate future has a heat core… how did it change? Which core absorbed which? Our Danny has an ice core… but what if the alternate Danny didn't start with one?

"Maddie?"

The sound of her husband's voice brought her out of her thoughts. Maddie looked to meet Jack's worried gaze, confused at her current state. He and the two ghosts were at the kitchen table, apparently in conversation while she walked into the room in a daze.

Maddie shook her head and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, just thinking through something." Her smile quickly disappeared, guilt creeping up in her chest. "How's Danny?"

"Still out," Jack told her with a frown. He turned towards the large wolf ghost sitting across from him. "Ethelwulf was just filling me in."

"It's more exhaustion than anything else," Ethelwulf continued sombrely. "Most of the bruises and burns he acquired from that fight have all but healed; the only reason why he's still unconscious is because he fixed that shield."

Clockwork said nothing, regarding the humans and ghosts expressionlessly before moving away from the table. Maddie was a little unnerved by the purple clad ghost, but Danny had once said he was a friend, and Ethelwulf seemed to trust him. Maddie sighed sadly, taking a seat at the table.

"He hasn't been sleeping well," she told the healing ghost. "Not since he put up the shield."

Ethelwulf frowned, glancing back toward the time master before regarding the mother. "Let's let him rest then," he said, changing the subject slightly. "Best fill everyone in together."

"Maybe you can help us out then," Jack said, scratching his chin in thought. "Most of our inventions have a failsafe for Danny's ecto-signature, but if Dan's ecto-signature is similar…"

Clockwork moved slightly from the corner of the kitchen. His red eyes found Maddie's, staring straight at her as Jack and Ethelwulf discussed possible ecto-signatures. Maddie held his gaze, awestruck at the power this ghost seemed to hold in that stare. The world disappeared around her, the faint sound of clocks in the distance drowning out the world.

As suddenly as it happened, the gaze disappeared and Clockwork floated slowly toward the entrance to the lab. Maddie watched as he made his way away from Jack and Ethelwulf, down the stairs; Maddie followed quickly.

"Clockwork?" she called, making the ghost stop in the middle of the lab. "Danny told us you took Dan in the Fenton Thermos the first time he faced him. Is there some way-"

"You cannot stop him," Clockwork cut across bluntly.

Flustered, Maddie stopped, looking at the back of the ghost with wide eyes. "What?"

"Any parent wants to shelter their children from harm," Clockwork told her sagely. "You mean well Maddie Fenton, but you cannot stop Daniel from growing up; from facing his fears. There are only so many things you can still protect him from."

Maddie frowned. "I don't understand."

Clockwork sighed, glancing back at the woman over his shoulder. "I know what you're planning – but we're running out of time. If you cannot figure how to separate their ecto-signatures, even with Plasmius' help, then you must be prepared to accept what Danny decides to do. Along with the consequences that come with it."

Maddie's mind reeled with the weight of Clockwork's words. She swallowed nervously, her response coming out in a whisper. "He's my son; how can I just watch as he throws himself into danger?"

Clockwork turned back, continuing towards the infirmary. "You don't," he replied sadly. The ghost turned invisible then, leaving the stricken mother in the middle of the lab.

:-=-:

... "Vlad?" His voice felt hoarse to his own ears.

"Daniel, there's no time!" the man yelled frantically as he freed the boy from the operating table. He heard the screams from further away. "It went wrong. You need to run, get out of here. I'll hold them – it – off to buy you time." The smell of ectoplasm and blood made him sick. "Quickly before –"

Vlad was tackled from behind from a white and black blur. Not wasting a second, he ran toward the exit of the lab. Suddenly, he felt something hit him from behind. With a shout, he crashed into the wall hard.

"Did you think you could run away from me?"

He looked up at the voice. It was his voice – except it was distorted somehow, more evil. His ghost half was different, hair on fire and skin blue. Phantom looked like those ghosts he fought over the last year – before everything. His body was shaking.

"Did you think you could throw me away Danny? After everything?" Phantom said, in the same strange voice. "Let me show you which half is disposable."

He met the blood red eyes of Phantom before he saw green.

Danny gasped as he awoke, startled from his most recent dream. Eyes shooting open, he immediately groaned at the too bright lights bombarded his senses. He brought a hand to his face, blocking out the light briefly, hissing slightly at his soreness as he did so. Danny stayed like that for a few minutes, taking in the smell of antiseptic and ectoplasm as he tried to shake the dream from his thoughts.

"What's wrong with me?" Danny asked, distraught. "Why now?"

"Both excellent questions."

Danny shot upright, wincing heavily, at the voice. "Clockwork?!" he exclaimed, confused. He looked around widely before he saw him, sitting in the chair beside the bed. The Time Master's face was hidden beneath his long silvery beard. His hands were folded neatly under his chin, eyes sparkling in small amusement as he watched Danny's slacked jawed response.

"Hello Danny," he said. Clockwork shifted the chair closer, letting it rise above the ground slightly as he did so. "Good to see you awake."

Danny blinked at the words before his brow furrowed in anger. "Where have you been?" he asked angrily, gesturing wildly. "Dan escaped days ago and you show up here now to do what? We could have-" Danny broke off, grimacing as a set of sparks went through his frame. He doubled over with a groan and closed his eyes as he breathed through the pain. The sparks subsided after a few minutes, but Danny sat hunched, breathing deeply.

"Easy now," Clockwork soothed, his tranquil voice made Danny's body relax slightly. "There's a lot to explain and best to do it all at once with your team present." Danny nodded, pushing himself back into a sitting position. Clockwork sighed, rising from the chair and drifted over to Danny's bedside. Once he was in front of the teen, he placed one of his hands on Danny's shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Danny scoffed. "Like I was run over by a truck while I relived my worst nightmare over and over again."

Clockwork rolled his eyes at the response. "Fifteen year olds and sarcasm; I meant your energy levels. Apart from battling a powerful enemy, you also put more energy back into the shield. You've been out for a few hours."

Finally opening his eyes, Danny looked around the room. Mildly surprised, he realized that he was in the lab – more specifically the infirmary. Stark white walls lined with shelves full of first aid supplies surrounded them in the large room. There were tons of medical equipment all adorned with the Fenton logo. "What happened?" he asked in response. "I remember the shield being cracked, but everything else is a little hazy."

Clockwork sighed again, crossing his arms. "You insisted on fixing the shield and managed to do so by putting more of yourself into it. Unfortunately, you were also low on energy and passed out. Which brings us full circle to: How are you feeling? I know it's a question you tend to deflect, but humour me this once."

Danny cringed slightly, frowning in thought as he assessed himself. "I… don't feel as drained," he said after a moment, confused. Danny looked up at the Time Ghost. "If I put more energy into the shield, shouldn't I be feeling worse?"

"That's a question for Ethelwulf I'm afraid," Clockwork replied with a sly smile. "However, that probably means you can chance the stairs. Your friends will be here shortly and it's best to get everything out in the open." Clockwork picked up his staff, which Danny only noticed was at the foot of his bed, and gestured toward the door. "Shall we?"

Danny watched as Clockwork floated to the door, turning the knob. He sat up slowly, carefully standing before staring back to the Time Master. "Clockwork?" Clockwork hummed as he turned back to Danny expectantly. "You haven't shifted forms."

Clockwork raised his eyebrows slightly, smiling. "Perhaps you aren't as clueless as you seem." Danny ignored the jab and stared at his friend. Sighing, Clockwork gestured again towards the door. "Everything is as it should be – for now at least. I'll explain more upstairs."

:-=-:

"Danny! You're okay!"

Danny managed to turn from his spot on the couch before he was tackled by his friends and sister. He waved them off with a smile. "I'm fine." All three teens stood back and gave Danny an exasperated look. "Really!"

Sam let out a small breath. "Good," she said with a small smile. Before Danny could react, she hit him hard on the arm repeatedly. "What. Were. You. Thinking!"

"Ow!" Danny exclaimed, scowling as he rubbed his arm. He looked at Jazz and Tucker for any assistance, but neither seemed to want to get in the middle of whatever tirade Sam had planned. "Seriously?"

"Danny you passed out," she gritted out, violet eyes blazing. "In the middle of class, then decided to go off and face an evil version of yourself when he attacked." She crossed her arms and sent the boy a withering glare.

"I think Sam's trying to say you scared us," Jazz said, frowning disapprovingly. "Thankfully Tucker managed to get to me in time to sign you out of school before we went into lockdown. It took ages to get through to Mom and Dad."

Danny sighed guiltily. "Yeah, if it wasn't for Ethelwulf and Clockwork, I don't think I would have gotten out of there."

As if on cue, Ethelwulf walked in the Fenton's living room, quickly followed by his parents and Clockwork.

"Hi kids!" Jack boomed as he sat down across from the teens. "Perfect timing."

"I thought you couldn't find Ethelwulf?" Tucker asked, confused. "Or Clockwork for that matter."

"Apparently, it's a long story," Danny said, eying both ghosts warily. "Now that we're all here, can you just tell us what's going on?"

Ethelwulf chuckled, sitting on the couch and faced Clockwork with amused eyes. "I told you he'd be all business."

Clockwork said nothing, waiting until the humans settled before he floated toward them. He inspected his staff, frowning slightly, then at the wall clock across from him. His old frame hunched further, floating down toward the ground and put his staff out in front of him, using it as a cane. "What would you like to know?"

Danny frowned, realizing now how frail Clockwork looked. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

Clockwork smiled sadly. "Have you ever heard of a paradox?" he retorted. Danny shook his head, while Sam, Tucker and Jazz all nodded. "A paradox, in regards to time, is when a situation contradicts the natural order of time. It can be an event, a person or thing that doesn't belong. I see time like a parade, from above; whenever I sense a paradox – I intervene to move time away."

"Why?" Maddie asked.

"I control time," Clockwork said simply, turning towards her. "Except time is not a simple concept for any being, especially humans. It moves in all directions. When a paradox occurs, it stops the parade; time gets backed into fewer and fewer pathways until it's forced to go in one direction." Clockwork turned toward Danny, looking at the boy's face to see if he understood yet. "Paradoxes, unfortunately, are my weakness. As the timelines dwindle, so does my grip on time and my powers. My form stops shifting, I lose the ability to see all the possible pathways; It is increasingly harder for me to start, stop and manipulate the timeline."

Danny's eyes widened, finally connecting the dots. "You're not shifting because of me," he said, guilt and regret in his voice. "You're losing your powers because of my future self and the alternate timeline."

Clockwork chuckled. "I wish it was so simple." When Danny shot him a confused look, he continued. "When I saved you and your family, I created another paradox by removing Dan Phantom from the time stream."

"Wait – another paradox?" Jazz asked incredulously. "What was the first paradox?"

Sam gasped. "We created the first one," she exclaimed, looking at Tucker with wide eyes. "Remember? We jumped straight into a future where we didn't belong."

"No," Clockwork answered. "Dan Phantom created the first one by interacting with you, Danny. Unfortunately, this many paradoxes have limited my view on time as it unfolds. One paradox I can deal with – two have sadly created more dead ends. Which reminds me; The dreams you've been having."

"Frostbite told us," Ethelwulf explained, when all humans looked at him confused. "Though, Clockwork suspected as much after you faced Nocturn."

"Nocturn?" Danny asked, confused. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"I asked Nocturn to investigate a hunch," Clockwork told the wide eyed teen. "When you faced Dan in the alternate future, he fused a time medallion within you and then took your place within your time. That created the first paradox. What he didn't realize is the ramifications of that action." His expression softened slightly, observing Danny carefully. "Time Medallions are exempt from my powers of controlling time, but not time itself. By fusing one with your core and leaving you ten years in the future, it started to solidify your place within a new time stream. Those dreams you've been having? Glimpses of the future you erased as well as possible outcomes of what's to come. Nocturn confirmed it when you two clashed earlier this year.

"However, while that timeline has been erased from the main time stream, a piece of it still exists within Dan. I removed him from time, meaning that my powers no longer affect him -just like they no long affect you since a part of your core assimilated to a different timeline. One that no longer exists."

"What…" Danny said breathlessly. He put his head in hands; it was too much to take in.

"Since that battle, how many times have you moved through time without one of my medallions?" Clockwork asked sympathetically. "How many times did I have to forcibly manipulate time around you?"

Danny stayed silent; mind reeling as he went through the questions Clockwork was asking. He didn't dare look at his friends or family.

"The time medallion, even though it's now out, is a relic of time Danny," Clockwork continued. "It doesn't follow a linear path. Its power shows itself unpredictably. It's why I was able to stop time around you on Fear Island, transport you to and from the past into multiple timelines without needing to use the medallion, and yet still was able to stop time during your fight with Dan last year. It's also why you did not see any of these glimpses until the paradox was upon us. You can see parts of it in random orders, sense wounds before they happen. You and your future self are the centre of this paradox Danny – time cannot move forward until you face each other."

"Hold on," Maddie said slowly. "You said you couldn't see past this paradox – how do you know Danny has to face the evil Phantom?"

Clockwork regarded her for a moment, red eyes scanning her before turning back to Danny, head still in his hands. "The last thing I'm able to see clearly is Danny and Dan facing off – but I'm not the only one who can see possible outcomes right now. In fact, I don't believe that my account for the future is as far we can see."

All eyes turned to the teen with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Finally looking up at the Master of Time, Danny sighed. "I've seen it too," he confessed reluctantly. "Multiple different times where we fight – Actually, I think we just lived through one." Danny shuddered slightly in remembrance. "I saw his creation. I've seen him escape multiple times…" Danny swallowed, silent again.

"Which prompted you to put up that shield," Ethelwulf said pointedly. Danny nodded. "Danny, you're powerful enough to keep that shield up without using your core energy. If what Clockwork said about the Time Medallion is true, your core might be feeling the effects of these dreams or these phantom injuries."

Danny hummed, agreeing with his mentor. "Wait – Clockwork said I put more energy into the shield. How come I feel okay?"

Ethelwulf frowned disapprovingly. "The fight between you and your future self drained quite a lot of your base powers, which helped balance your extensive use of your core powers from the past few days. Now that you've regained some energy, your base powers unconsciously switched with your core powers in that shield as a way to help you recover your energy. It's probably wise to continue to use your base powers with the shield unless there's a larger threat upon us." The wolf ghost turned to Clockwork before back to Danny. "You said you've seen multiple visions of Dan escaping?"

"Had another one this morning," Tucker supplied worriedly. "In the middle of class."

Danny felt his parents' eyes move to him in concern and possibly exasperation. "Yeah," he said softly.

Ethelwulf moved to the boy, trained yellow eyes scanning carefully for any injuries he could have missed. "When did he actually escape Clockwork?"

"This morning," the time master replied with a frown.

"And how many times have you seen him escape?"

Danny sighed. "About six or seven. I lost count."

Ethelwulf frowned in thought, looking between Clockwork and Danny expectantly. "Were there any indications that last vision was the one from this future?"

The boy in question frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought back. "I was awake with this one?" he supplied.

"There weren't any sparks this morning," Sam said, frowning slightly. "He just … fell over."

Danny hummed in agreement. "That's true; most of the other visions I had affected my core powers. That one just… happened."

