#thought my body image issues would get better in art school. they did not

[emberglowfox]

warning body image talk /

sometimes when i walk by a mirror i feel like shriveling up and dying. and sometimes when i walk by a mirror i look at myself and think cool i'm doing my part in normalizing transmascs that aren't sharp-jawed and skinny as a twig good for me. neither of which are at all healthy ways of looking at it probably but one is definitely serving me better than the other yknow

[burins]

eisners 2024 roundup pt 1!

because I collect for graphic novels at the library I technically get to vote in the Eisners. which means that every May I read an ungodly number of comics because try as I'd like to keep up with stuff throughout the year it is impossible!

there was a lot of really good fun stuff I got to read, and also some stuff that made me absolutely furious. please enjoy the fruits of my labor and my very very long spreadsheet.

Best Continuing Series: birds of prey 1-6 (dc, kelly thompson and leonardo basto romero)

if you read my yuri zine piece you might remember that at the end of it I mentioned I hadn't read this yet because I knew that Babs was going to be Batgirl in it. Babs is Batgirl in it, but the series is still really really good. it is exactly what I want out of birds of prey – a really cohesive, fun team comic. also dinah really shines in this! I love the old school take on the art and the almost screen tone edges of the coloring, it gives it a really retro feel. also appreciate the lack, at least so far, of tons of cheesecake. I read the entirety of old birds of prey and I'm done with crotch shots thank youuuu (this is not counting issue 5 which takes a really jarring completely different artistic bent where everyone is drawn like it's 2003 and they're anime waifus. you cannot skip issue 5 for plot reasons but i did grit my teeth through it)

(continued below the cut for saving-your-dash reasons)

honorable mention: shazam 1-6 (dc, mark waid and dan mora)

I have never before cared about a Shazam comic but this was really fun.. it really leans into Billy being a kid with some real big powers and the rapport between him and his foster siblings is delightful. also I'm never going to say no to Dan Mora art

i won't get into my feelings about taylor's nightwing run AGAIN here but i resent that i had to read more of it for the second year in a row. and i especially resent that the fps nightwing issue got a nomination for best single issue.

Best Limited Series: the cull (image, Kelly Thompson and Mattia De Iulis)

another Kelly thompson! this was a cool and interesting story about a group of kids who, after a tragedy, go out to the beach to film one last short film together and discover an alien world. the plotting is sharp and quick and the character stuff hits well. hyperrealistic art isn't always my jam, but I think it does work in this instance. also quite frankly the rest of this category was pretty weak.

honorable mention: superman lost (dc, chris priest and carlo pagulayan)

I loved the start of Superman lost. I thought it was a really fantastic take on Lois and Clark and the inevitable very real difficulties that their relationship would face. I loved how it let Lois be angry and hurt without condemning her which we SO rarely see in a capes comic. and then it almost completely lost me towards the end. I thought the infidelity / pregnancy subplot was both unnecessary and frustrating (and tbh I don't love the only Black-coded character in the comic, even if she does have pink skin, being a secret villain who's trying to keep Clark trapped with her.) it felt like it fizzled and that's a bummer because boy do the first few issues put clark through the grinder.

Best New Series: Phantom Road (image, Jeff Lemire and Gabriel Hernández Walta)

this category was really hard to pick a favorite because it was full of cool shit. phantom road is a familiar narrative if you've listened to Alice isn't dead, from the Long haul truckers to the truck stops that slide into another world, to the body horror other world monsters. I think Alice isn't dead does it better, but I'm excited to see where phantom road goes. in general I really like Jeff lemire's stuff and I think this will be well done, and hernandez walta's art is tautly paneled and slides between uncanny normal into horror perfectly.

honorable mention: black cloak (image, Kelly Thompson and Meredith McClaren)

I love the worldbuilding in black cloak, but I think it's undercut by art that is too cute for the story. everything in McLaren's art is really rounded and feels kind of like a video game world where I'm collecting pets or something, rather than a fairly gritty fantasy murder mystery. still think this is worth a read though!

honorable mention #2: Local Man (image, Tim Seeley and Tony Fleecs)

I enjoyed this enough to read the second volume even though it didn't actually come out in the nomination period! the plot on this is great and although I think the trope of down on his luck superhero who has to go back in disgrace to his hometown and solve some mysteries is maybe a little overplayed (the overall plot feels a bit too watchmen lite for me) the way it's done here is interesting to read. also the diegetic comics are delightful, particularly the ones with Inga.

next category: kids 9-12. hey did ya'll know there are some really good middle-grade comics coming out right now! there are some really good middle-grade comics coming out right now. this isn't actually my collection area but too bad.

Buzzing (Samuel Sattin and Rye Hickman)

i'm usually not one for Issue Comics, even ones for kids, but this was such a lovely and sweet story about a kid with OCD who finds friends in his D&D group. the art is lovely and i wish baby me had had access to this!

Mexikid (Pedro Martín)

Mexikid is just a delight from start to finish. funny, poignant, great stuff about family and culture and the experience of going on a very long road trip with your horrible siblings who you love very much. Martín switches between laugh out loud humor and deep emotion with incredible facility. This was my picks for the category, but it was tight!

Saving Sunshine (Saadia Faruqi and Shazleen Khan)

really sweet story about a pair of twins who have to pretend to get along in order to get their phones back and end up remembering that they do, in fact, love each other.

on to the teens!

Best Teen (13-17) Danger and Other Unknown Risks (Ryan North and Erica Henderson)

I like this comic so much that I made my partner read it, and they also loved it. delightful romp of an adventure through a post-apocalyptic world in which magic has replaced all electricity. the Chosen One (and her dog) have to bring certain artifacts back to her uncle in order for him to save the world. or do they? the plot turns on this one are extremely good and the cast of characters is a delight

honorable mention: Frontera (Julio Anta and Jacoby Salcedo)

I think it is extremely good for kids, and for everyone, to read stories about the horrors of the us-mexico border. however the ghost subplot on this one really really lost me.. it felt like it took a lot away from the seriousness of the story instead of heightening it or relieving tension.