Ethelwulf stared at the halfa in front of him, before looking toward Clockwork. Clockwork gave a slight nod, indicating his acceptance and Ethelwulf continued. "Danny, you need to take it easy for a bit; you're going to need your powers at full strength before you can face Dan again."

Danny nodded, not trusting his own voice. The world felt like it was taunting him, showing him these glimpses of time. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, he stood, feeling all eyes move toward him. "I'm going upstairs," he said quietly.

"Danny –" Jazz called out to him, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

"Just a little tired," he said with a small smile. It didn't reach his eyes. "Let me know if there's any trouble." He walked out of the living room, still feeling the concerned gazes of his friends and family as he made his way up the stairs. Finally reaching his room, Danny entered it hastily, leaning against the back of the door as he closed it with a soft click. He let out a shuttering breath, as the conversation that just happened washed over him again. Clockwork losing his powers? Seeing the future? Timelines? Dan?

Dan.

Danny frowned at the memory of his evil future came to mind once more. Going into that fight this morning was stupid, sure, but it made him realize something- Dan wasn't holding back. When Danny faced him after he returned from the future, Dan was reserved, calculating to make his plan move forward. Now? It was like the evil spectre was playing with him. Danny sighed, staring out into his room.

"What are you after?"

:-=-:

Power flooded his veins as he ripped through another Ectopus, absorbing their energy with fervour. As the poor ghost disappeared, lost to the mass of the ghost zone, Dan's aura shone brighter, relishing in the excitement.

He floated toward the edge of the floating rock nearest to him, hearing in the distance the vague screams of terror from a distance. He smiled cruelly – it truly was great to be out of that thermos. Brow furrowing, he turned quickly, ecto-blast at the ready before he dropped the attack. A mirror image of himself floated above him – a little worse for wear- echoing the power hungry demeanour. He smiled, feeling the duplicate rejoin him and giving him the memories it carried with it.

"Well now," he said quietly, chuckling darkly. "Seems like the old me has some new tricks – and allies." He paced up and down, thinking about his next move. "If he's able to keep that shield while fighting, then his power levels must have improved somewhat…" he stopped, staring out to the Zone in thought. "Perhaps I should divide his attention." He smiled again as a plan formulated in his mind. "I can't wait to watch as his world falls apart."

:-=-:

Valerie slipped the blaster's core back into her main bazooka with a grin. Flipping the switch, her smile widened as it hummed in response. Switching it back off, she threw it over to her already large pile of weapons on the table as she grabbed another smaller ecto-gun from the pile beside her. She needed everything in tip-top shape to face off against whatever attacked Amity today.

With a frown, she turned back to the TV as it ran a repeat of the ghost attack from earlier. Phantom 'saved' the town from a ghost attack by putting a giant shield around the city. That he put up. "Probably more of his dirty tricks," she muttered, cleaning some ectoplasmic build up from the gun she was working on. An image of the Ghost Boy falling and hitting the shield graced the screen as Lance Thunder speculated some sort of hair-brained theory.

She winced as it was shown again; that was probably fifteen feet, twenty tops. For the Ghost kid to drop out of the air like that – his opponent certainly packed a punch. Usually he was flying off with some stupid smile or quip on his lips after battles. This? This was different.

Valerie inspected the gun, making sure there was nothing out of the ordinary before she hunched forward and studied the footage. Everything about this fight was opposite from what she's seen from the spook. Even from afar, she can tell there was no banter – every move he made was calculated. He never fought with a team unless he needed to and whoever those two ghosts were, well, it was testament to their strength to see them just disappear like that. Valerie had only seen Phantom fight like that on two occasions: The Ghost King and last month… when they faced the mayor.

The dark skinned sighed as that thought crossed her mind. When she said knowledge was power, she didn't mean the knowledge that the mayor was a ghost. And possibly a criminal mastermind who almost murdered a young girl. Definitely a manipulative son of a –

Ding Dong

Startled, Valerie looked up from her spot on the sofa to the piles of weapons across the small apartment. She cringed, scrambling upright and grabbed the blanket on the armrest, throwing it over the couch. "Just a second!" she called, looking around frantically for something to cover the table as the doorbell rang again.

Seeing the pile of lab clothes at the foot of her father's room, Valerie tossed it onto the table, jumped over one of the table chairs and stood in front of her door. She took a deep breath to centre herself before opening the door slowly.

Valerie gasped; in front of her stood a girl, no more than 12 in a baggy sweatshirt, red shorts looked up at her through giant blue eyes. Her long jet black hair was covered by the red beanie, poking out a bit in the front.

"Dani?" Valerie asked, dumbfounded at the young half ghost girl in front of her. "When – how?"

Dani smiled shyly. "Hey Valerie," she said with a wave. "Mind if I stay with you for a while?"

Link to Ecto-Storm Series

[themelodicenigma]

1/2 Hi! What's your opinion about Aerith's resolution scene? It feels like most of fans are more interested in convenient interpretations to confirm/discard the CA ship, without really wondering, from a narrative standpoint, "why", of all the things Aerith could warn Cloud against, she touches the romantic subject? And so early in the story too. Romance in FF7 is often treated by fans as a standalone thing more than something that is interweaved with the main story and has a role within it.

2/2 Should we now re-evaluate the weight of CA relationship in the OG? I never felt like Cloud had more than a crush on her or her death broke him. But when a compilation expands in such a relistic way, the main story needs to be retroactively reinterpreted (like what happened with CC). I'm also wondering what significance we should give to the black floating feathers in this scene (the most visible one appearing when Aerith prays – hard not to think about Sephiroth). PS Sorry for the bad English

Don’t worry, your ENG is fine here!

Anywho, it’s quite the subject isn’t it? I often speak on how sometimes the foundation of a fan’s understanding of the Remake is grounded by their understanding of the OG. Which does make sense and have its merit, but it can also lead to a lot of biased views if there isn’t a consideration of the Remake’s way of storytelling. That’s why we have less of a reasonable spectrum of thought, and more of these black and white interpretations you mentioned floating around. I’ve seen a lot of “Aerith is telling us a fact: Cloud’s feelings aren’t real!” vs. “Cloud confessed to Aerith that he’d fall in love with her!”.

It doesn’t take much time to realize who is saying what.

The first example is talking about something that hasn’t happened yet (e.g. Cloud confirming Aerith’s words), and the second example is talking about something that, by the scene itself, just didn’t happen anyway. From a narrative standpoint and with an understanding of the story of FF7, this part of Aerith’s Resolution reflects two points: Cloud’s false memories/self and Cloud’s feelings for Aerith—more directly, the premise that if Cloud falls in love with Aerith, his feelings won’t be real due to the state of being he’s in. Additionally, this resolution essentially acts as a reflection of Aerith’s GS Date but with twists—the first being that her thoughts on Cloud’s falsity is not tied to the correlation of his similarities to Zack, and the second being that it adds a dash of something more reminiscent of the dream/forest scene (if anything, the Resolution is almost an applicable replacement of it in general). Death, cherishing time left and memories, and Cloud not being completely himself—there’s a lot of foreshadowing here.

This is where people typically use their takes on the OG to formulate a conclusion for Aerith’s premise, as you’ve seen above, with even some extending alternates. For example, that the real reason Cloud’s feelings wouldn’t be real because he’s really in love with Tifa already and is incapable of feeling anything for anyone else as he is.

But my take?

To be upfront, this scene sets up the idea that Aerith is wrong in regards to the romantic storytelling between the two of them. That yes, his feelings (in this case, that of “suki” [すき, romantic like/love when used for a person]) are going to be real despite the state he’s in. Not to mention, it isn’t an “if” he has romantic feelings, because it goes against all reason and understanding of anything else in this scene to suggest this premise was written for the sake of something that won’t happen or won’t be addressed. Even if she is right, this is only effective writing if yes, Cloud indeed falls for her and thought those feelings were real, and thus, finds out that he truly doesn’t feel that way once he regains his true self. There’d be no point to this line if he doesn’t feel this, otherwise for the sake of writing, it would’ve made more sense for her to suggest that what she just talked about (the memories/moments/happiness shared) were going to be what wasn’t real, specifically.

Until further information tells me otherwise, I believe Aerith is going to be wrong because of how the OG and relevant material presents what Cloud retains once he regains himself.

Let’s get into it.

Unlike the OG, Aerith is presenting the falsity of Cloud not through her own feelings, but that of HIS. She’s not assuming that the mantra of “embracing the moments” is something that Cloud won’t retain—it’s just the romantic feelings that will grow from them. We don’t have to worry about whether what Cloud retains from these moments and memories of Aerith are false. Why? Because that was completely fine in the OG. The moments, memories, and the bond they shared were all real to Cloud after he regains himself. And obviously, not just with Aerith, but with all his companions. If he didn’t retain what he gained while Aerith was alive, he just simply wouldn’t have any reason to value Aerith, it’d almost be like he doesn’t know her existentially at all. But that isn’t the case. Really, what he gained with his companions was never put to the test of falsehood in the first place.

But the romance? So specifically?

The “why” of everything that is said in this scene is done for some narrative purpose, representing future events and themes to be further implemented down the line. In a literal conversation about romantic feelings to be confirmed or denied story-wise—this is romantic storytelling, and whether you like it or not, it has been issued between the two characters. And of course, I believe it should make someone re-evaluate their understanding of the OG—not in the way where the story itself begets change (like that of the effect with CC, as you mentioned), but more so in realizing that the Remake is just a more expressive reflection of the romantic storytelling that was already in the OG. The writing and approach of the Remake is different than that of the OG, as we can even see between the expressions and details expanded on, like say for Cloud and Tifa’s bond and what that alludes to later down the line as well. This same thing is done for Cloud and Aerith, and what may not have been as openly expressed, is now done so too.

In the OG, the romantic storytelling between Cloud and Aerith played on the typical RPG standard of player-story interactive choice, but was contained in that by not having the story clearly address those choices through Cloud’s character after he regains himself. That and all relative materials like interviews or guidebooks relative to the OG—we only have a few direct romanticisms and some that can be argued as indirect given context. It’s not absent, but it’s unclear to the point it’s a discussion people still have 20+ years later. Also, by those possibly confused, player choice does not eliminate this through character representation—I’ll digress as it’s a whole other thing.

Cloud’s time with Aerith isn’t a mystery—we see everything between them and experience it as the player. We know what did or didn’t happen, what could be expressed, and what we’re left with in regards to romanticism is more of an unaddressed, almost irrelevant idea. What’s represented openly instead is everything else about their important bond, basically. Romanticism—it’s all in the air, not invalidated, but also not further represented for the character in the things referenced afterwards, like Cloud mentioning his memories of her, wanting to see her in death [Promised Land], Aerith being a friend, comrade, irreplaceable, etc. His time spent with Aerith was still something Cloud kept with him.

So, if the question for the OG is: did Cloud retain any romanticism for Aerith as a cherished feeling/memory, too?

I believe by right of the storytelling values presented in the game, that yes, he did. While the game and other materials make no attempt at trying to elaborate on Cloud’s favor towards Aerith, they also don’t negate it in void either from his character. A general good rule of thumb: usually when you have romantic meaning issued between two characters, whether through parallels, symbolism, other characters, the characters themselves, etc.—if it’s something that isn’t confirmed (e.g. confessions or explicit showing of romantic interest) OR isn’t countered or denied significantly (obviously not including the typical false denial by a character), then typically, you go with the positive-end that the representation there does indeed confirm that romanticism.

Think about it like this: remember that show you watched where the two lead characters had romantic subtext, but the show ends without them getting together? Yeah. If you’re at the point of claiming romantic subtext, you’re not doing so for the sake of saying the authorial intent is to show non-romance, but to show romanticism in a subtle way. There are a myriad of writers who have this style, and getting a direct confirmation or explicit showing of romance isn’t always in the cards for how that storytelling is going to be expressed. But, that hardly erases what is still intended to be understood.

The thing about Cloud and Aerith, the romanticism that can be understood from Cloud IS indeed never confirmed, not like how it was for Tifa. Which, I do advocate this actually does showcase how his romantic feelings for Tifa have a further depth than of that for Aerith given the lack of relevancy in comparison. However, his feelings for Tifa don’t negate what he felt for Aerith in totality, not to the point of being evidence of absence. The OG and further materials paint the picture that, after Aerith’s death, Cloud still remembers and cherishes her as a comrade—the memories, the moments. All of it. What’s understood is that everything that Aerith was to Cloud was carried over and fueled his reason to want to see her even in death—if romanticism was a part of those memories, those moments, no matter how small in the grand scheme of their connection, we can’t cherry pick it out of existence just because it doesn’t take expressive priority. From the game itself, I would use the “positive-end” method to understand that the romanticism there IS a part of the character, and if I include representations from other media or interviews, the authorial intention becomes much more clear.

As for the depth of these feelings? Again, Cloud’s time with Aerith isn’t a mystery. Whatever happens during that part of the game IS the depth of the feelings. I won’t identify it as a “crush”, but I just know it wasn’t deep enough to cause conflict in his relationship with Tifa because rationally (and by general storytelling standard), it would if so.

In any case, without a specific negative address of that romanticism, we can’t reasonably split apart what Cloud felt for Aerith from everything else he retained from his time spent with her.

And that’s what the Remake is basically addressing, pretty directly this time. I feel that way about a lot of things, and I absolutely believe the story is better off with it as we’re reaching more avenues for telling the FF7 story and development. What we’re getting here is something more direct and expressive than the OG, as I believe we will for most things, like we already have with Cloud and Tifa, Tifa and Aerith, and even Zack and Aerith. It’s doing much more. One could say that it might be making more of the romance than it was in the OG, but to me, I believe it’s about the same. The subject matter being brought up directly won’t change that on its own, but it’s curious that it was brought up this way.

So, if the OG didn’t represent the meaning of Aerith being right, that anything of which Cloud has for Aerith was made to be false after he gained his true self, then I don’t believe the Remake has a reason for doing it either. This is reinforced by the fact that Aerith being right just isn’t congruent with a lot of the other themes happening in the story there. It makes no sense to pinpoint the romantic feelings specifically as something Cloud didn’t feel—and again, his feelings for Tifa shouldn’t be it. How they decide to show the “answer” is up for thought as writers, as discussed, will find many ways to give meaning from their story. If the writing is consistent, what some CA fans expect won’t be what they will get, but CT fans acting like the meaning from the resolution won’t pop up ever again are already missing the point, too.

There are other interesting things though, like Aerith’s thoughts on death and this lifestyle point of view—how this connects to her hatred of the sky and those she has lost will be an interesting point for her character. Maybe even the anticipated arc of her time in death within the Lifestream and reuniting with Zack. We might finally get solid context for that. As for the black/dark feathers, I’m not sure if it even is, but it would certainly match the motif, like at the very beginning when Cloud is in the reactor. It flying by like that could simply be part of the reference to her death.

[jett-dawson]

BELLA ARC

The Rule

the rule states that any student who takes pictures of student work at rainbow high well experience an immediate expulsion. why does this only apply to bella? why not violet or karma, or anyone else who has pulled out their phones to take photos of things on campus? sounds like double standards to me.

the rule is dumb. especially since the students LIVE and WOR at rainbow high 24/7. they have a right to their work. the rule is dumb and is definitely a form of symbolism. i have seen this theory go around the fandom before & i have even addressed this theory before. i will address it again. stay tuned in the next slides for more on that.