Best Humor: How to Love: A Guide to Feelings & Relationships for Everyone (Alex Norris)

I went in fully expecting not to like this at all- I assumed it would be really didactic. but it is actually both extremely funny and very sweet. it is essentially a relationship manual from the "oh no" comics person, with all of the silliness and care that that entails.

honorable mention: The Yakuza’s Bias (Teki Yatsuda, trans. Max Greenway)

what if you were a hard boiled high ranking Yakuza, and your boss's daughter got you into kpop? and you became really inspired by your bias and the way that he tirelessly works towards his dreams? delight of a manga (obvious comparison would be the way of the househusband and this is just as fun.)

Best Anthology: Deep Cuts (Kyle Higgins, Joe Clark, Danilo Beyruth, and others)

this SLAPPED. collection of loosely related comics about jazz and the joys of improvisation and the various indignities of the music industry. the art is great from comic to comic, the colors are so tasty, and this made me really emotional about collective artistic endeavor. it's good to have a jam session, and this is the comics equivalent of one.

honorable mention: The Out Side: Trans & Nonbinary Comics (ed. The Kao, Min Christensen, and David Daneman)

i'm generally pretty hit or miss on anthologies (the nature is such that there's gonna be someone in there i really dislike) but this one was actually quite lovely and the art was great. a good variety of stories and takes and a lot of nonbinary artists :)

DIShonorable mention: Comics for Ukraine (ed. Scott Dunbier)

i could have lived my whole life without seeing an Astro City take on the invasion of Ukraine. i wish this had been good! there was one single story in here that didn't make me want to go, head in my hands, hey maybe american comics writers are not like, best positioned to write about what it's like to have your country invaded! i just think. superhero comics are not always the best medium with which to tackle every issue. and that is okay! (the story, "talking to a hill," was also one of the few non-tie-in stories in the anthology and one of the few that actually like. told a ukrainian story rather than a weak allegory.)

Best Nonfiction: Last on His Feet: Jack Johnson and the Battle of the Century (Adrian Matejka and Youssef Daoudi)

woof this is a killer. incredible art incredible writing incredibly nuanced take on a pretty difficult figure, famous Black boxer Jack Johnson, that does not pull any punches in its treatment of either the virulent racism he faced or his treatment of his wife. honestly probably my favorite book of the whole collection.

okay my arm is crapping out so I'll round up the rest (adaptation, international, album, academic, strips, and a few good things I read for best writer and artist) later!

[cammyluvss]

my rating of k-12 movie for the first time watching it

10/10 THIS IS MY FAVORITE MOVIE.

k12 describes the struggles of fitting in with societal norms and growing up not to mention that the movie was literally written by mel herself. ,the music is absolutely amazing. i could legit watch this movie over and over again and never get tired of it. k12 is a movie that is entertaining and thought provoking and its a film that is deserving of recognition because it is one of the best movies ever made, if not the best.

K12 has so many things that make it a rly wonderful and memorable film:3 first and foremost is its use of music. the music in this is not only catchy and memorable, but it also helps to advance the plot and understand the meaning and the struggles of school and growing up as a female in this society. the songs have deeper meanings that reflect the things that crybaby is going through. additionally the music in k12 is also visually stunning. with many of the songs having gorgeous visuals that let me tell you they made my jaw drop.

how she used dance and art in k12 is also important to the films success.. k12 features a shit ton of dance sequences that not only show crybabys incredible dancing but also visually represent her emotions!! The use of art in k12 is honestly eqally impressive, with many of the movies scene incorporating cool visual effects that are sure to take peoples breath away because it surely did to mine. the combination of music dance and art makes k12 a visually stunning film that is surely one of the best movies and definitely my favorite movie. is deserved so much more attention and recognition bro.

K12 also adresed many important and relevant issues that relate to the school experienc e such as gender and social expectations. crybaby struggles with these issues throughout the film and the film ultimately is her finding confidence to be herself and to not conform to the excpectatians. th is message is not only important but it is also sure to resonate with ppl who may have struggled with similar issues!!:)

In conclusion k12 is a film that is not only entertaining, but also has a rly deep meaning and its use of music, dance and art really contributes to this movie. i loved it sm and these songs were a little too relatable lol. i absolutely would watch this over any movie ever. i struggled with having a bad body image growing up and still do. i feel like i weigh much less than i should, and that i need to gain weight or that im too tall and too skinny. i have really been hating how i look recently and putting myself down for it. and truthfully, this movie made me feel atleast a bit better about it. thank you melanie. :3

[exodusin]

Hello! Could you please do a Michael x reader angst to fluff? Maybe where the reader is insecure about themselves and Michael comforts them or smth? P.S keep up the amazing work!! :)

(*ノз`*) BROKEN MIRRORS | M.AFTON.

Thank you for the compliment :D also sorry if this took long :(

art creds @/imsanlee on tiktok

#summary; you don't see the way Michael sees you. It's a masterpiece but his dad’s rude comments, made you think differently.

#note; none of the aftons are dead, no scooping, no bite of 83, no spring lock, this will take place in the early 90s.

#contains; William being a dick, self-esteem issues, negative talk, past parent issues.

#word count; 1648

#fnaf masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Michael proposed to you two weeks ago- you couldn't be any happier and eagerly said: "Yes, I want to marry you!". You were aware of Michael's father being inimical about your guys' relationship. But did that ever stop you from being with Mike?

Nope, but your emotions are saying otherwise.

The Aftons weren't aware of your marriage, so Michael most likely gave them some sort of news that they'll invite them for a dinner night at your guys' house for the news he was going to tell them.