The Timeline

we all knew bella was gonna get kicked out. whether or not we wanted it to happen, it was heavily implied in episode one that someone in the runway group was going to get kicked out. bella was the odd one out. she’s not in the wave one lineup, she’s not a part of the actual rainbow, and she was (more or less) a surprise to us when first seeing teasers for episode one. after that, the series of events through the first episodes had absolutely nothing to do with bella’s expulsion. there was no lead up! it was very sudden and the rule was very new to us. never was this rule stated before.

while i hate that it was written like this, i think i may know a meaning. this is a kids show. we are consuming children’s media. there is absolutely nothing wrong with that & anyone of any age is free and welcome to enjoy kids cartoons. what we have to understand is that this media isn’t exactly targeted towards us. i’m sure MGA, the company, is aware of us older fans. they use social media for that matter. that is where you find older fans. so that is where they get direct feedback from us. anyway... this show is obviously targeted towards a younger audience. if they were to extend the plot line, younger kids may not catch onto a lot of stuff that us older fans would. that’s not necessarily bad, but it doesn’t seem to be what the writers want. they write with simplicity, while still keeping in mind of laying out specific things in the show for specific reasons. so this sequence of events was written for younger kids to understand. bella was written & planned to be kicked out from the very beginning. kids may not have known this. so they introduced a rule that was unheard of so they have a reason to kick out bella. do i agree with this method? no. absolutely not. do i think they could’ve done better in finding a way to kick bella out? yes. absolutely. but younger kids will look at this and see that Bella broke a rule. Bella got kicked out. simple as that.

Symbolism

there have been theories that have gone around the fandom on the symbolism behind bella’s arc. her character, removal, and replacement all seem to line up with a real life sequence of events. allow me to explain.

bella is definitely a reference to barbie. her shirt is a direct take on a barbie shirt we have seen before. her character/personality is almost a lot like barbie if you think of it. if you’re into dolls and you’re into the community, you will know that Barbie/Mattel is MGA’s main rival. they have been going at it for years. constantly trying to dominate each other. MGA has made it very clear that they do not like Mattel. the creator of rainbow high himself stated that he “respects” barbie but believes it is time for her to leave the shelves and retire. it’s time for something new, something fresh, something modern.

think of it in the rainbow high timeline. bella(barbie/mattel) is living in this world of rainbow high(mga). the creator of bratz created the bratz concept while technically working for mattel. it just so happened that he was on leave. he took the idea over to mga and they went with it. mattel got mad, claiming the work as their own.

the rule of rainbow high can be related to this. whatever work is made at rainbow high stays at rainbow high. if any third party gets involved then you are due to immediate expulsion. this just so happened to bella.

bella/barbie was working on something she wanted to take to an outside source. rainbow high said no. this is our work. bella/barbie took it outside anyway resulting in an expulsion. bella is pink. pink is not part of the initial lineup. she reached the end of her rainbow.

amaya comes in. amaya resembling all things rainbow high. amaya the main character. she is the embodiment of rainbow. her character revolves around everhthing this company has preached for rainbow high. she is new. she is fresh. she is modern. she replaced bella. (no, i do not blame amaya for any of this. amaya is a whole other story)

barbie is flopping. barbie is not doing well. mga wants to take barbie down. mga is dominating the toy isle. they have created many successful lines and will probably continue to do so for awhile. bella is barbie. amaya is mga. amaya took over. mga took over.

Bella Herself

now i do not blame bella one bit for going and doing what she did. yes, she broke a rule. whether or not the rule is stupid, she did it. and she got what she asked for.

but you have to keep in mind who she is. bella is a young girl, age 14/15. at that age... i, too, would’ve done just about anything to work with my idol. someone i admired so much has practically thrown out an opportunity that i’m positive i could win. i would most definitely go for it. and bella did. but the problem was taking a picture. bella is known to be impulsive. we can see this in several different episodes where she wanted to complete the tasks given to her and to help her friends complete theirs. even though jade did her very best to persuade bella not to do it, bella chose to. she consciously chose to. now what i think a lot of people haven’t realized is that bella literally pulled nearly 2 all nighters contemplating on what to do. the first night she stayed up thinking about the internship and making the set. the other night she spent running around the school with jade and taking the photo of the art. this poor girl must’ve been tired. she was conflicted. do you risk your dream school and everything that comes along with it for a summer internship? or do you wait for another opportunity that could possibly never come again? if bella were older and more matured, i’m sure she wouldn’t have done it. but she is young. and she has learned from this experience.

unfortunately... she was expelled on the spot without any warning. we still haven’t gotten any closure on who saw her sneak the picture. that’s very suspicious but then again... it’s probably just poor writing. but with what we can assume, they probably involved bella’s space & privacy to get that information. anyway. bella had no bad behaviour whatsoever prior to this situation. rainbow high is a hard school. they are very tough on their students. they gave bella no chances. she didn’t even have much time to process it, pack her things and properly say goodbye to her friends. it all happened so fast. she said it herself... “i cant believe this is happening” yeah me either

as for the teachers... yes. they are doing their jobs. i have seen this point being made several times and i agree! technically they are! but RH is lowkey a messed up school system. they pressure their students day in and day out to be the very best and do the very best. i get why, but it’s to the point these students are sleep deprived. staying up all night to do assignments and have escape rooms. having to start class five minutes after completing night assignments. so much to the point that jade’s response to the question “what will u so if u pass the runway project?” in Violet’s AMA was “SLEEP!” this school is messed up. working like a big company and claiming these poor students hard work as their own is mean. and these teachers support it by working at this school. they may be doing their job, but they’re allowing this poor situation by being a part of it. this can be related to REAL life in places like media and the music industry. i have little knowledge on it, but you can compare it to the situation with Taylor Swift and how she technically doesn’t own a bunch of the music that she made. i believe it has to do with legal matters, and if i remember correctly something she got involved with when she was only young. yeah. theres that thing again. getting involved when you are only young. same with bella. there’s a direct correlation and that’s where i believe that type of symbolism could potentially come in to play.

this opportunity that was given to bella was life changing. and it was a SUMMER internship. SUMMER. if RH operates anything like schools IRL, they’d have to give their students a summer break. why was it so major to them when bella could still work for.. i mean attend to rainbow high all year then take the summer of for the internship. something that rainbow high could’ve looked good for having!

again, if RH operates anything like an IRL school, schools often pay attention to their students and outside opportunities. opportunities that boost the students status. the better the students, the better the school. with this high-end, once in a lifetime opportunity, bella could’ve gotten it and not only done better for herself but better for rainbow high itself.

bella knows what she did. and i know she realizes the consequences, especially now. but this poor girl has suffered through so much. all for this drama to her exploited on a very popular & very exclusive drama channel.. the vi life. but no way in heck was any of that fair.

Amaya Raine

i don’t wanna dwell too much on this one since i haven’t really seen much drama about it lately and i’ve already said enough before. but amaya is definitely not to blame. she had absolutely nothing to do with bella’s expulsion as far as we know. i remember there being fan theories that she would be the one who had found a way to tattle on bella, securing her own spot at rainbow high. as far as we know, this is not true.

amaya had been wait listed for her dream school. it’s lucky but kind of underwhelming. so the moment she got the call that she finally had a spot in RH, she was beyond excited, not knowing what was ahead of her. oh, yeah, btw, not gonna ignore the fact that they secure a spot for amaya THE SAME NIGHT bella took a photo of the artwork, not knowing she was gonna be caught and then expelled. in her mind, she was positive she wasn’t caught and wasn’t gonna get in trouble. it’s the fact the staff was very prepared for this all under 24hrs.

anyway. amaya was already hella nervous. she seems to be an anxious person and was definitely wanting to make the best first impression. heck, she even made her own outfit so she could stand out! but unfortunately to her surprise, she was greeted with a bunch of frowns and a few dirty looks. she was forced into this situation with absolutely no warning and had to put up with everyone disliking her at first (except our favourite ray of sunshine, our mutual blue bby & our drama chasing diva)

so it’s unfair for amaya to be blamed for all of this when she didn’t even know. yeah, i am sad that jade was viewing her so wrongly. but i cannot blame jade. jade is sorta stubborn and obviously struggles with major change. she lost the one she was closest to and suddenly was forced to adjust to this new girl who took bella’s place. if i were as cold of a person as jade, i’d have that exact same reaction. she didn’t wanna believe bella was gone. she didn’t want to experience this change. she didn’t bully amaya, thank goodness. she just paid little to no mind to her. of course she threw her a couple angry looks and was very brief with her whenever she spoke. but eventually they made up. no one was bullied, no one is mad.

FINAL COMMENT THEN I AM DONE

yea ok if you bully me or anyone else for simply digging into RH lore then you can leave. or i’ll just block of that’s easier for you. some of u only watch at surface level and that is okay! if that’s what you enjoy, k. cool. you do you.

some of us dont watch at surface level and that is also very very okay. some of us want to get as much as possible out of rainbow high, given the circumstances. so we dig into it more than others might. some of us try to find the symbolism or pick up on tiny details that had gone by unnoticed. some of us go as far as redesigning the characters and reimagining their personalities and life at rainbow high. creating fun headcanons and making cool associations. just don’t bully people who do that. don’t get mad at us and tell us “getting too deep into this is worthless” “you’re not gonna get a job in life if you sit and defend a character all day”

news flash, it is some people’s literal jobs to read pieces of art and media and analyze it. english majors literally do this exact thing. heck, it may be more complex than this. but anyway. stop telling people that. can we normalize enjoying this without being insulted for it??? if you don’t wanna enjoy the episodes then okay. cool. you do that. i’ll go analyze my favourite characters and enjoy as much of the show as i can because i find enjoyment in this <33

[aizawaskittenwhore]

  𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

words:3.7k

pairing: aizawa x fem!reader

warnings: tw mention of blood, tw mentions of death, mentions of drugs in case you forgot this is a cartel au, murder, swearing, keigo being a cocky lil fucker, sexual harassment towards the end cause yakuza men suck

rating: 18+ cause shit gets real this chapter

a/n: i FINALLY FINISHED IT FUCK YES chapter two mothafuckas!!! i’ve been having so much fun brainstorming everything to come, and here you’re gonna really get a feel for how big this cartel is. player two, f/n l/n, you’re up! <3

all rights reserved ©️aizawaskittenwhore. do not copy, repost, or modify.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ↳ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

September 13th, 2181

2:56pm

Musutafu, Japan

“Hold the fuck up. This doesn’t make any sense, I mean—these are Pros. Well known and well respected Pros, at that. The hell would they be tryna’ run a fucking cartel for?!?” Ken Takagi (more commonly known as Rock Lock) rubbed the bridge of his nose in confusion, not understanding the motive or correlation. “I mean think about it. These motherfuckers got more money than they know what to do with. Endeavor is a shareholder in goddamn Nintendo, Hawks owns his own fucking agency and line of sports cars, and I could’ve sworn I saw Eraser getting Shinsou fitted for a fucking Cuban on his birthday a few months ago. It’s not like they’re strapped for cash these days.” Ken huffed, the agent’s arms crossed as he leaned back in the conference chair.

In an attempt to try and broaden the range on your current investigation, your department recruited the help of several Pros to provide reinforcements in Japan, the States, and wherever else sales were being made. Going undercover was already plenty dangerous, and going alone was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Enlisting the help of Rock Lock, Ryukyu, Miruko, Fatgum, Edgeshot and plenty of others was relatively easy; these were Heroes that had experience with smugglers and narcotics-based operations, so when you’d approached them with the task at hand, they’d happily agreed.

However, some needed more convincing than others.

“Takagi. Think about it. Sure, they may not be living paycheck to paycheck, but look at the timeline.” You state, looking over your shoulder towards the holographic board displaying an interactive timeline of the investigation, including photos, invoices and even audio recordings pulled from surveillance cameras. “Two years ago, we seized a truck containing approximately 78 kilograms of crack cocaine. When we questioned the driver on where he was taking it and where he got it from, he didn’t budge. Luckily for us, the dumbass wasn’t smart enough to avoid a paper trail, leaving the insurance documents in the glove compartment when we’d taken him into custody. The insurance company was under the name “Target Lance”, but after doing some digging on the name we found out the corporation went bankrupt six months before and was eventually bought out by Chevrolet.” Pausing to return to the screen welded to the wall behind you, your hands swiped as you searched for the file reading December 5th, 2178: A live video feed of a towering skyscraper being built, the building’s name reading “Chevrolet Corvette Inc.” as it hovered above tens of stories above each worker.

“But you all haven’t heard the name Chevy in a while right? That’s because two weeks after that building was built, the hundred-million dollar company was bought out by Takami Corporate-”

“-who owns Takami Motors. Which is the brand associated with the Peregrine Speedsters, Hawks’ damned sports car line.” Ken finished for you, brown spheres twinkling in sudden clarity. “Now you’re speaking my language.” You nod, hands waving as you continue to brief the room of Pros.

“The Todoroki and Nintendo console collaboration didn’t happen until about earlier this year, March to be specific. Which is quite convenient..since around that time the price of cocaine per gram stabilized in both America and Japan, rising from $112 to $138 bucks a pop. I’m nobody to speak on looks either, but for as long as we’ve known of him, Eraser has dressed like a depressed college student with insomnia that doesn’t understand the concept of soap or a pair of clippers. Now he’s got his wife in Cartier bracelets and getting his shirts tailored because the collar “doesn’t allow him enough room for his capture weapon”?!? Bullshit.” You huff, stifling a smile as you watch Miruko and Edgeshot snicker in their seats at your...blunt observation.

“It makes sense. Three years ago all our agencies, including those overseas, started cutting our checks down by half. They can barely afford to pay us a quarter of what we used to make, and these guys are making these lavish purchases while we all starve?? No way. Something’s fishy, and it’s damn sure not this takoyaki.” Fatgum spat, hands quivering with rage as he struggled to grasp the food with his chopsticks.

“Fatgum’s right. Hero unemployment is at a staggering 8.7 percent. Meanwhile, these men are spending money like it’s going out of style. It makes no sense.” Miruko pondered, Ryukyu folding her hands in her lap as she voiced her approval for immediate action. Edgeshot nodded in agreement, brows furrowed in frustration at this blatant disregard for the law. “So we’re all in agreement that our own people have resorted to breaking the law. Cool, got it. Question is, why? And what the hell are we gonna do about it?” Ken demanded, his patience having worn thin from all this speculation.

“Good question. I think they’re trying to take advantage of the tough spot the Hero Commission is in right now, manipulate that vulnerability and use it for their own gain. They’re not invulnerable to the tough times Pros are facing in the workforce. So they’ve gotten together to try and make it work for them, even if it means breaking the law.” You query, hands typing furiously at the virtual screen to pull up the files of each Hero, displaying all the current information on them from their blood type to each known family member. “These three banding together though? Along with other people? There’s no way. They hate each other. Or at the very least couldn’t get anything done even if they did have a common goal in mind.” Edgeshot murmured lowly.

“I thought so too. But then it hit me: it’s not just some flimsy group project. Sure, crime has gone up since the formation of this cartel, but nobody who holds any rank has been murdered or harmed in any way. No no no, these guys are singing in tune for now...which means there’s a damn good choir director among them. So I’ve volunteered to go undercover, work my way through this organization and figure out just how high up this goes.” You assert, shoulders rigid and chin aloft as the harnesses of your costume frame your figure.

“Alone?? Are you outta your goddamn mind? Let me go, you’ll need back up-” Rock Lock sputters, hands fanning out in shock.

“No way. What about your wife, your kid?! This isn’t just some average drug bust, we’re dealing with powerful men in possession of superhuman abilities that have the game on lockdown. You’ve got too much to lose, more than any of us anyway. Edgeshot and I will go, we’ve seen the other side of the law before, and our quirks are better suited for stealth should anything go wrong.” You fire, eyes narrowing into slits. “The rest of you will be working in tandem with the DEA and our resources, and we’ll report back to you with all future developments. We’ll also need you to be ready to fight at a moment’s notice, if we need it.”

A thick silence clogged the air, Ken settling back into his seat across the table. His amber eyes flickered in irritation before huffing in acceptance, the situation being out of his hands. All the conference participants’ gazes fixed in determination, some with anger. The tense aura weighed on everyone present before Miruko cleared her throat, ivory teeth gleaming in a smirk.

“Well we’ve got a solid plan. So all I wanna know is...when do we start?

June 2nd, 2182

In all honesty...you thought the nickname was just a sad attempt to stroke his ego. But seeing the way over seventy commercial-size planes and approximately 30 seaplanes sat aloft balmy concrete in the Guadalajara sun showed you exactly why they called Hawks “Lord of The Skies”. Arrays of laborers with avian-oriented quirks loaded kilo after kilo of coke on to each and every plane, some by hand and others by forklift. Welders were personally hand selected by Keigo himself to eliminate the issue of utilizing every available inch of space; each vessel having been stripped of everything from the seats to the built in mini-bars (much to Keigo’s chagrin). From where you stood in the scalding hot beams, the runway seemed to extend for miles as it brimmed with visible heat-waves.

Dressed in a simple black tank top, black biker type shorts, aluminum plated gauntlets, steel toed combat boots and harnesses that encapsulated the curves of your body before coming to a stop at your thighs, you silently rejoiced in the airflow your gear allowed you in spite of the color. The bandanna atop your hairline helped to absorb some of the sweat, which was a bonus.

“Not bad for a starter fleet huh? The wingspan on these babies almost makes me jealous.” A rich and decadent voice called from your left. Sleek carmine appendages and brassy blond hair entered your peripheral vision, giving way to the man who ran the show: Keigo Takami. Adorned in a pair of low rise denim jeans that were so incomprehensibly tight they accentuated every bit of his dick (which was likely intentional), a plain white tee and ebony cowboy boots that looked like they cost three times what you make in a week; he most definitely looked the part of the People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive” and Playboy’s “Player of the Month” titles he’d earned. Luminous olive skin glistened with sweat, droplets sliding down the deep v neck of his shirt with ease; the way the daisy-hued fabric stuck to his crafted abdomen leaving nothing to the imagination. Tourmaline and Argentium piercings dangled effortlessly from both ears, and if you weren’t so hell-bent on putting the motherfucker in jail you would’ve had no problem admitting how attractive he really was.

“Starter fleet? You’re about to put Delta out of business, look at this shit!” You guffaw, arms folded, an eyebrow raised in astonishment at his “humble” admission. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and then some.” Keigo chuckles, breath hot against your ear the instant he bends at the waist, hands settled in his pockets with that cocky aura about him.

“-And having your damn breath against my ear in 107 degree weather will, respectfully, get you my foot up your ass. I didn’t fly down here to get treated like one of your poor interns. I came here to make money, so let’s talk it.” You lash, the climbing tempature slicing your tolerance for bullshit to shreds.

“Shit. Straight to the point huh? I like it. You wanna talk shop, say no more. Over lunch though, I’m starving out here.” Keigo clicks his teeth with a grin, escorting the two of you towards the very jet he’d arrived in. “A little unknown fact about me, usually I hate flying ”conventionally”. Gives me anxiety, and I’m awful company when I’m nervous.”

Settling into the light taupe hued cabin, you observe the not-so-subtle elements of class. Ivory shochu bottles with intricate crystalline glasses to match, the bar fully stocked with gold accents along the upholstery. Plates of costly Kobe style beef rested atop spotless porcelain, romaine lettuce coupled with grilled applewood bacon, chicken, avocado and buttermilk dressing settled into envy-inducing black marble bowls. The plane was spacious, and certainly cost a pretty penny or two. “You’re upfront, so I’ll be honest with you. As of right now, this plane is the last thing I’m worried about-” Hawks mutters lowly, dijon eyelets tapering into thin slivers.

“-It’s the Shie Hassaikai making their encore appearance, and with the Colombians at that.”

You choke on a sip of Vega Sicilia, pupils dilating at the thought. 

“Now you spoke about wanting to make some money, right?” You nod, heart rate steadily rising. 

“What if I could offer you something more? Something of...extensive value.” Keigo drawled, dark undertone flooding the air like a thick smoke.  “Like what, Takami?” You inquire.

“A seat at the table.” He shrugs, like one would if they were discussing something as trivial as ice cream flavors or Friday night plans, not the reorganization of a crime syndicate. “You’ve been workin’ for me shy of a year now right? Somethin’ like that? Anyway..”

He takes a deep, contemplative swig of the chestnut liquid, eyes boring into yours. 

“You’re efficient, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. Good help’s hard to find in our line of work, and before you know it, this little hierarchy is gonna go under some..reorganization. Only the people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty will have a place in the new order, so I want you there.”

“What’s the catch? I’m not dumb enough to just assume this is some promotion for busting my ass.” You tread, brain working double-time to try and decipher just what Keigo’s getting at. “Clever girl. It’s a simple task, in and out.” He assures, middle and ring finger sliding a matte-finish photo across the mahogany. Displayed was Kinan Zango, a member of the Shie Hassaikai’s middle rankings shaking hands with Joaquin Fuentes, a Columbia native known for having a body count in the double digits. 

“Another fact about me: Only one thing heightens my anxiety more than planes...people who fuck with my money. This asshole Kinan’s been selling my routes to the fucking Columbians and pocketing the profits, and getting 20% of the product as a little “thank you” when he knows nobody moves coke through the Gulf other than Takami fucking Keigo. He’s becoming a problem, and I don't like those.” Kei growls, left eye twitching minutely. His nails are sinking into the polish of the wood, his energy vehemently furious.

“Take care of this for me, and you’ll be my plus one to Guadalajara tomorrow.”

The general public often made the mistake of writing Keigo off as just your average “pretty boy”. Whereas a trained eye could see that while he may be pretty, he was nobody to be tested. The sheer intellect he possesses to seek, hand-craft each and every route, assign planes to their designated locations along with alternatives should there ever be an issue? He just didn’t get enough credit. 

So he took major offense when someone had the audacity to treat his hard work as though it was theirs.

Besides.. you got a man with looks, money and bloodlust? Tch. You’ve just created a monster.

You weren’t necessarily opposed to the idea of ridding the world of another drug-dealing degenerate, but the idea of casually committing a murder as a DEA agent in a foreign country just didn't sit right with you. Undercover agents weren’t permitted a “license to kill” should the investigation call for it either, so it was between committing a murder as government agent, or declining Keigo’s request and missing out on a front row seat to the cartel’s entire operation.

The silence that followed his sentence was deafening. Ice cubes chimed loftily as they swirled around inside his glass, clear liquid sloshing around while he awaited an answer.

Your jaw sets, eyes piercing into his. 

“Consider it done.”

Blood spattered onto the pale concrete, moonlight illuminating the scarlet hues. Your knuckles throbbed with pain, the sensation blossoming through your hand as your lips curled back in a snarl, vigorously ridding your hands of the other man’s bodily fluids. 

“ If you really think coming after me for that bird brained motherfucker is gonna change anything, you got another thing fucking coming.” Kinan spat, nose steadily flowing with red. His lip was busted, face splotched with yellowing purple bruises. Tugging at his restraints he thrashed, mouth spewing white-hot venom.

“You’re talking a lot of shit for a middle-ranking yakuza who thinks some new coke routes is gonna keep the Hassaikai from dumping your body on the side of some road in Zacatecas.” You observe, sending a harsh kick between the mans ribs, steel toed boots making an audible crack. “The Japanese are like Dixie Cups to them...”‘use em’ once, then throw em’ away”, right? You’re a fool if you think your days aren't numbered once you wear out your welcome.”

“Fuck you. You’re little boy toy threw a temper tantrum, so he sent you to “take care of things”, isn’t that right?” Kinan coos, eyes softening in a mocking pout. 

“Trust me, you're not the first slut Takami’s been sticking it in that he’s sent to kill me. Only difference between you and the rest of those bitches-” He huffs, head craning back against the metal chair to let our a soft breath of laughter. “-is that you’re gonna put up a fight.”

Suddenly his bones began to shift, popping and snapping as his skin began to pool below him; you recoiled in fear watching his body slowly slip from his imprisonment like gelatin exits a mold.

“I’ve got elastic bones kid! Whatever breaks just snaps right back into place.”

Skin stretching and pulling as he regained his original form, legs sprinting towards you. Before you could fire off your Quirk’s sonic blast his grip seized the back of your neck, a blade taking residence just below your left eye; it’s tip pressing uncomfortably into your water line. 

“Now, if you're good, I’ll make it quick. Though I’m known for being pretty... through with my toys.” Kinan leers, a hand slowly slithering down your sides to reach for the muscle of your ass. 

“Go to hell, and die there while you’re at it!” You shout.

Bile creeping into your throat, you seize the momentary shift in energy, generating a small sound wave that sent Kinan a few feet to your left; giving the two of you some distance. Your Quirk allowed you to absorb sound to power-up your physical movements, or send it out in the form of sonic blasts or sound waves, so the louder the sound, the more power it gave you. Readying your fists in anticipation for combat, you silently willed for a sudden disruption in the deafening silence as he rushed back to your rigid body. 

What you didn’t anticipate was that the sudden bang that filled the air, and the lifeless body of Kinan dropping to your feet with a thud, his head...

excavated, for lack of a better word.

“Don’t you know the entire point of having backup while under cover is to... call for backup?” Edgeshot snarked, striding towards you, gun settled back into it’s holster. His foot carelessly nudged the bleeding man before removing a Polaroid camera from his knapsack and snapping a photo of the carnage.

“W-what the fuck?! Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful when I say this, but what the absolute fuck did you just do??? We’re government agents, in a foreign country, we can’t just fucking murder these assholes nor do we have the license to-” You sputter, brows arching in frustration.

“This was your ticket into Guadalajara. I just secured you box seats when you were this close to getting stuck in the damned nosebleeds. I believe the correct words you’re looking for are thank you.” Kamihara snaps, shoving the photo into your hand. 

“We’re in a world completely different from our own. It’s forgiveness first, and permission later down here. I don’t like it either...but it’s just the way things are.” He sighs, hanging his head while his shoulders settled like the solar system rested on them. 

“I’ll take care of this. Now take that to Hawks, and don’t you dare fuck it up. Don’t let me have killed this poor asshole in vain.” 

You nod, stepping over Kinan’s body. 

Good riddance.

“Thank you, by the way.” You putter. Kamihara returns the sentiment with a nod, before turning to the corpse before him, phone raised to his ear as he spoke with whoever was on the opposite line, eyes that were once grey now swam with deep scarlet.

“Excellent work! I won’t lie, I had a feeling you were hardcore, but damn, this is some seamless shit! You deserve my praise.” Keigo beams, pearly teeth sparkling in the light of the cabin. Nodding in acceptance you grasped his hand upon his offering, permitting him to escort you towards your respective aircraft.

“Well, a promise is a promise. And if nothing else, I’m most certainly a man of my word. Meet me at this airstrip same time tomorrow, 8am. Pack light, Mexico’s a bitch in the summer, though you already know that.”

“Got it. Pleasure doing business with you, Hawks.”

“Call me Keigo, if you want. I hate all the formal shit, long as we got respect, that's all I need.” He shrugs.

“Understood. See you tomorrow, Keigo.” You affirm, climbing the ladder to your jet, body visibly relaxing at the thought of rest.

“Wait--before you go, I wanted to ask ya. What’s with the whole ancient hieroglyphics tat you got goin on, on your spine? It just looks familiar, is all.” He queries.

Home.

November 12th, 2174.

“Y/N! I found somethin’! It’s this super cool protection rune I found in grandma’s things. Check it out! It wards off all evil, and whoever’s in possession of it can, like, balance their energy with the divine power.”

“You’re such a hippie, I swear to god.” You grin.

“Don’t hate because my chakras are balanced and yours aren’t, bitch.” She grinned, index and thumb coming together to flick your forehead. 

“At least take it with you for your exam, for good luck! Pleaseeeee! I think it’ll really help.” Her doe eyes melting your steely resolve. You could never deny her, those eyes constantly solidifying her role as the younger sister. 

“...Only if you’ll clean my room for me when I come back for Christmas.” You demand, an eyebrow raised in mirth.

“Deal.”

And even though you never did admit it to her, that tiny piece of paper tucked into your bra did more for you during that exam than any late night cram session ever could’ve.

“It’s a protection rune. To ward off all evil energies, spirits and all that shit.” You mutter.

“Hm. Looks like it works, seeing how well tonight panned out for ya. Could use me one, would probably keep old man Todoroki out my fuckin’ hair.” He chuckles, hands releasing from the railing as he threw you a wave.

“But I wouldn’t worry too much about tomorrow, anyway. I got a feeling you’re gonna fit in just fine with us.” He smirked.

Ah.

If only that were true, Keigo.

taglist! : @liliesoftherainmain @therealwalmartjesus

[transsexualhamlet]

so about norman’s ethics

The thing that a lot of people don’t understand about Norman is that he doesn’t believe in the like, political sentiments that he acts on in the slightest. Yeah, this doesn’t make it ok that he did a bunch of shitty stuff, but it’s a misconception to say norman like, genuinely believes fucking eugenics are a good thing.

And yet, he decides to act on the idea to degenerate and genocide the demons and seems not to understand why Emma wouldn’t agree with him. People’s explanations of this seem to be pretty much one of two minds, either:

His morals are corrupt: Norman wants all the demons dead because what they did makes him think they’re all bad and don’t deserve the respect humans get, which is understandable but still wrong, or

His morals are intact but he ignores them: Norman feels bad that he’s doing a bad thing and does it anyway because he can’t find a better way out, which honestly makes what he did worse, though Tragic.

The second one is more accurate, but still doesn’t completely explain his ideas.The truth is that, in my opinion, he just barely understands the concept of morals in general, and what’s ‘messed up’ is simply his priorities. That sounds like I’m saying he’s a twisted cycle path but I swear I’m not, it’s just like him having low empathy. This is another, autism thing, and it’s another thing that I have, so I’ll try to explain it as best as I can?

Personally, I understand and try to follow sociatal expectations for moral things like, you know, do not kill people and what not. Because it’s bad or... whatever. And although I can cognitively understand the reasons why people think so, I don’t value it in the same way. Obviously I wouldn’t kill a person, there’s no need for me to in a world like this, and it would be inconvenient and probably make me feel bad despite not understanding why it is bad. But I’ve known from a very young age if I had the power and reason to kill someone, I absolutely would, no questions asked. Not even the necessity, just a logical reason. Most of the time this means nothing and isn’t applicable in the real world, because most of the people around me would be negatively affected by it. But it means nothing to me personally, and if prompted I could change at the slightest reason.