Elizabeth was really happy knowing his older brother was going to devote himself to you, The red-haired girl loved you like family, "She's going to wear a really beautiful dress, I have to be the flower girl!"

Evan was a really shy kid but did have a soft reaction, "I'm happy for you both but Michael can be mean sometimes, just saying." which he earned a flick on the forehead by your fiance.

Mrs. Afton was super excited about knowing this surprise, heck she was supportive ever since Michael confessed you were his girlfriend, "I remember you two being young idiots in love and now adults truly embracing it. I'm so proud of you both!"

Although, William...

He is a brutally honest man and could care less what people think, not only did he make rude comments about you but when Michael was a teen and started dating you, William would say to Michael that he deserves someone better, saw you as a bad influence to his oldest son and youngest children, and...he wasn't surprised Michael chose you as a spouse because he was his least favorite son.

But the comments towards you did hurt you. The feeling of years ago when you lived with your toxic parents was now rising from the following comments—

"Just like any other tramp out there."

"Ever thought you were picked out of pity?"

"Are you're parents even attending to your important day?" That comment stung you.

You're parents. You haven't seen nor talked to them ever since you graduated high school. Always making you feel like the donkey carrying all the problems.

Blaming you for everything, nagging about your bad grades, the friends you've made, your personality, and your image.

But Michael was the only person to ever make your day the brightest, always making sure you were okay, reminding or making sure you were eating well and getting perfect sleep.

Yeah, he was the biggest bully in school but when it came to you, he's an absolute charm.

Always putting you first.

So why did you care so much about what William thinks? It's because he was right. That's what you thought, you were asked out as a joke many times when you were young, you'd be compared to other people from your parents and they wouldn't bother showing up to something you're deeply excited about.

But now you're starting to have second thoughts.

Why would Michael pick you out of all people?

present

You got out a cold shower, moisturized your body with lotion, and washed your face. You put on your underwear and an oversized (favorite color) shirt than a fluffy robe.

'One last check on the mirror...'

It became a habit nowadays, checking the mirror constantly before Michael came back home from work.

"Am I too annoying?"

"Do I talk too much?"

"Am I boring?"

"Does my face look creepy?"

"Am I really like any other?"

"Is my body not ideal?"

The questions running around your head you were paused when you heard that British voice yelled out your name.

"Have you fallen asleep yet? Don't sleep if you haven't eaten."

You made sure your robe was correctly adjusted and put on the usual happy mask to not worry Michael about your personal problems.

"Uhhh...no I'm still awake!" you shouted so he can hear you from downstairs. You heard footsteps get louder and louder meaning he was going to come into the room.

His blue eyes searched for you and there you were sitting on the bed, perhaps waiting for him. Once his eyes landed on you, he felt his eyes melt with adoration.

"Damn it I miss you..." he whispered then smashed his lips to yours, you kissed him back immediately hoping he wouldn't notice your slightly gloomy behavior.

"Did you just take a shower?"

You scoffed, "My hair is wetter than the ocean, what do you think? I just soaked it in a sewage pipe?" you say in a sarcastic playful manner.

He chuckled and pecked your check, "Heh, yea you took a nice shower, you smell nice, as always of course."

He parted away from you and rubbed your soaked hair, "Let me help you dry it and brush it, love." you felt butterflies in your stomach flutter at the nickname.

"Okay just don't brush it too hard..."

—

Your (hair texture) hair was now soft and dry thanks to your fiance.

"Thank you, Mikey."

The brunette smiled, "It's no problem."

You felt strong arms wrap around you and made you turn to face his beautiful pale face, his blue eyes gazing at yours with adoration, and that styled mullet brown hair that was messy.

'Fuck...'

Michael began rubbing your sides lovingly, then stuffing his face onto your fluffy robe which had your scent and warmth that hypnotizes him.

You felt your cheeks warmth at the feeling, for a return of affection you ran your fingers through his messy mullet which made him groan.

Michael's reaction to this was a muffled groan and glided his face down, his hands reached to grab your robe and move it out of the way to get better access to your thighs.

Just as he was about to treat them, a soft hand was placed on his shoulder which halted him. "Is there something wrong, Y/N?"

You faced the other direction to avoid his gaze which made him knit his brows together in confusion, "I-...I don't really feel like-"

"I understand." Those two words ease you but you still felt...gloomy.

"But don't think I didn't notice your behavior these days. Is something bothering you? Is it something I did?" he asked with concern.

You tried to hold back the tears but gulped and said a simple "no."

He tilted his head still looking at you waiting for a better answer, "Did someone say do something to you?"

'Say...'

"Sort of..." you mumbled with hesitation.

"Who? I'll beat the bastard or bitch."

You breathed in and asked, "Michael, can I ask you something?"

He already paid full attention to you "Yes, anything." and waited patiently for your question, your breath became a bit shaky, "Are...Are you sure you want to marry me?"

His pupils shrunk a bit and his brows furrowed, do you no longer want him? He tried to remain calm and respond to your question with composure, "What kind of question is that? I want to marry you. You're the one for me. Why? Do you...not love me?" the last part sounded like hesitation but you responded quickly-

"It's not that. I love you so much fucking much but...what do you see in me?" you asked, his face now becoming soft and sympathetic.

"Love, what made you think that. You're my everything, fuck if you told me to kill thousands of people I'll do it in a heartbeat." the comment seemed laughable but you still felt gloomy, "It's just that...your father doesn't seem to like me much and he's a brutally honest man...am I like any other...is my parents not even going to attend to my wedding day?"

Michael's Adam's apple bobbed in anger, not at you, but his beloved partner being depressed over the bastard of his father. Messing him was one thing, but messing with you is enough to impel him to break his father's teeth.

Instead of Michael responding verbally, he held you as if there is no tomorrow. He kissed your hair and all over your face, plummeting sweet things "No, don't think that way..." "I will never regret proposing to you or meeting you. Your beautiful, your mine. Y/N please. Don't think you're less because of a stupid 'opinion' my bastard of a father says..."