This is what I think we’re dealing with in Norman’s situation. 

Norman, in grace field, has no reason to violate any intagible laws of right and wrong, in most cases, until the escape arc happens. Yeah, I do believe Norman probably lied significantly more than the average child, because he didn’t see any reason not to, but I doubt it hurt anyone bad, they lived in, well, basically a neverland. He’s just a slightly off white little man. But when he is faced with a risky and dangerous situation, he might look Correct on the outside but the closer you look the more you realize his actions are directly impacted by the situation around him, completely independent of any internal moral compass. 

Ray wants to only escape with those three, because although he feels extreme guilt for being the way he is and completely understands it’s a selfish and terrible thing to do, he’s too cynical to accept any other options. Norman initially agrees with him, because Ray explains the risks. Emma then insinuates she wants to bring the other kids, giving ideas as to how. Norman then switches to Emma’s plan because he believes it can be achieved and he wants Emma to be happy, not because it would be wrong to do otherwise. At the same time, he later ships himself out, without much consideration to the others’ wishes against it, because now that it’s gotten impossible to have both, Emma’s and Ray’s safety is more important now than their happiness. Though he can understand that they’d not like that, it’s not that important to him in the long run. He will choose the path that offers them the greatest chance, if the one his friends want isn’t good enough.

When he was shipped out and taken to lambda, what happened is he was put in a situation where the stakes become much higher. There’s a different kind of situation, and the idea of simply running away from the demons is obviously not an option. When he escapes, and basically adopts the lambda kids- now he’s surrounded by people with the opposite morals and ideas as Emma. These kids want revenge, they would be happy to kill the demons, their ideal situation involves that and trying to reach any compromise would be unsatisfactory. The overwhelming majority of the kids agree with killing the demons, and that idea makes him seem stronger and gives him more certainty and control over the situation, even if it’s difficult and hurts him personally, making him a “Bad Person” to Emma. 

Norman harbors no personal hatred towards the demons, nor any specific desire to kill them. He just doesn’t see any viable reason not to, and killing them provides both him and the people he cares about with a more beneficial situation. Emma is now the minority, and even though she provides an idea that could work, Norman, after seeing so much pain and suffering, is no longer willing to take the risk for her, like he was in grace field. He is incapable of understanding why she values a sense of right and wrong more than the actual statistics of how well one or the other could work- yes, they had different experiences, but she lost other people because she decided to take risks, and she still believes in it? It simply doesn’t fucking compute.

An important aspect to consider is that it still does make him feel bad not to follow a more traditionally accepted route. He might have low empathy but he’s not an emotionless robot. Not understanding morals doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a concience, though it’s much more ambiguous and generally equates to any other thing, such as the actual convenience, details, or certainty of a plan. It’s not of any more importance, and he is in a situation now where it’s inconvenient to pay attention to, more so than in grace field. So not following a Nicer route does take a toll on his Feelings TM, same as it takes a toll on his literal body, but that’s a sacrifice he’s fine with, it’s a sacrifice that’s significantly smaller than the chance that someone he cares for could die.

Generally, most Lukewarm Takes on Norman can be disproven with this idea (pretty much anything that insinuates he would see the demons as less or like, he’s doing it because they did awful things to him, understandable but hey this isn’t tokyo ghoul and he’s not that kind of character), though everyone is obviously free to have their own takes and I doubt Shirai took his autistic coding into consideration, so it’s obviously my own idea.

Although Norman’s actions have correlation with Ray’s before, Norman isn’t disregarding his physical needs and trying to sacrifice himself out of any idea that it would make up for what he did, he’s doing it because it gives him more control over his own situation, he values his own well being less than his family’s, and he doesn’t understand why it would be Bad to do so. If we’re really digging deep, it’s likely he doesn’t want to have to experience any real consequences for his actions. He understands that they’re Bad, but this isn’t important to him, more than anything else. He doesn’t want to see Emma’s disappointment because it would complicate things.

After Emma and Ray, well, complicate things, ie face him and force him to see there are real consequences to his actions past Ambiguous Moral Obligations (ex. “you’re Taking Advantage the lambda kids” means nothing until he sees that it’s stopped them from being able to grow as people and forgive, “you’re neglecting yourself” means nothing until there’s an idea brought up that could fix him, “you’re trying to kill so many fucking people” means nothing until he sees that it’s hurting the human kids.) and that there’s a valid flaw in his personality past that- that it’s not a strong but a cowardly move, he can move forward and attempt to change things, possibly give himself a fucking break. 

In that situation, with other solutions that Emma and Ray have opened up actually seeming to work, he no longer finds it necessary to Be Terrible and hurt himself. This makes him feel better, because he doesn’t want to be Incorrect, it’s just a difficult thing for him to understand, when most other things come to him naturally. I think in the future he can be more cognizant of the fact that he’s more suceptible to doing generally, unacceptable things, and vows to lean more on Emma and Ray so he doesn’t end up going down the wrong path again, because to him they all look the same color.

Yes, this is my long ass way of telling Shirai why the fuck did you let Norman be a CEO. That’s a terrible fucking idea, he’ll become capitalism, guys?! Don’t let him do that. He needs to be in a job where like, he can use his skills without having to make Ethical Decisions like... an engineer or something. Computer scientist. IDK. Just not a fucking CEO, not in a management position for anything.

Honestly, it’s difficult for me to even use the alignment chart because I don’t understand morals enoughto put anyone in the Evil category because the idea of ‘evil’ doesn’t exist for me. So yeah, I’m projecting, but in conclusion I just have a bone to pick with anyone who wouldn’t call norman lawful neutral. 

[qqueenofhades]

I’ve been backreading your blog and history posts about TOG for the past couple of days and loving it so much! You are so great at explaining the context around these fictional characters to understand them so much better.

I read your post about how sodomy was sort of a lesser sin that someone should fast with bread and water for, especially compared to like magic and stuff, and I was wondering if you knew anything about how medieval Muslims viewed it? Like at a similar magnitude, or not a problem or highly frowned upon? I’ve read fics all over the spectrum, so I’m wondering if you have any actual historical/research insight you could bring?

Thanks! 💜

Thanks so much!

I will say that I work on gender, social, and queer history in medieval Europe, so by nature I know more about medieval Christian views on sodomy, but I do know something about medieval Islamic views as well. I answered this ask, which has a fairly decent list of scholarly work on queer premodern (and some modern) Muslims. (It also has a list on Muslims in medieval Europe more generally.)

I will also reinforce that obviously the views of sodomy as a sin in medieval Europe changed over time, but at the time period that I most often get asked about in regard to TOG (i.e. the First Crusade/eleventh century) it was indeed a fairly venial sin that wasn’t singled out above others. This changed as the twelfth century went on, and it became more harshly stigmatized, at least in ecclesiastical and clerical opinions, but this doesn’t necessarily coincide with a broader social stigma. (See Peter the Chanter complaining bitterly about how much queer stuff is happening in Paris at the end of the twelth century; the continued valorization of homoromantic bonds, which got even MORE valorized as chivalry developed; etc). There was never a time where medieval people we would identify as LGBT were accepted uncritically at all levels of society, but there sure as hell aren’t any times now either (and modern homophobia is often a lot more stringent, explicit, and exclusionary than any medieval variants thereto).

Anyway, about Muslims. Khaled al-Rouahyeb has written a very interesting-looking book (which I note I have not personally read yet, but I want to) entitled Before Homosexuality in the Arab-Islamic World, 1500-1800, which argues essentially that the category of “homosexuality,” i.e. specifically male/male sexual activity and identity/orientation, didn’t really exist in premodern Islamic sexual polemics and ethics, at least as we would define it. Instead, the narrative centered on whether the sexual partner was active (penetrating) or passive (penetrated), and like other cultural taboos around mlm sex, being the active/top partner in penetrative sex (since you were the phallic/manly partner) was generally okay, but being the penetrated person coded you as female and therefore inferior and suspect in your manhood. (Obviously, in mlm anal sex, someone has to be penetrated, so someone always ends up as the morally suspect half in that scenario.) This fits with medieval Islamic attitudes toward sex more broadly. The ghazals, or Arabic love poems, often contain intensely homoerotic images and themes as well as male/female ones. Probably the most notable in this regard was Abu Nuwas, an eighth/ninth-century Persian poet who has occasionally been viewed as a little TOO risque for general consumption. This doesn’t mean, again, that queer activity was a-okay across the board, but it existed in a complex and culturally and literarily negotiated sphere and there were certainly areas where it was practiced rather openly, just as it was in the medieval Western world. As I talked about in the long ask I answered, the twin cultural correlation of “Saracens” and “sodomites” (just like “Muslims” and “gays” in right-wing paranoia today) in medieval Europe also reflected a belief that the Islamic world was more accepting of non-heterosexual behavior, and that this was therefore, in the Catholic Christian institutional view, a Bad Thing. I take care to specify that since as we’ve seen, plenty of medieval Europeans themselves didn’t give a rat’s ass what the church said and carried on being queer anyway.

Also, Sultan Mehmed II, the conqueror of Constantinople in 1453, was pretty openly bisexual; he slept with both men and women, and one of his lovers was allegedly Radu the Fair, the brother of Vlad Dracula. In other words, at least for a late medieval Ottoman sultan, he could do whatever he liked in the bedchamber, with whoever, and judgments on the gender of his partners didn’t really enter into it. This gave rise to a certain brand of hysteria in Western Europe. The propaganda surrounding the fall of Constantinople contained an element of painting Mehmed as even more of a threat because of his liberate sexuality. In short, to put it bluntly, it was “the scary Muslim sultan will rape your children, including the boys,” which is pretty recognizable from its almost exact use in right-wing fearmongering about the evil pederastic gays today. Mehmed’s identity as the Muslim conqueror of the most important Christian city in the world, and someone who was known for being flexible in his sexual preferences, made it very easy to construct him as a hysterical boogeyman.

Obviously, most Arab/Islamic countries today have strict legal and official policies on homosexuality, but that doesn’t mean gay Muslims don’t exist (quite the contrary) or that these attitudes are universally accepted just because they happen to be the law. (Just like Americans disagree, often vehemently, with their government’s official policy.) Nor does it reflect anything about the complexity of homosexuality or mlm acts in the premodern Islamic world. (Anyone who calls medieval Islam “barbaric” has absolutely NO fucking clue what they’re talking about, take it from me.) So basically, Joe, as a queer/gay Muslim, experienced the same broad spectrum of attitudes, texts, and views on his preferences that Nicky would and did as a western European, and there was plenty of room for tolerance, tacit acceptance, literary celebration, or clerical condemnation of such, depending on when and where we’re talking about, and this varied by culture, society, and geography.

Thanks for the question!

[sapphire374]

When Stars Align

“Is this the second time we’ve both gotten stuck in the same elevator?” 

Wattpad Link

I would like to give a special thanks to @silver-inked for helping me when I went through writers block with this idea. I was able to figure out an idea cause of your help so thank you. :)

Background: The gang are at a Roller Skating competition. It’s sort of an AU that would take place in season three but there are no spoilers or mention of anything that correlates to season three. A character does mention Mitchel but nothing specifically about him is said. Ships included are Lutteo (with angst)  and Simbar. 

Luna and Matteo both entered inside the elevator to head upstairs since it was their turn next to compete. They stole glances from each other and it was just pure silence in the air. They both couldn’t help but stay angry at each other for their own reasons. 

“C’mon Emilia hurry up,” Ámbar demanded outside of the elevator.

“Can’t you see I’m trying!” Emilia replied. Emilia was frantically unscrewing the latch that contained all of the buttons of the elevator outside. She pulled out her scissors from her back pocket and snipped at one of the cords. The elevator stopped.

“It stopped..” Matteo noticed.

“Chico Fresa, what do you mean it stopped? Can’t you just press another button to go up.”

“None of them work. The elevator is stuck,” Matteo stuttered whilst frantically pressing all the buttons at once.

Luna covered her face in astonishment. Out of all the days and all the times it had to be now, right before it was their turn to perform and nonetheless with Matteo. The one person she didn’t even want to look at right now or even be with. Luna pulled out her phone. 

“Ugh there’s no service. What are we going to do?” Luna anxiously asked. 

“It’s ok, calm down Chica Delivery. Someone is bound to notice and try to use the elevator. They will let us go and we’ll be fine.”

“Clearly you’re forgetting one very important event. We were up next to skate and now we won’t be able to make it on time! Plus how are you able to stay so calm? You must not care so much about this, only your album is all you worry about.”

Matteo rapidly turned towards her. “Of course I care, it’s just in matters like these it’s important to stay calm. Plus you’re not so perfect either Luna. You haven’t stopped holding a grudge on me for what happened with the album and Bruno. You know I’m not like that anymore and I already apologized countless times,” Matteo rebutted.

“Ok maybe I went a little too far there but lately you’ve been just so distant from me and the gang. Whenever we talk about competitions you lose interest and the closer I try to get to you, the farther you move away.” Matteo stayed silent at her response. 

Luna broke the silence and said, “Well I’m going to try to call for help.”

“How?” Matteo questioned.

Luna yelled whilst banging at the door with her hand as a fist “HELP HELP! WE’RE TRAPPED IN HERE! HELP!” Matteo decided to do the same thing. 

“Aww hear that Emilia, they’re trapped. Poor things, well I guess they have to figure it out all on their own.” Ámbar and Emilia cackled together. Emilia picked up all of her tools and placed it in her backpack after screwing back the elevator button latch so there will be no evidence that it was them. 

“C’mon let’s get out of here so no one thinks it’s us.” Emilia ran out the hallway and so did Ámbar till she bumped into someone. Her black, fringe shoulder bag falling to the floor alongside her phone. “Watch where you’re goi- oh Simón! Uh what are you doing here?” Her mood and tone of voice quickly shifts when she notices it’s Simón.

Simón bends over to pick up Ámbar’s stuff like the gentleman he is. Ambar always loved it when he was nice to her but now wasn’t a good time. She had to hurry quick before the others suspect it was her. “I’ve been searching for Luna and Matteo. They’re needed now at the rink, they’re up next to skate. Have you seen them?”

Ámbar rapidly shakes her head, “No no I haven’t, sorry. Don’t worry too much about it though, they're bound to be found soon. In fact, they’re probably at the rink tying up their shoes, you know they’re never late to a performance.”

Simón scratches his head. “Yeah I guess you’re right. Hey, what are you doing here?”

Ámbar quickly makes up an excuse. “I was just… looking for the vending machine! I wanted to eat something before I prepared skates.”

“Oh say no more.” Simón stuffs his hands in his pockets scavenging for something. He pulls out two granola bars and smiles. “Here you go. You can have it. It’s not much but it’s something you can eat and not have to buy or waste your money.”

 Ámbar couldn’t help but smile at this sweet gesture Simón made. He always helps her, without thinking. Ámbar couldn’t help but wonder maybe there is somebody in this world who cares about her, could it be Simón? Would life be better if she just let her guard down to him, for him.

“HELP! HELP!” The staring contest between Ámbar and Simón spontaneously ended. “Do you hear that?” Simón asked Ámbar. “No no. Must be some kids playing outside.”