You tried to contain in the hiccups escaping your lips from the soft crying, "He's right though. My parents won't even attend my wedding they always thought less of me and spoke to me as if I was a piece of horse shit."

Michael sighed and yanked you closer to him and began smooching all over your face, "Please...don't say that...don't do it for me...do it for yourself..." he whispers sweetly.

"You don't understand how I see you. No one can see you the way I do," he says as he gently pulls down the sleeve of your shirt to get better access to your shoulder. "Your parents will make the biggest of their lives by not attending to it, your amazing." he then began kissing your shoulder.

You squeaked at the suddenness,

"You're beautiful."

"I love you."

"I'll do anything for you."

He then began nuzzling your neck, "You're mine. Your parents are the real shitfaces here, not you. Meeting you was the greatest thing that happened to me ever in my life. Our bond is unbreakable, no one can break it."

You began to sob and held him closer to you,

"...T-Thank y-you, Michael."

"No, it's the truth. You're the best thing I never knew I needed..."

[dp-marvel94]

I am you (and you are me)

For Invisobang 2021. Art by @bibliophilea

On AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Summary: Set post Kindred Spirits. Something has been different since Danny came back from Vlad's and it started when the older half ghost had the tiny clone overshadow him. The half ghost remembers: His own screams. A pain in his inmost being, in his core. A tug back and forth. Being squeezed. A crash, a collision. And then... the blackness of death.

Danny comes back from the experience changed, with the memories of two lives stuffed in his head and new powers. The fire powers are pretty cool but shrinking, often involuntarily, makes him feel weak and vulnerable. All of it, the powers and memories, terrify him as he learns what they mean. And the thought of telling his loved ones...How can the half ghost hope that Jazz, Sam, and Tucker will understand and accept him now when he himself cannot?

Warnings and Tags: Self harm, Identity confusion, Self-Hatred, Ectoplasm and melting clones related gore, Clone Angst, Nightmares, Memory Issues, Involuntary Shrinking. Panic Attacks, Frostbite is Danny’s Icedad.  Evil Vlad Masters, Bad Parent Vlad Masters, Split Danny, Ghost Catcher, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual acceptance (by Danny and by his loved ones). Sibling Bonding, Friendship, Danny finally gets a hug.

Note: Welcome to my Invisobang fic! This is a semi-sequel to my story "Nothing and Everything." It's set directly after that story, though assuming an alternative ending. It is not necessary to read the older story to understand this one. All you need to know is, it deals with the aftermath of Danny being overshadowed by one of the clone's in Kindred Spirits and the emotional impact of the experience.

All that being said, big thanks to my amazing artist @bibliophilea for the amazing comic, and for beta reading! Thanks to @welcome-tothe-mystery-shack  for your comments and feedback on this story. And finally, a huge thanks to my dearest sister @nervousdragonrebelpie for looking over chapters and listening to me ramble about this story for the past few months. I wouldn’t have been able to finish this without you.

Preview Below:

Chapter 1:

“No! I’m a person. People have names! I have to have a name. I’m not….” A sob tried to break free from his throat.

A knock suddenly rattled the door. “Danny!” Mom called.

Both boy’s heads popped up, focusing on the door. They turned to face each other. “Don’t do this.” The real Danny begged.

“What?” The being asked.

“Every time you get close to the truth, you dream up a distraction.” His eyes widened in desperate panic. “Please don’t-”

Danny’s eyes popped open, a dream swirling in his mind. His heart raced, the sheets sticking to his sweaty body. His brow wrinkled, one shaking hand moving up to rub his aching head. Aching…. He still had that damn headache.

The boy closed his eyes, trying to push the pain away, to coax his heart rate down. He breathed. In and out. In and out. Slowly, so slowly, the throb in his head dimmed, his heart calming. But still, anxiety ate up his insides. 

Blearily, the boy opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Dissatisfied, he groaned and rolled onto his side. He clenched and unclenched his fists, balling up the fabric on his bed. His bed. Yes, this was his bed…. Sleeping in a bed was so nice and comfortable but at the same time... something about it felt…. off.

The boy pinched his eyes closed, trying to make sense of the feeling. His stomach flopped. Something was off. Something was different. After today, after he’d come back from Vlad’s, after the man kidnapped him, after the man clo-

Danny cut off the cursed word, his mind refusing. He buried his face in his pillow. Vlad’s. Something had happened, something had.. had changed at Vlad’s but he couldn’t... quite... remember.

It flashed in images. Being locked in a pod. Electrocution. His own screams. Pain. A pain in his inmost being, in his core…. On the bed, Danny’s core throbbed at the thought… A tug back and forth. Then being squeezed. A crash, a collision. And then... blackness.

He’d passed out. Danny knew that much. And he’d woken up at some point later but everything between that and when he had arrived home was a blur.

Confusion. His head swimming. Danielle.. sister… frowning in worry. The hiss of the pod being released. A sigh of relief. An ectoblast. Twisted metal and glass. Ectoplasm. Ectoplasm on his hands, on the floor. Oh god, oh god. He hadn’t meant to do that. He wasn’t... the others weren’t supposed to…. weren't supposed to...

Vlad... Master... Vlad... glaring in pure hatred. “Get behind me.” His ears ringing with a scream. The older halfa being knocked into his shelves. His knees wobbling. He fell and turned human. (Human... why did the fact that he could do that make him so happy?) But then horror. Vlad was still up and moving.

Then Sam and Tucker crashed through, hitting the older man. Locking Vlad (Master) in a pod. He needs... he needs to find Danielle. He needs to find his baby sister. But she’s gone. She’s gone.

His friends’ worried faces. “Danny, you’re not making any sense.” “Hey! Hey! Stay with us!” He wobbled…. where was Danielle?..... falling forward….. Sam and Tucker caught him.

At some point later, he’d woken up on his bed with worried friends and sister who he couldn’t adequately comfort. His head had been pounding and he couldn’t remember what happened to him… and what he did remember made little sense. Sam had checked his eyes; he didn’t have a concussion or any other injuries. With his head throbbing, he’d dismissed the confusion as being from the stress of the kidnapping and electrocution. His friends believed him, though anxiety was plain on their faces. But after a few minutes, his friends had said their goodbyes, leaving him to get some much needed sleep.

But now, the night after, Danny laid on his bed. His headache was gone, his mind clearer. He should feel better yet... his heart was sinking like a stone in his chest. That dream. That dream. That was familiar. So familiar. Like it had really happened. Like... it meant something. And yet…. Danny yawned, sudden tiredness overtaking him. He closed his eyes.

Maybe this was the ramblings of a sleep deprived brain. Yeah, maybe he was just tired. Maybe he’d wake up in the morning and everything would be okay. The boy pulled his covers more tightly around himself and fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The next morning, after quickly getting ready for school and rushing off, found Danny at his locker. The boy frowned, wracking his brain. What was his locker combination again? He spun the lock, landing on 25. That was the first number, right? Then….56. And finally….12? The lock clicked and he pulled the door open.

Danny sighed. Why was that so hard to remember? He’d had to open his locker just yesterday. He should remember… but why did that feel like a lifetime ago?

“Hey! Danny!” Tucker’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Danny gasped in surprise. In his chest, his core swelled and his body reflexively flickered invisible. A second later, he reappeared, rubbing his chest.

The next thing he knew, Sam was at his side. “What was that?”

“Yeah.” His technogeek friend took a step forward, voice quieting. “Your powers haven’t slipped up like that in months.”

Danny frowned, shaking his head. “I guess... I guess I’m still kinda shook up after….” He wrapped his arms around himself.

Sam’s face softened, seeming to understand. “Do you feel any better?” She asked kindly.

The halfa’s brow wrinkled. “Well, my headache’s gone.”

“You do look better.” The goth commented, her brow furrowing with worry. “You looked rough last night.”

“Yeah, you were really out of it too.” Tucker frowned. “You kept asking where someone called Danielle was? And for your sister?” Clear confusion rang out in his voice and just a hint of teasing…. “We kept telling you Jazz was at home, covering for us.” as if the idea that he was worried about his older sister, when she wasn’t even involved, was funny.

But something in the recollection made Danny shiver. He remembered worrying about Danielle. But…. sister... he hadn’t been talking about Jazz. He’d been asking about another girl, with blue eyes and-

“Then you passed out.” Sam continued. “And we took you home.”

For a too long moment, his friends looked at him questioningly. Finally, Danny bit his lip. “I think I remember that.”

The confirmation seemed to encourage his friends. “That’s good.” Said Tucker.

Danny wasn’t sure it was. But he had no more time to think on it before the bell rang and they were walking to their first class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During lunch period, Danny sat down at their familiar table, the same one as yesterday and every day since the start of freshman year. He placed down his tray and looked over the tables, waiting for Sam and Tucker to join him.

The boy’s brow furrowed. The cafeteria looked the same as every day. The same as yesterday when…. Danielle phasing through the table, a tiny green speck racing passed him…. At the lunch table, Danny’s core pulsed anxiously. Yes, that had happened but at the same time…. Looking back at the two chasing him. Laughing without sound at their fun game.

Danny shivered, feeling cold. He rubbed his chest, nervously.

“Danny?” Someone was waving a hand in front of his face. “Danny? You with us man?”

The halfa blinked and turned, meeting Tucker’s eyes. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“What’s with the spaciness?” Sam said bluntly. She stabbed at her salad. “You were like that all during English too.”

“Was I?” The boy questioned. He shook his head. “Sorry. Just... thinking about stuff.”

His friends gave him worried looks but didn’t question him. Frankly, it was to Danny’s relief. He couldn’t seem to put his thoughts in order. He couldn’t explain this... weird feeling. 

The friends chatted for most of the lunch period, Sam and Tucker dominating the conversation with a debate about the newest Doomed update.

All the while Danny idly rubbed at his chest with one hand. He picked at his cheese fries. Normally they were pretty good, but he wasn’t feeling it today. He shivered again, flinching as his fork fell through his intangible hand.

“Again?” Tucker questioned with a raised brow.

Danny didn’t respond, instead picking up his fork only for his core to flare and the utensil to fall through his fingers again. With an annoyed grumble, the boy rubbed his chest again.

“Do you think something’s up with your powers?” Sam quietly asked.

The halfa looked up, frowning. “No... I mean…”

The goth pointed. “Danny, you keep rubbing your chest.”

Danny looked down, brow furrowing. Below his palm, his core pulsed. There was something… strange about the rhythm and…. he adjusted the position, pressing just the smallest bit harder. Normally, it fit comfortably under his palm but now... “It’s... bigger?” He muttered.

“What?” Tucker asked.

Danny lowered his hand. “My core?” He shook his head. “No... I’m imagining it.” His core pulsed unhappily, even as he rubbed his forehead. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

Sam and Tucker again looked like they wanted to argue, but the bell rang and they split up, each hurrying to their next class.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the school day was surprisingly normal. Just his typical classes, without even a ghost fight to interrupt his day. Danny should have felt relieved for such a chill day after what happened last night but yet…. The boy tapped his pencil on his desk. He felt anxious. He must still be shook up, like he told his friends this morning. 

Danny bit his lip, shaking the writing instrument in his hand again. It went flying out of his grip and clattered onto the floor. The boy huffed as he bent down to grab it. His hand hadn’t even turned intangible this time.

With that, the boy straightened in his seat. He glanced at the clock. 20 more minutes left in class. Just 20 minutes. Then he could go home and take a nap. He rubbed his eyes. He was still tired after getting back so late. Maybe some sleep would help him feel better.