Simón immediately ran to the dressing room hallway. Ámbar changed her mentality on a “what if she did change” cause she feels at the end of the day he will always prefer Luna and the others. “Stupid Lunita always ruining everything. Plus, what’s the point of changing if he’s alway going to care for those losers and ignore me or leave me at the sidelines. I’m tired of being thrown to the side,” Ámbar wondered. 

Emilia dashed to Ámbar. “I came back. I thought you were right behind me running. If we stay any longer they will figure out it was us.”

“I know we have to hurry but our plan sort of backfired. Simón was able to hear these two idiots yelling from the elevator.”

Emilia puts her hand over her head. “No it can’t be. Well, fixing that elevator shouldn’t be easy and it's their turn now meaning they’ll miss it. We’re just going to have to hope that the judges don’t give them a second chance.”

Ámbar and Emilia escape the scene. Simón runs into the hallway. He notices the closer he approaches the elevator, the louder he hears the screaming for help. “Guys are you ok? Who is this in the elevator and what happened?”

“Simón! Simón! It’s us, Luna and Matteo! The elevator randomly stopped and there’s no service. Ever since then we’ve been trapped in here,” Luna announces.

“Oh I’ll go get Juliana now! Don’t go anywhere ok?”

“Guitarrista, where would we go, we’re trapped,” Matteo answered. 

“Oh yeah that’s right. Whoops.” Simón replied.

Simón runs off to go let the team know. Now it’s just Luna and Matteo…. alone. Luna sits down, bends her knees and lays her head on top with a gloomy expression plastered on her face. Matteo can’t help but stare at the way Luna feels depressed. He hates seeing her the opposite of her usual happy, cheery self. “Cheer up Chica Delivery, they’re coming soon to fix the elevator. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

“But Matteo, we missed our turn to skate and what if the judges don’t give us another opportunity. What if, cause of us, our whole team misses out on performing as well. We don’t know how severe the elevator issue is nor how long it will take and -”

Matteo cuts Luna off and tries to comfort her. “And everything will be okay. Look if those things do end up happening then we’ll have another opportunity in a future competition. Some things are just out of our hands, like this elevator incident in this case.”

“You’re right but we worked so hard for this competition.”

“And we'll work even harder for the next one,” Matteo being optimistic, hoping this would make her feel better. 

“Yeah you’re right.” Luna sighs.

The elevator turned to silence again. They couldn’t help but steal glances from one another. Oh how it was so hard to just speak to the other, they’re constantly overthinking and worried to put their heart out on the line. “Why do we always end up in arguments with each other,” they wondered. Matteo inhaled a large gulp of hair, tried to put his nerves on the sidelines and his courage to the test. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you these past days.”

Luna’s head shifted towards Matteo now. All her attention is now on him.

“It’s just I didn’t know how to react when seeing you constantly with Michel and I was worried there is something more between the two of you. I thought there was and tried to give you space, you deserve someone who truly loves you and cares about you. I didn’t want to get in the way of that but at the same time it hurt seeing you with him so I always tried to leave. Sorry if I ended up hurting you in any way from doing that. I would never want to hurt you or cause you any pain.”

Luna's lips slowly curved into a little smile. “Chico Fresa, thank you for being honest with me. Me and Michel are just friends, I can guarantee that. I also would like to say I’m sorry for being harsh and upset. Your  music deal was very important to you and I shouldn’t always prioritize these competitions, I should’ve been there to comfort you when Bruno cancelled it at the time. You were my boyfriend and I really did care about you, and still do. I think it was just I didn’t want to see you lose sight of yourself and care solely about your album and your success. Life is much more than that but I should’ve expressed myself better. I did notice though you have changed ever since you apologized. You now make more of an effort to get along with Simon and are even friends, which is so cute! I know it has been tough for you ever since Gaston left as well. Just know I will always be here for you, whenever you need me.”

Matteo smiled widely now. Luna’s words couldn’t have been any more comforting. He hates arguing with her but he loves these intimate moments, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all to get trapped in this elevator. Maybe it was meant to be, maybe it was their time for the stars to align.

Matteo and Luna both got up. Juliana and the gang were outside with an electrician fixing the buttons to the elevator. Luna and Matteo were so wrapped up in their conversation they barely even noticed. “Let’s make a deal Matteo. I will try to focus some more time in helping you out with your music if you will do the same with these competitions and actually get excited for them, and train with me.”

Matteo chuckled. He was beaming with joy and anyone who knew him could tell. “It’s a deal.” Luna took out her hand and Matteo shook it. Right after, while holding her hand shaking it, he pulled her in closer. They were only centimeters apart now. The air felt like it escaped their lungs and Matteo knew exactly what he was doing when he did it. “So Chica Delivery, is it true what you said about me? You still care about me?”

Luna looked up. Their faces were so close to each other, their noses touched. “Chico Fresa, you still have doubts, on me?!” Luna joked.

“Do you still have feelings for me too?” The sparks were reignited again and floating in the air. Luna tried to breath and her nerves couldn’t stop from taking over her. Great, now she forgot how to breath. Matteo caressed her cheek and now her skin feels like it’s on fire. Her heart couldn’t stop racing. She wanted to answer but she already knew he knew the answer as they kept leaning closer...and closer… and…

BING

The automatic doors have opened

Everyone stared at Luna and Matteo’s almost kiss. Luna and Matteo frantically moved their faces and stared in shock. They were not expecting the elevator to get fixed so fast. Jazmin had her tablet in hand and exclaimed, “YES I GOT IT ALL ON TAPE! Ja- Jazmin fans you all are in for a real treat this week!” Luna face palmed herself and couldn’t believe Matteo was laughing, even if he was trying to hide it.

[foodbytesback]

The Cereal Itself is the Least Interesting Part of Dippin’ Dots Cereal

While perusing the aisles of the store I work at, I noticed a couple of “new” (we’re always really behind on getting new products) selections in the cereal aisle: Dippin’ Dots flavors.  Always a sucker for a gimmick and always desperate for something to write about here, I grabbed one of each.  Curious as to just how behind I was on getting these, I turned to my go-to source of cereal news, cerealously.net, where he had a post from April announcing their re-release.  Yes, re-release, as the cookies and cream flavor had originally come out in 2018 alongside a banana split flavor, both featuring a cookie-cluster piece reminiscent of the crunchies inside an ice cream cake.  Alas, these clusters weren’t invited back for the reunion tour, and the banana split was replaced by a flavor the cereal aisles of 2021 have come to know all too well: birthday cake.  Dan Cerealously warned that chances are, without those clusters there would be almost nothing noteworthy about these (and also that birthday cake cereals are typically pretty boring).  But since he hasn’t written anything about these specifically, I guess I will have to.    

First things first: I can smell the cereal through the box.  I haven’t even opened them yet, but these boxes smell heavily of saccharine cereal.  This is one of those things that isn’t inherently a bad thing, but like… why is it happening.  How does the outside of the box still smell this strongly.

The cookies and cream ones are a bit of a mixed bag.  The white orbs have absolutely no taste to them whatsoever, save for a vaguely sweet glaze if you eat them dry.  The chocolate ones taste close enough to Coco Puffs to get the point across. When you eat them together, they are the sum of its parts.  Both pieces are also slightly softer than a Coco Puff, but every once in a while there’s one that’s almost tooth-shatteringly hard, which makes for a confusing eating experience.  

The birthday cake ones tasted fine for the first few spoonfuls.  They had enough of that vaguely eggy flavor to distinguish its flavor as “cake” and not just “sugar.”  However, as is often the case with a flavor this… subtle, by the time I was halfway through the bowl, it was extremely bland.  On the bright side, at least it didn’t have the slightly corny flavor the other ones did, as one would expect from a “multi-grain” blend vs the other one begin just corn.  They also left behind a coarse, brown dust floating in the milk that doesn’t really correlate with any of the color of the cereal pieces themselves? So that’s fun.

There…. really isn’t anything else I can really say about these cereals.  There’s nothing intrinsically bad about them but they aren’t good either.  There’s definitely nothing explicitly Dippin’ Dots about them.  With nothing else to say about it I have no choice but to talk about…. The box.

In short: much of the box art seems like a generic cereal box you would see in the beginning of a movie about some kind of dystopian suburbia, subtly foreshadowing that things might not be quite right.  The cookies and cream box has a maze, and the birthday cake box has a word search.  These are normal, back-of-the-cereal-box things.  But both prominently feature Frozeti the Yeti, an alleged Dippin’ Dots mascot that, upon googling, does exist to the extent that they have a costume for events, yet no one I know has ever seen him on any other piece of Dippin’ Dots paraphernalia.  It may also be worth noting that the word search features words like “liberty ice,” which also not a real thing, as far as any normal person is concerned.  

Both boxes also feature recipes like Rice Krispies Treats but with cookies and cream orbs and “breakfast parfaits” consisting of birthday cake cereal and yogurt, which maybe could be less “alien trying to figure out what humans eat” and more “cereal executive knowing they have a bad product and are trying to find any way to get people to finish the box.”   

The side flap opposite the nutrition facts advertises something called “Comfort Zone Camp.”  At first glance the name made me think this would be some sort of alt-right, “welcome to the real world, snowflake” bullshit about ripping kinds from their comfort zones, but apparently it’s for children who recently experienced the death of a parent or guardian.  So… that’s kind of a bummer, and a weird thing to put on the side of a bright and colorful cereal box for children.  

But the real kicker? It’s the one thing that any eagle-eyed cereal enthusiast would notice on sight, but I saved it for last for a very good reason.  This cereal isn’t made by General Mills, or Kellogg’s, or Post, or even Malt-O-Meal or some other generic cereal manufacturer.  

It’s made by a sporting goods company.    

OK, maybe calling PLB Sports & Entertainment a “sporting goods company” is a little over the top.  They specialize in merchandising deals where they take an athlete’s face and slap it on a box of generic cereal.  Some highlights of their product line, according to their online shop, include DeAndre’s Hop Box, HerrO’s Fruit Loops, Josh’s Jaqs (go Bills? I guess? This is the only one that even hints towards what team the person plays for), and the much less creatively named Field of Dreams Corn Flakes, with some select boxes autographed by Dwier Brown.  I don’t know who any of these people are.  But if you do, you can get their cereal.   

Notably absent from their online store, however, is Dippin’ Dots. Not even the company specializing in C-List athlete-branded cereals wants to be associated with these boring, bland spheres.  And since PLBSE only sells their products in select stores (seemingly mostly in the northeast, within driving distance of its Pittsburg facility?) Kroger and Publix shoppers will never get to experience these completely innocuous cereals.  

Conveniently, Dippin’ Dots themselves has seemingly also scrubbed all signs of this cereal ever existing from their website.  In order to find it at all, you have to go to their “merchandise” shop on Amazon, scroll down past the T-shirts and gummy vitamins, and even then they’re listed as “unavailable.” All google searches for Dippin’ Dots cereal brings up either the cerealously.net post I mentioned earlier or the 2018 iteration of the cereal.  Somebody at Big Cereal is trying to gaslight me into thinking this cereal doesn’t exist.   But I know they’re real.  I am holding the boxes in one hand and typing this with the other. I know they’re real.  I wish I could scrub my memory of this, because this level of conspiracy-theorist-rambling is way more attention than this boring cereal deserves.  

Dan Cerealously, if you are reading this and want these, just to prove they are real, I will mail you some.  But you don’t want these.  You’ve known for months you don’t want these.  

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 7

Support | Carrying

Ao3

Warnings: Gunshot wounds, blood, canon typical violence

-o-o-o-o-

Here was the thing about fighting crime in Gotham. Well, or just fighting crime in general. Sometimes things just went wrong and there was nothing you could do about it. You could be the most powerful superhuman in the world, or the most skilled martial artist, or have a reputation to the moon and had the documentation to prove that reputation wasn't complete bull. 

No matter who you were, sometimes you got hurt from a dumb thing. A thing you could have avoided. A thing that you most certainly will beat yourself up over in the coming weeks. 

Sometimes a stray bullet just happened to ricochet juuuuust right off the concrete walls and into the back of your hip while you were fighting crime in the streets. 

When Jason felt the intense pain of the aforementioned stray bullet entering his flesh, it took every ounce of will power he had to not cry out or fall down. 

"Hood!" 

He heard Nightwing call his name. The idiot practically begged for tonight's brotherly bonding session and Jason wanted nothing more than to look up and glare at him. Saying: "let's patrol together, Jason! It will be fun , Jason!"

He didn't for a number of reasons. Mostly because he couldn't say his real name out loud; though he supposed he could say 'Hood'?. Anyway, it was also kinda because he had his helmet on and it was sorta hard to glare through it unless he had the helmet literally sculpted into a glare. Partly because the pain was muting even though the bullet couldn't have gone that deep. It should have lost power while bouncing off the stone bricks, and the material of his jacket and under armor should have stopped it a little . All the way if it hit right. But it didn't hit right. Somehow, it came at him in that very specific angle that Kevlar didn't like. 

He had a bullet in his hip. He could feel warm blood pouring out of a hole in his body, trickling down the back of his legs and ever so slowly becoming painfully stabbing. 

So while Jason wanted to joke, look up at his dumb older brother and tease that this is why they don't do things together, it was all he could do maneuver his arms so he didn't faceplant when his hip eventually gave out. 

And oh yeah. The pain was definitely settling in now. It forced his eyes to widen and tear up, his hands to clench, his arms to twitch as his body desperately tried to figure out what to do without his consent. He wanted to grab at the wound, which was good right? Stop the blood flow? But it was at an awkward position behind him, and he was sure there were still thugs in the alleyway; he kinda really didn't want to be seen clutching his ass in front of them all. 

So he sorta just... laid there pathetically, hating how a simple patrol turned out like this; with Jason laying in a growing puddle of his own blood.

This was Dick's fault. Jason was sure. When he got the medical treatment he needed, he was definitely going to hold this above Goldie's head for the rest of time and eternity. 

Although, quicker than what he expected, Dick was by his side with eyes comically wide behind his mask, hands hovering over Jason like he wasn't sure what to touch or where to apply pressure. Jason had just the presence of mind to remember that he was hit by a ricochet bullet, shot in the back by a projectile that should have, by all means, missed. Dick wouldn't have seen him get shot, just the aftermath. The poor idiot was babbling like a soaking wet domesticated house cat, probably thinking he was shot somewhere much more important than his rear end. Like his heart or something. 

"Hip-" Jason gasped, and then groaned when hands immediately landed at the area just to the side of the small of his back. It hurt like a bitch, that was for sure, but it really couldn't have gotten that deep. It probably just entered him at an angle instead of straight on. More torn flesh that way. And Jason knew from experience that the pain of a wound didn’t necessarily correlate with how deep the said wound ran. It could be how long it was. How gaping. How beaten and bruised. 

It seemed silly to drop from a wound such as this. He could hear Dick muttering about how it didn't look horrible and that Jason probably didn't need a hospital and most likely didn't get hit in the bone, but it still hurt. A lot. 

He sucked in a deep, lungful of air, then forced his head to turn towards where they had been previously fighting a group of thugs who thought they could mug some beanpole old man. Confusion washed over him slowly. The thugs… they were so determined to fight Nightwing and Red Hood when they showed up. One of them was even bragging about having fought one of the bats before. Which Jason doubted. They probably ran away from whatever illegal activity they were doing before the bats actually arrived, but put that little white lie on their criminal resume to get hired for big gigs more easily. If they'd fought a bat before, they wouldn't be so excited to fight them again. 

Regardless, the guy was excited and trigger happy, even after the man they were trying to mug managed to escape. You could probably guess who managed to get a one-in-a-million shot on Jason without having to be told.

That all added up to why Jason was confused at this moment, laying on the ground, hands on his back that pressed down with way more force than Jason thought necessary. The alley was empty. Not a thug in sight. No unconscious bodies with hands restrained and a note taped to their foreheads for the cops. Nada. Goose Egg.

"Wh- where-?" Jason tried, but talking made everything hurt . 

Thankfully though, Dick knew what he was trying to ask. "They ran off after they realized they shot you. Got cold feet."

Jason opened his mouth, but ground it shut as Dick increased the pressure with one hand and removed the other to probably get some bandages going. Jason just breathed for a moment. Catch his breath. Bring the focus of his attention away from the hole in his back to return to the matter at hand. 

When Dick pressed a thick sheet of cotton over the wound, Jason knew the next few minutes would be agonizing; as Jason would soon be sat up to allow bandages to be freely wrapped around his hips and stomach. He opened his mouth before Dick could begin the process and forced the words out.

"You let them run?"

"Of course," Dick grumbled, and Jason wasn't sure if he said it as a “ yes Jason, because I love you I let the enemies go so I could take care of you !” or a “ of course you'd ask this, geeze, so annoying…” kind of way.

Jason was offended either way. 

When Dick forced him up so he's sitting and leaning heavily against the older hero, he was positive he saw stars. Bright, flashing starts shining through the constant murk that was Gotham's sky. Or maybe he was just in intense pain. 

Oh well. 

Dick wrapped the wound—working with way more clockwork and practice than what any normal person without a medical degree should be able to do—then, at the count of three he lifted Jason by grabbing the arm of Jason's good side and wrapping it around his shoulders. Jason could barely contain a yelp as he was lifted to his feet. His hip screamed at him, trying to get him to fall back down and just lay there. Probably just die there. He had to force every ounce of his willpower into moving his good leg, dragging his bad one behind him, as Dick struggled to carry his weight out of the alleyway. 

Not so happy to be small and quick now, huh Grayson? Rethinking those offers Jason had made months ago to teach you how to go make more muscle and maybe even get a little taller? Pathetic. Can't even drag Jason's injured ass out of an alleyway without breaking a sweat on your forehead. 

"M'not that heavy," Jason grumbled anyways though when Dick began to release small, panting puffs of air.

"You're heavier than B," Dick wheezed, "so shut the fuck up."

Jason lifted an eyebrow under his helmet. He was sure Dick could sense his amusement, if the twitch of his lips were anything to go by. "How do you know how heavy B is?" 

"Oh you know," Dick said in a mock-sigh, his voice almost singsong, "I'm always saving everyone's asses. Drag each of you to a med bay at least once a month. Did you know Orphan is heavier than Red but not as heavy as Spoiler?"

"Do you want Orphan and Eggplant to kill you?"

Dick let out a bubbling laugh, which made Jason wonder if Tim, Cass, then Steph was really the order of that scale. Jason wouldn’t linger on it for long though, because they've finally made it to where they've parked their bikes. Jason immediately began to plan on how he was going to ride to his nearest house without passing out in Gotham late-night traffic. The dead-hours of night always brought out the best and worst in Gotham drivers. He'd have to manage. He did it before. 

However, all of his plans suddenly flew out the window as Dick disregarded his own blue and black bike and proceeded to try and force Jason into the passenger seat of his own bike. 

"I can-"

"I'll cuff you if I have to Hood," Dick snapped, though there was mirth and amusement in his tone. "I'm driving you."

"You're not ," Jason grunted though clenched teeth as he inevitably lost the battle with Dick and was forced into the passenger space. "You're gonna take me to the manor if I let you drive."

"Yeah?"

" No ."

Dick sighed then stepped away from the bike, planting hands on his hips as he gave that disappointed older brother pout he'd been working on and improving for the past decade. It worked on most everyone except Jason and maybe Cass. Jason was immune to the Older Brother Pout™. Still didn't stop Dick from giving it. 

"Little Wing, you have a bullet in your back."

"Woah, thanks for telling me, I didn't know!" 

Now Dick looked a little annoyed. Good. "Jay-"

"No," Jason snapped, desperately wanting to stand up and cuss him out like he deserved. "We'll go to my safehouse."

"What one?" Dick argued and angrily Jason threw his hands in the air on instinct. 

The action sent bolts into his back, making his brain short circuit as his body tried to figure out if it wanted to bend forward or back. In the end, it didn't matter, because like the absolute bastard he was, Dick used his pain as a distraction to jump onto the sitting space in front of him. He turned on the engine and Jason felt himself go boneless, the pain of the wound on his back ate up his energy more violently than a crocodile. His metal helmet slammed against Dick's back, and when he felt the bike jolt with motion, he angrily, carefully, and reluctantly wrapped his arms around Dick's waist. 

"'ny of them," Jason mumbled, blinking blurry shapes from the corners of his eyes. "Ju's don' take me t'the manor…" 

"Alright," Dick chimed, revving the engine. He sounded too happy about something, but Jason was too focused on holding on and ignoring the pounding hole in his back to question it too much. 

Dick drove with more caution than what he normally did. Jason had ridden with Dick on bikes and in cars before, and the guy is borderline psychotic while driving. Jason supposed it was because his adrenaline junky tendencies mixed with the famous Blüdhaven road rage to create a man to be feared on any sane roads. Or as same as Gotham got. Jason swore Dick was always on the horn, always looking for that split second window to speed up and get to where he wanted as fast as possible. He wasn't a dangerous driver, just one that wasn't one to trifle with when in the zone of driving. Yet now, while the speed was fast and the spaces between cars was utilized to get the cycle through quicker, there were hardly any other risks involved. No running lights, no cutting it close between cars, no sharp and split second turns. Everything was calculated and smooth, and Jason made a mental note to mention it to him later. 

So you do know how to drive?

With the hum of the engine and the warm body in front of him, it became rather difficult to keep his eyes open. A weary cloud had slowly begun to settle around him, probably not because of any blood-loss but because of falling levels of adrenalin and perhaps mild shock. He squeezed his arms tight around Dick's chest—he silently promised that if Dick mentioned this as a hug he would lose it—and let his eyes fall shut. He would just rest them… for a little while. He had a long night ahead of him. One of digging out a bullet and stitching the wound shut. He should guilt trip Dick into going out to buy ice cream or takeout chinese later.

And thankfully, focusing on the sounds around him by having his eyes closed helped him ignore the pain. Well, not all of it. It was there. Just… muted. 

He could relax to this. 

It was a pity all the peace and relaxation left the moment the bike suddenly dipped in altitude, the sounds of the city becoming the seemingly endless echoes of the bike itself. Jason snapped open his eyes, recognizing the dark tunnel around him. A growl escaped his throat. 

"Dick," he hissed. Or well, grumbled. His voice was slurred and definitely sounded as tired as he felt. 

"Yup?" Dick replied like he was innocent. Jason will kill him. 

"Safe. House."

"Yup." He popped the "p" on that one. Alright. Jason will definitely kill him. 

"This isn't my safe house," he growled, putting as much force as he could into each syllable. " No manor."

"Kay," Dick hummed, "but I don't know where any of your safehouses are. So I thought, Jason doesn't want the manor, so where's the next best place?"

"The manor includes the cave, Dickhead!"

"Y'know, everytime you insult me with my own name it just gets more and more sad."

Jason wanted to scream. "I'll show you what's sa-"

The tunnel opened up, revealing one of the last places Jason was in the mood to be at. The Batcave was just as large, impressive, and condescending as ever. Dick came to a stop near where the rest of the vehicles in the cave were parked, killed the engine, then stuffed the keys into his gauntlets so Jason couldn't snatch them and drive away in a pain filled haze and probably crash in the straight and narrow tunnel used to get here. Dick looked up from the bike, smiled, and waved. 

Jason wanted to shoot something. With rubber bullets, don't worry, but he still wanted to shoot something. 

Of course Batman and Robin couldn't be out in the city right now. Of course they were right here, a good distance away near the batcomputer, both standing up to curiously regard their guests. 

"Don't tell the truth of how it happened," Jason said quickly.

Dick scoffed and dropped his hand, using the other to tear off the edge of his mask. "I don't even really understand what happened-"

Jason glared. "Just make me sound cool, alright? I have a reputation. Can't have them know I was taken out by street level thugs."

"Don't worry, Jay," Dick assured, jumping off the bike and grabbing Jason's arm again, grunting under the weight to eventually help Jason to his feet. "I'll make sure your ego isn't bruised."

"Ya better."

"Richard," came the voice of the most tater tot boy to ever tater tot. "… Jason." There was only one kid that could say someone's name like it was a poison that tasted good. Jason looked up from where he'd been focusing on his feet to see the kid had ran up to get ahead of the big man.

He grinned wickedly, because he loved watching the kid be a little unnerved by him. Not in a rude way. Just in a " hell yeah, little man, I'm your second eldest brother and you gotta respect me " kinda way. 

"Hey, short stack," Jason waved half-heartedly as Dick began to guide him over to the medbay. Alfred, who was standing by the computer, looked Jason up and down, sighed, then walked over to the medbay as well. "How's the cow? Ready for the grill yet?"

"Batcow is fine," Damian replied civilly. Jason wondered why that was. Normally the kid was ready to throw down at the slightest tiny itty bitty inkling of a suggestion of cooking any of his pets. Jason wasn't even subtle about it this time. And Damian also had issues with comments of his perfectly normal for a thirteen year-old shortness. Jason honestly expected reddening, bloating cheeks and narrowed eyes. Instead, Damian looked him up and down, his green eyes calculative and his posture looking oddly like he was trying to convince himself to say something more.

Luckily, or unluckily in many cases, Bruce came up before this odd little exchange could be explored more. 

"What happened?" He demanded in that worried-but-constipated-about-it way of his that he was always so good at.

Jason saw Dick open his mouth and he prepared himself for the coming lecture. Always be ready for an attack, Jason. Be prepared for anything. Even if the enemy is low level street muggers who barely even know how to hold a gun, Jason. Ugh. 

"I shot Jason."

Aaaand Jason now remembered that Dick was literally the worst liar in the whole entire goddamn world. Alright. Jason could work with this. 

"Yup. Dick shot me," Jason agreed, probably enjoying Bruce's frown way too much. Bruce walked around towards their backs and Jason fought a tense as a hand barely even brushed across the bandage around his lower abdomen. 

"Richard wouldn't shoot anyone, even someone as annoying as you," Damian argued, looking genuinely outraged and confused. 

"I'm sorry, Dami," Dick continued, sighing in mock apology as he continued to drag Jason closer to the medbay. "I finally snapped."

"No you didn't!" 

"I did, and I'll do it again!"

Jason tuned out the coming shouting match between a literal child and Damian. That would keep them occupied. He side-eyed over to where Bruce was walking besides them, looking torn between walking ahead to the bay or helping Dick carry Jason. It was times like these that Jason found himself more grateful than ever for his helmet, it allowed him to watch as Bruce has a whole mini crisis, trying to decide what to do with his hands, without Bruce actually seeing him paying attention to that stuff. 

"B," Jason tried, and somehow his voice carried over regardless of Damian's shouting about how Dick wasn't secretly a murderous psychopath who had been repressing his violent urges up until this point. Dick really was going to stick with that story huh?

Bruce's eyes flickered up towards Jason, looking immediately guarded. Jason knew it was a front. So he reached up with his free hand and took off his helmet. He proceeded to look Bruce directly in the eyes. 

He tried a smile, even though he really didn't want to be here in the cave right now. He'd rather be at home, watching replays of Harry Potter and stuffing his face with chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. But, he supposed, if he was going to be forced to be here via one stubborn prick of a brother, pun intended, then he was going to do his best to be as civil as Damian was a moment ago. 

He had a reputation to keep up, after all. Jason didn't get gunned down by street muggers, and he didn't lower himself below the only kid in the cave. 

"Why don'cha help out, yeah?" Jason asked, "Dick is tiny and slow and my back hurts."

Dick squawked. "I take offence to that! I might just shoot you again, Hood!" 

"Stop it Richard! You don't shoot people!"

"I can't help it, little D! The urge to shoot people is stronk ."

Damian groaned at the horrible attempt at gen z slang while Bruce slowly and almost... timidly grabbed Jason's other arm and immediately sped up the process of getting him towards the ever awaiting Alfred and the cot behind him. 

Jason tried to not focus too hard on that. Of how far they have fallen from when Jason was still young. Robin. Full of magic. 

He tried not to think about how far they have come from when Jason was stuffing heads in duffle bags. 

He just allowed Bruce to take him to the cot and gently set him down, shooing Dick and Damian away as Alfred approached with the tools he needed. 

Dick was correct in saying that the bullet didn't go in far, and Jason was right that it went in weirdly and that was why it was so painful. After an excruciating makeshift surgery and a stitching session, Jason reluctantly allowed himself to be lowered into the cot. He was all tuckered out. He was so tired from the entire night that he couldn't keep his eyes open, even though Bruce was in the same room and Jason still didn't feel comfortable being vulnerable around him. 

He might have imagined it, but when he was a sliver away from falling fully into a deep sleep, he might have felt something warm and calloused grab his hand and stroke the joint of Jason's thumb. The hands holding his own were easy to recognize. Bruce had unique hands. He might have felt weirded out by that, that Bruce was holding his hands as he fell asleep, or maybe annoyed. But like he said, he was too exhausted to really… care. 

Too tired to know if it was real. 

"I'm glad you're safe, Jay-lad," Bruce whispered. Or maybe he didn't. 

Jason was too far gone by then. 