Soon enough, the bell rang. Danny stood and walked to his locker. This time, he remembered the combination without wracking his brain. He pulled out his books and turned to his friends, who were collecting their own belongings.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Danny said.

“Yeah, see you later.” Tucker replied.

“Call us if something comes up with the ghosts.” Sam frowned. “I’m grounded but…. I’ll sneak out if you need me.”

The technogeek groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m grounded too.”

The halfa looked down guiltily. “Sorry.” He bit his lip. “You guys shouldn’t be grounded because you had to save my sorry butt.”

“It’s fine.” Sam comforted. “We weren’t not going to save you. We’re your friends.”

“Yeah.” Tucker agreed. “It’s just the price to pay for being superheroes.”

Danny half-smiled, though he didn’t much feel like it. He wasn’t much of a hero. Guilt still choked his heart. He hated getting his friends in trouble. But still…. “Thanks for having my back.”

“No problem.” Tucker confirmed.

Then down the hall, someone called his name. “Danny?”

The boy turned. It was his sister, Jazz. He frowned. Oh right, he hadn’t talked to her since he’d been half out of it last night.

The girl quickly approached. “There you are. Come on. I’m driving you home.”

Jazz didn’t give him a choice as she started leading him towards the entrance. Danny waved at his friends, watching their worried faces until he turned the corner. 

Less than two minutes later, the pair were seated in Jazz’s car. The girl didn’t start the vehicle, instead turning to face her brother. “Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?”

“I... Uh…” Danny stuttered, trying to collect his thoughts.

“You disappeared during the middle of school. Sam and Tucker said some weird ghost girl showed up. You went off to fight some ghost and the next thing they knew, Vlad was carrying you away.”

The boy crossed his arms. “It sounds like you already know what happened.” He muttered.

Jazz pinned a serious look. “I know Vlad kidnapped you but…. what did he do to you?”

Danny paled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Something happened. You were unconscious when Sam and Tucker got back. And you were super out of it when you woke up. But you weren’t physically hurt. What did Vlad do to you?” His sister pushed.

Danny swallowed, his stomach flopping. “I... I don’t…. It’s fuzzy….” 

Jazz rose a brow, her tone suggesting she knew there was more to it. “Danny.”

The boy flinched. “I... he... Vlad electrocuted me?” He remembered. Being locked in a pod, electricity running through him. The creepy hologram of his mom. But... but... there was more.

His sister paled. “Oh... I’m so sorry.” Her voice softened and she didn’t say anything for a while, then… “Do you know why he did that?”

Danny stiffened, looking up. The reason sparked in his mind, with the image. Vlad hissing in front of him, boasting his plan. The man had explained but…. the words stayed just out of reach. Danny's face set in a pointed frown. He shook his head.

Jazz’s own frown deepened. “That little girl…. Sam and Tucker said she looked just like you in ghost form. What does she have to do with all this?”

The boy avoided her eyes, heart fluttering nervously. The little girl.... her face snapped into focus in his mind. Danielle, that was her name. But... there was another word. Started with an S or…. a C. She was like him; she was a clo-

Danny shook his head. No, that wasn’t right. Well…. part of it was right. Danielle had been there. She’d been helping Vlad. She helped the man hurt him; painful betrayal stabbed at him from the thought. But at the same time…

“She helped me. She helped me fight Vlad.” The half ghost said quietly, awed realization sparking as he remembered.

“But… who was she?” Jazz asked, equally quietly.

Just like that, the boy paled again. The word, the cursed word, formed in his mind without his permission. Clone. She was a clone of…. him?... No... that didn’t sound right... he was the same as her but... it had to be true. His frown deepened.

“Who was she?” His older sister asked again.

The boy shivered. “I... I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Danny.” Her voice softened. “You can tell me. It’s-”

“I... I can’t... I don’t wanna talk about it.” He focused on his hands in his lap, trying to keep them from shaking.

“Clearly, whatever happened is bothering you. You can tell me.”

“No. I-” Danny bit his lip, reaching for the door. He couldn’t stay in here with her, couldn’t deal with the questions he had no answers for or rather... questions he couldn’t bear to answer. The… the c word... he couldn’t say it, could barely think it. How could he explain how everything felt wrong, like he wasn’t actually-

“Wait.” Jazz cut off his thoughts. “You don’t have to talk until you’re ready. Just... let me drive you home.”

The boy lowered his hand and slumped back in his seat. “You... you promise? You won’t press?”

His sister’s brow furrowed. Her face was tight, like she didn’t want to agree; but after a long moment, she sighed. “Alright. I promise.”

Danny nodded. “Let’s go then.”

Jazz turned the car on, put it into drive, and pulled out of the parking lot. They drove home in silence. Once they arrived, the boy went straight up to his room. He rubbed his head, flopping down onto his bed. He needed... he needed a nap. Yeah…. That was it. He was still tired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sister smiled down at him. “Look at this!” The black haired girl held up her crayon drawing. “This is me.” She pointed. “And Muscles. And Bones. And Daniel.” Her smile widened as she tapped at the last figure. “And this is you.”

The being tilted his head. He floated up, placing small hands on the green figure on the paper. He blinked owlishly up at the girl.

The corner of the girl's mouth turned down. She placed down the paper and offered him a crayon. “Come on. You try.”

The tiny being hovered forward, reaching out to touch the crayon. It was so big, almost half as tall as he was. He frowned, trying to understand.

“Make yourself a little bigger and you’ll be able to hold it.” She encouraged. “Come on. You can do it.”

The being scrunched his brow and he stretched. He was about the size of a toddler, maybe two and a half feet tall. He reached out, grabbing the crayon with his slightly larger hands.

“Great.” Sister said. She pushed a fresh piece of paper in front of him. “Now you draw. Like this.” She demonstrated, rubbing the crayon against the paper so color transferred onto it.