[donnerpartyofone]

working for a giant corporation taught me some really crazy things about myself and others. for instance, i think that if you grow up as like a responsible little goody two shoes like myself, you develop this delusion that people in high-powered jobs are mature and intelligent in proportion to how far up the ladder they are, because how else could they possibly have become the boss of everybody? in reality there is absolutely no such correlation between mental and social ability, and what you get to do, and actually i think that most people in a position of authority get there by being so thin-skinned and intolerable when they’re not satisfied that people just give them stuff to get them to shut up. but i digress. what i’m really thinking about is the shocking realization that older, more experienced, more “qualified” people (or just as bad, people who appear to be on exactly the same level as you) don’t read. i mean, they just will never read an entire email. i used to write these emails that included every single piece of information the person might need to know about whatever the subject was; not that they were pages long, but they’d introduce the topic, ask my main 2-3 questions, and include whatever the person might need to know in order to answer me, if there was anything extra that they shouldn’t know already. then i started to realize that no matter what i did to try to finish the conversation in as few emails as possible, the person would like, read the first line, respond only to that in a confusing incomplete way, and then later get mad because i “never told them” all the stuff i explained in that first message. so, i had to learn to start dumbing down everything i wrote until it was like something i would send to a child, in the simplest terms possible and never with more than one piece of information OR one question at a time. i found it pretty disturbing to have to do this, just like i found it disturbing that in this day and age you really HAVE to use stupid little smiley face emoji in a professional environment or else no one is capable of figuring out if you’re like furiously screaming at them or not. even though some people are legitimately so busy and overwhelmed that you have to spoonfeed them information for both your sakes, these experiences can go a long way toward making you feel like everyone you work for is a fucking idiot and they shouldn’t be allowed to push you around and condescend to you if they can’t even fucking read as well as you apparently do.

anyway this isn’t exactly the same thing AT ALL but last week i sent a tattoo proposal to this person who is a really successful, sophisticated artist. it’s not my first time at the rodeo, or even at that specific shop, so i bulleted the stuff that has to go into every proposal, and added whatever extra description i thought was necessary. admittedly there was a bunch of that, because what i wanted them to do was a little complex, like i want an existing image but in a different style, and i wanted to be as clear as possible about that. the other unusual thing i did was to send a link to my reference images (all in one place after the jump), instead of attaching them--part of what i sent was a video showing the available space on my arm (i needed to turn my arm over to show the whole spot), and i couldn’t email it, so this seemed like an ok solution. this is starting to sound like a lot but it really wasn’t, it was like, read a half-page email with clear bullet points and then follow a link. about a week passed (that part is normal), and then i noticed that they sent me a DM over instagram, from a blank account i guess they keep for this purpose. that was weird since we’d never interacted over there, and also since they didn’t respond to my email; why would this be easier? so then i look, and there’s no message, they just forwarded me their booking faq--which outlines exactly what i did. i don’t know what they think i didn’t send already--i’m guessing they didn’t like or didn’t notice the photo link but i can’t be sure because they didn’t say anything--but it was all in my email. suddenly i found myself back in that office mentality. do i

a) resend everything in a different format, to try to figure out what email style works best for them? understanding that it’s always possible they won’t get it the second time either, for some reason? or b) reply that i already DID read the faq and i sent them exactly what it asked for, so they should just look at my email again, in a tone that magically doesn’t make me sound mad or rude?

OR, let’s say i don’t want to do this with them anymore because i’m worried about letting someone modify my body when we’re already struggling to communicate. like to be honest it bothered me that they didn’t type anything, even like “your message is missing stuff, read the faq and try again”, and/or “i’m sending my faq over instagram so check your DMs.” also they sent the faq as photos over DM so they expire; i thought to take screenshots, but if i hadn’t, i’d be fucked. so, i think now i have to figure out how to terminate this. do i

1) reply to the DMs, or to my email which i guess they got even though they switched channels on me, and make a formal declaration that i’m not going to pursue this with them so there’s no further confusion, or 2) just ghost, because who really cares, and they’re probably really busy anyway, which would explain everything that happened/didn’t happen.

i wish i didn’t agonize over stuff like this but that’s just my deal. this is slightly like when i realized that now some professionals only write in this infantile internet speak, which has the dual effect of making me feel strangely uncool even if they’re older and dorkier than me, and also like i’m just not sure if they’re actually reading and understanding what i tell them because their responses are in like baby talk. i think it’s becoming obvious that the answer is 2 just forget all about this, i already thought of someone else for this project anyway and it’s too anxious-making for me to figure out someone’s love language or whatever just so i can tailor all my messages to them. probably a lot of people would just drop it without even worrying about it. i just wish i gave less of a shit about things in general.

[fanfics4all]

School Bully

Request: Yes / No  58 with Barry Allen please? Fem!reader  The Barry Allen can be angst and fluff as well Anon

Requests are open <3 Have a nice day/night

Barry Allen x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2366

Warnings: Getting hurt, I think that’s it 

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your Nickname 

Prompt(s): “You don’t have to say anything.”

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Team Barry never can catch a break. New meta-humans all the time and since the Flash was still new to the city many people weren’t taking him seriously. It was late at night, Cisco, Caitlin,Dr. Wells and I were all working at the labs. 

“Check your math. Your dispersal models don’t correlate.” Caitlin said as her and Cisco came up the elevator.

“Uh, they do if you factor in the seasonal fluctuations in reproduction cycles.” Cisco said. 

“What exactly are we debating?” Dr. Wells asked. 

“The average number of bugs Barry swallows in a day of running.” Cisco answered as we entered the room. 

“Sorry, what?” I asked, turning to face them. 

“I look forward to seeing you accept your Nobel.” Dr. Wells said with a sarcastic smile. 

“Barry?” Cisco asked worriedly. Barry was laying on the floor and we all rushed over to him. 

“Barry? Are you okay?” I asked, getting to him first and kneeling next to him. I gently touched him and he groaned in pain. 

“Help me get him up.” Caitlin said and we lifted him up. We laid him on a bad that Caitlin had brought out and she started checking him over. 

“Cisco, Y/N, come, let’s give Miss. Snow some space to work.” Dr. Wells said and we followed him out of the room. We all tried to distract ourselves with work, but I couldn’t.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” I asked and Cisco looked up at me with a smirk. 

“He’ll be fine Y/N/N, he has speed healing after all.”  He said and I bit my lip. 

“I know, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll be okay.” I said and he shook his head with a smile. 

“You really should just tell him how you feel already.” He said and I rolled my eyes. 

“Please, we all know he’s in love with Iris, he wouldn’t even give me a thought.” I said looking back down at my tablet. 

“You never know until you try.” He said. 

“Guys, you can come back in now!” Caitlin said and we all walked back in to see her finishing up. 

“13 fractures.” She said and I started at Barry in shock. 

“That’s a new record, and that’s just in your hand.” She said to him. 

“Just? What else is wrong?” I asked. 

“He also has a concussion, three cracked ribs, and a bruised spleen.” She answered and my eyes widened. 

“Even with his powers, he’ll need a few hours to heal.” She added and Barry nodded. 

“What exactly did you hit?” Dr. Wells asked. 

“A man. A big, bad man.” Barry answered and I furrowed my brow. 

“His skin changed when I hit him. Like, it turned to metal.” He said and my eyes widened again.  

“Interesting. A man of steel.” Wells said. 

“So you went after a meta-human alone?” Cisco asked, walking up to us. 

“Why didn’t you call us, Barry?” I asked. 

“I didn’t know what he was. Besides, I was off-duty.” He answered, sitting up. 

“Hmm?” Caitlin hummed. 

“You’re lucky he didn’t knock out your teeth. Those puppies don’t grow back.” Cisco said and I sent him a glare.

“The strange thing is I feel like I knew him.” Barry said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.  

“He said something that was familiar, but he’s gonna hurt someone if we don’t stop him. So how do I fight a guy that’s made of steel?” Barry asked. 

“We will find a way. Tonight, you heal.” Wells said. 

“Yeah.” He said and everyone went to research. 

Barry was fully healed in the morning and went to work like normal. We were all at the lab trying to figure out what we could do about this new meta-human. It was about noon when Barry returned to the lab. 

“Hey Barry, get anything from work?” I asked. 

“Actually yeah, I know who our new meta-human is.” He answered. 

“Really? Who?” I asked. 

“He’s the guy that bullied me in school.” He answered and I thought back. 

“Wait, do you mean Tony?” I asked, shocked and everyone looked at us. 

“That’s the one.” He answered with a sigh. 

“So, your childhood nemesis is now an unstoppable meta-human. That is seriously messed up.” Cisco said. 

“I had a childhood nemesis. Lexi La Roche. She used to put gum in my hair.” Caitlin said. 

“Jake Puckett. If I didn’t let him copy my homework he’d give me a swirly.” Cisco said. 

“Now’s not the time guys.” I said. 

“Y/N’s right, now that we’ve established that we’re all uber-nerds, what are we gonna do about Tony?” Barry asked. 

“Glad you asked.” Cisco said and started moving around the room. 

“We’re gonna train you, man.” He said walking into the other room and we followed.

“Karate Kid style. Behold!” He said and moved a screen to reveal a robot he apparently made. 

“I call him Girder.” Cisco said proudly. 

“For the record, not my idea.” Caitlin said. 

“Mine either.” I added. 

“Fighting is physics. It’s not about strength. It’s not about size. It’s about energy and power. Channel your speed the right way and you can totally take this bad boy down. Now obviously your Girder is a moving target.” He said and picked up a controller. 

“So…” He said and started making the robot move. Barry looked over at Caitlin and me, we smiled nervously. 

“I have ice and bandages standing by.” Caitlin said. Barry shook his head and then started trying, but got hit and fell to the ground groaning in pain.

“I’m pretty sure I just dislocated my shoulder.” He said and I sighed. 

“Come on Bar, let’s get it back in place.” I said helping him up. I sat him on a nearby table and got ready to put it back in place. 

“This is gonna hurt like a bitch, Bar.” I said and he hissed in pain. Before I could do it, his phone rang. He looked at it and groaned. 

“Oh speaking of pain. Eddie, hey.” He answered and I knew why he said that now. Iris’s soon to be husband… 

“Great, I’ll see you in a sec.” He said and hung up. 

“Okay, let’s do this.” He said and laid back down. 

“So I’m curious about something, when you said you were off-duty last night, were you visiting Iris again, you know, in disguise?” I asked.

“Because I think it’s reckless and a little creepy.” I said. 

“No.” He said clearly lying. I pushed his shoulder back in and he screamed in pain. 

“That’s what you get for lying.” I smirked and he shook his head at me. 

“I gotta go.” He said and I nodded. 

“I’ll be here trying to figure out how to deal with Tony.” I said and he ran off. We’ve been working for three hours now and I decided I needed a coffee break. 

“Hey guys, I’m gonna go to Jitters and get some coffee, anyone want anything?” I asked. 

“No, I’m good, thanks.” Caitlin said and I smiled. 

“Me too!” Cisco said and I nodded. 

“Okay, well, I’ll be back!” I called and left. I got to Jitters and ordered my coffee. I was waiting at the counter and my friend was working today. 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you, where’s your shadow?” She asked and I looked at her confused. 

“What shadow?” I asked. 

“Barry, duh, he hasn’t been in all week.” She said and I sighed.

“He’s been busy.” I said and she looked at me sadly. 

“With Iris?” She asked. 

“Yes and no.” I answered. 

“Too bad, you two could make such a cute couple.” She said and handed me my coffee. 

“Y/N?” Someone called my name and I looked over to see Tony… 

“Long time no see.” He said with a smile and I stared at him shocked. 

“I gotta say Y/N, you look amazing.” He said walking closer to me. 

“Thanks, Tony.” I said shaking my head. I needed to pretend I didn’t know what he was. 

“You too.” I lied. 

“Oh yeah, I keep in shape. Got a gym at my place.” He said looking at his arms for a second. 

“Been living out in Keystone on the west side, and you should, uh… you should stop by sometime.” He said.

“Right, well I should actually be going now.” I said and tried to walk by him. 

“Actually, I came by here to see you.” He said, stopping me. 

“How did you know I was here?” I asked. 

“I saw you come in and I heard you’re a fan of The Streak. Why do you care about this guy?” He asked. 

“He’s a hero.” I answered. 

“Yeah? Well I say he’s a coward, and I just happen to know that he took a beating last night and ran off like a little girl. You should think about that.” He said and I sighed. 

“Do you have any idea who leather boy is?” He asked, getting closer to me. 

“No, and don’t you think you’d have a better chance of finding out by asking Iris these questions?” I asked and he chuckled. 

“Iris just writes about him. But you work at S.T.A.R Labs, seems like you would know before her.” He said and I looked at him confused. 

“Why? Do you think we track every meta in the city? No, we don’t.” I said. 

“Now, if you excuse me I have to get back to work.” I said. 

“What time are you off? I could buy you a drink, maybe dinner.” He asked, stopping me again. 

“Thanks, Tony, but no thanks.” I said. 

“Too bad, no isn’t an option.” He said and grabbed my arm. He pulled me out of the store and grabbed my keys out of my bag. He shoved me into my car and got in the driver’s seat. He started driving and I couldn’t get to my phone. I was trapped with this dickhead. 

It was starting to get dark and by the time he stopped the car, the city was covered in darkness. He dragged me out and pulled me into our old school. 

“Remember this place, Y/N?” He said and shoved me in front of him. 

“So what’s the plan here, Tony? You finally gonna go for that G.E.D.?” I asked and he shoved me to walk. 

“You want a plan? How’s this?” He asked and pulled me to him. 

“You love The Streak so much? Well now, you’re gonna love me.” He said. 

“You just abducted me, Tony. Why the hell would I ever do that?” I asked and he smirked. 

“Because The Streak is dead.” He said and I looked at him confused. 

“What are you talking about?” I asked. 

“Squashed like a little bug by me. Just before I took you.” He said and my eyes widened. 

“So if you don’t want the same thing to happen to you, you’re gonna love me and tell Iris to tell the whole world that there’s a new big man on campus. And I’m just getting started.”  He shouted, then leaned against the lockers. 

“Why me?” I asked. 

“Because, I always wanted you in school. But you were always in love with that pipsqueak Barry.” He said grabbing me and pulling me towards him. 

“Now, kiss me.” He said and planted his lips on mine. I kissed back, only to distract him and make him loosen his grip on me. I moved my arm and quickly hit the fire alarm. I pulled away and tried to run, but he grabbed me, hard. 

“You try anything like that again and I’m gonna leave more than a bruise!” He shouted and pulled me with him. He ripped the fire alarm off the wall and he pulled me along. 

“Tony, just turn yourself in before things get worse, please. It’s not too late.” I begged and he laughed. 

“Yeah, it is.” He said and pushed me in front of him. 

“Cops are already looking for me, so get ready to witness the showdown of a lifetime, ‘cause I’m not letting you go without a fight.” He said and then a gust of wind showed up. 

“Good, ‘cause you just found one.” Barry said, his voice changed and I smiled. Tony grabbed me and turned towards him. 

“You just won’t stay dead. Come to save your little fan girl?” He asked and I saw Barry’s fists clenched. 

“This is between us. Let her go.” Barry said and Tony smirked. He looked at me and kissed my cheek. 

“Sorry babe.” He said and threw me into the lockers with such a force. 

“Y/N!” Was the last thing I heard before I blacked out. 

I woke up in one of the S.T.A.R Labs bed, with the worst headache ever. I groaned and looked over to see Barry sitting next to me. I sat up and he looked at me with wide eyes. 

“You’re okay!” He said and engulfed me in a huge. 

“Besides a horrible headache, yeah.” I laughed. 

“I’m sorry, you were in that situation because of me.” He said and I hushed him. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” I said and he shook his head. 

“It’s my fault you got hurt.” He said and started crying. I looked at him shocked and pulled him into a hug. 

“Hey, it’s okay Bar. I’m gonna be fine.” I said and rubbed his back. 

“I love you Y/N, I don’t want you in danger, ever.” He said, pulling back and my eyes widened. 

“W-What?” I asked and he chuckled. 

“I love you Y/N.” He said and gently caressed my cheek. 

“I thought you love Iris…” I said. 

“I did, but I love her as a sister, but you, you I love more than a friend.” He said and I bit my lip. He leaned down and captured my lip in the perfect kiss. He pulled away and smiled at me. 

“Maybe when you’re better, I could take you on a date?” He asked and I giggled. 

“I’d love that Bar.” I said and pulled him back for another kiss. 

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