The being flopped down, sitting on the floor. Slowly, so slowly, he copied the girl. He traced his drawing instrument over the paper. He scribbled, creating a mess of lines and shapes without meaning or purpose.

Sister smiled proudly anyway. “You’re doing it. Good job, Tiny.”

He beamed, something in him sparking at the praise. He continued scribbling but the image changed into something more purposeful. A house took shape, stick figures. A large man and slimmer woman. A little girl and a little boy.

The little boy giggled at his drawing. His hands were chubbier than before. A toddler’s, instead of the miniaturized version of a teen’s. 

“Jazzy!” He looked up, showing off his drawing to the little redhead girl.

His older sister looked up. “That looks great, Danny!” She put her own crayons down, rubbing her sweaty forehead. “It’s so hot.”

The boy suddenly dropped his crayons and drawing. “Outside! Let’s go outside!”

“But it’s hot.” The girl repeated.

The boy was already running off. “Mommy! Mommy! Can we play in the sprinklers?! Please! Please!”

Mommy turned around from where she was making lunch. “After we eat, okay?”

“Okay!” The four year old beamed, already running up the stairs to get his swim trunks.

The next thing he knew, he was outside. Mommy set up the sprinkler. He and Jazzy ran around it, giggling. Daddy came outside with water balloons and Danny let out a happy scream. “Water balloons!”

The little boy grabbed one and threw it at his sister.

Danny blinked awake to bright light on his face. His nose wrinkled. It was still light out? Oh wait, he had been taking a nap. He sat up, yawning and rubbing his forehead. He’d been dreaming again, this time about…. He shivered, remembering. He’d been playing in the back yard with Jazz when he was four. And... he’d been with Danielle. She’d been showing him how to draw. 

The boy’s stomach flopped. That didn’t make sense. That hadn’t happened. Maybe... maybe he was thinking about her because Jazz had asked, earlier, when they’d been in the car but... that had felt like a memory.

Dread balled in his gut. He’d been small, smaller than her hand. And then he’d stretched and he was bigger, about the size of a toddler. Danny looked down at his hands, his human, properly sized hands. That, changing his size, wasn’t something he could do but…. In the dream, Danielle had called him Tiny. It didn’t make sense and yet….

He remembered. One of the other clones. The small green one. Danny shivered. That one, that one could shrink. That clone had overshadowed him.

The knowledge hit Danny like a ton of bricks. The tiny clone had overshadowed him. How... how didn’t he remember that until just now? How hadn’t he realized? Danny grimaced, a sickening feeling squeezing his insides. He’d been possessed. Someone else had been in his body, controlling his actions, messing with his mind. The boy wrapped his arms around himself. He felt violated at the thought. That was so wrong. Vlad had ordered one of his clones to overshadow him. And…. more memories of the experience pressed into his mind.

Danny had been semi-aware of the other presence. There had been a fight for control, another core so close to his and…. Memories, thoughts that weren’t his. Flashes of the tiny clone’s memories. And the feeling of tiny hands rifling through his own mind.

Danny pulled his knees to his chest. That must be why he’s felt so off. It was the aftereffects of being possessed. And that dream, the flashes of memory…. he must be remembering what he’d seen and felt from the tiny clone while it had been possessing him.

The boy sighed. But... the feeling would go away eventually, right? It would. He’d felt off after Sidney had overshadowed him as well. It had taken a bit to get used to being in his own body again. And Sidney was more experienced with overshadowing than his clone had been. The ghostly nerd knew how to push Danny’s spirit out of his body, instead of forcing both ghosts to cohabitate. That was why there were strange memories now, unlike last time.

But it didn’t matter. He’d get back to normal soon enough and his friends and sister would have nothing to worry about. Everything would be okay, right?

Danny stood up, rolling his shoulders to stretch. He had homework to do. He sat down at his desk, trying to ignore the way his stomach still flopped.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

The Mom Friend

Yeah… though Neku had certainly never signed up to be these four’s mom—and he still had no idea how that had happened—he now knew he wouldn’t change it for the world. Oneshot. Canon compliant. Mom friend Neku. Neo spoilers.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33385999

At first, if you had asked Neku if he had become the mom friend of the Wicked Twisters, he would have laughed in your face.

Because while he would admit he loved the youngins’—and was very protective of them—some old habits of wanting to be cool, and being somewhat rough around the edges, died hard.

But it was with Nagi that Neku finally realized that this was the case.

The girl had decided to go vegetarian, but her body was rejecting not having a lot of protein and thus needed something like nuts this very instance? Who was it but Neku, who went out to buy her some, at near three o’clock in the morning (because he was a good friend and had expanded his horizons that much), since her parents had recently died in a car crash and they could no longer do it for her, the poor girl.

So, Neku crept into Nagi’s dorm window around one-forty-five-ish—which, looking back on it, probably hadn’t been a good idea and could have scared his friend. But, hey: Neku had gotten used to being in the Game. And the week that Coco brought him back before he ran into Beat, he’d been in hiding, and had maybe gotten used to the idea some; and Nagi didn’t seem spooked, so maybe her mind was still stuck on sneaking around in the Reapers’ Game, too—and Nagi took the food out of Neku’s hands like it was the easiest thing in the world before ruffling his hair.

“Much obliged, Lord Neku,” she said as she fixed her glasses in this dim lighting, so she could see him better. Or so Neku guessed. “Now, hopefully, I can feel better enough, that I can work on my essay about the Canterbury Tales. …No one knows such suffering as me,” Nagi moaned, before going back to her bed and starting on the cashews.

“No, problem,” Neku said then—feeling sort of awkward, as he went to mess with a pair of headphones that were no longer on his person anymore—“if you need help with it… I, uhh, guess I could try and lend a hand. I have university coming up soon, too. And I know they’ll have me doing some English stuff, so…”

“Unless you want to be bored to tears, I suggest that you not make such a promise, unless your heart knows little joy,” Nagi warned him.

And Neku didn’t have to be told twice. So, he did backout of helping her with that paper.

But he knew when he visited Shiki soon—and she asked him what he’d been up to—she would still tease him about being the mom friend, for going out and buying protein for Nagi in the wee hours of the morning.

…

And it continued on like that… and Neku was somewhat loath to admit it, because hey: he had an image to uphold here.

But then again… maybe not, because if this was him pushing out his borders as far as they would go—as Mr. H had instructed him to do three years ago—Neku knew he would gladly do so… even at the risk was being called a “mom”, and even an “old maid”, or something.

Right now, Rindo had severely hurt his ankle… and who was he holding onto as they hobbled away, with designs to get him to a hospital? Neku.

“This is the last time I ever try something from the 90’s again!” Rindo complained, as Neku was half-carrying him to his car now (and how nice it was, that Neku could drive now—from memories of another him that hadn’t lost such formative years—that Joshua had implanted into his head).

“Yeah, Rindo… scooters were cool and everything—yours truly had one—but even I don’t know why you decided to try and bring them back now of all times… Especially since they had a bad habit of spinning right back around and nailing you in the ankle… which you know all too well now,”

And godamnit. Neku really had become the mom friend, huh, if he was now telling his younger friend this venture had been dangerous from the get-go, and how he could have easily seen that if he’d tried to?

Neku pulled on one of his spikes, irritated with himself here, but tried not to show Rindo, lest he think he was mad at him.

“Well, I’d thought about getting a motor scooter,” Rindo explained, Neku loading his pal into his backseat now. “So, I think that’s what got scooters on my brain… But I was trying to be green, and still think of a faster way to catch things in FanGo than walking! And now look where it got me. Oy! …But I guess I shouldn’t be complaining. This should be the least of my problems, when just a few weeks ago I was fighting for you guys’ survival, huh?”

And Rindo paused in where he’d been about to put a hand over his eyes, to peek at Neku now who was currently getting into the driver’s seat—as if he was asking for the past Living Legend to remind the new one to have his priorities straight.

“For real,” Neku told Rindo, whilst he started to pull away now. “When I got out, I was mostly thinking about the Game… about what Joshua did, and how even then, I still trusted him but couldn’t forgive him. And I was so excited to finally meet up with my friends—to finally have some and care about that—be glad, Rindo, that you got out with your friends, and there’s so much trust between you. Like there is between Josh and I now.”

And Rindo set down his phone then—apparently like he had when he first met Shoka in the RG—like he was really listening to what Neku had to say, and he had to appreciate that.

And it might have been his imagination… but Neku could have sworn he saw a flash of blue nodding his head at Neku’s words, as it sat back there with the injured Rindo.

…

The next time Neku ended up being the “mom” for someone in the Wicked Twisters, after the Game, it was with Fret.

It was towards the end of his and Rindo’s sophomore year of high school…

Fret had been ecstatic to come back to life, Neku had known, and wasn’t wasting his second chance. He had really thrown himself into his studies, Rindo had told Neku in private (quite proudly, Neku might add).

If he could keep it up, he would probably even be able to graduate early. And talent scouts were looking at him, Neku had been told: towards a kid who hadn’t strived that hard in school, but now was and excelling because of it.

Naturally, Fret had decided that his calling was fashion—everyone who had been playing the Reapers’ Game with him would have gathered just how much he loved clothes—and apparently he had really thrown himself into designing towards the end of the year, and was trying to put a portfolio together for Jupiter of the Monkey to look at: who the school was suggesting he try and intern with, as they had some connections with (and damn, if Neku didn’t wish he’d gone to Fret and Rindo’s school now, being a huge J of the M fan himself).

Part of Neku wondered why Fret just didn’t try to intern with Shiki during his senior year, but perhaps it was because he was afraid Shiki would just give him the position because they were friends and not because she really thought he was talented.

Anyway… Fret hadn’t gotten the internship. J of the M had said the Fret should try to use less color (you know what? Maybe Neku didn’t like them very much anymore…).

And since then… Fret had seemed to give up on his dream of being a fashion designer, and was trying to be an actor.

And, look: Neku had no problem if him wanting to do both, if he thought he could do it and this was really what Fret wanted… though call him crazy, but he felt like something else was at work here: something that Neku and Shiki had both experienced before.

So, Neku had sat Fret down to talk about it at Ken Doi’s—away from the filmmakers who were currently trying to film in Dogenzaka, that Fret had just been a part of—and laid it all out on the table, “It’s okay… to get Imposter Syndrome. I’ve had it before with my art. Even Shiki has before. But if you want to be an artist, you’re going to fall down a few times… Fret, I feel like you don’t want to be an actor, so much as you don’t mind people dinging your acting, because that isn’t something you care about as much as your designing.”

And after Neku had spoken, Fret somehow looked both like Neku had made him had an epiphany he hadn’t quite realized, and like Neku had stumbled upon the horrible truth he hadn’t wanted anyone to figure out.

Neku took a bite of the yummy curry that Ken Doi had been kind enough to make just for him, after he’d brought Joshua around recently (he’d said he’d missed the two of them. Go figure), and let Fret get his bearings.

And now he was sighing, and running a hand through his hair, much like Neku often did. Neku smiled, finding it hard not to sympathize.

“Oh, man. I really do have to get back into fashion, huh?”

“You do,” Neku agreed, wondering what wonderful articles of clothing Fret might come up with for him to wear in the future. Shoka, too. Really, with those two and Shiki and Eri, Neku had it made in the clothes department, and he was not complaining. “And it’ll be hard sometimes. But most things in life worth gaining are.”

And when Fret smiled back at him, Neku knew he’d made some progress here—which was good—and then he did one thing that was decidedly not mom-like, and let Fret get the bill. Why? Because Neku was a starving college student at this point, and Fret still had parents who paid for stuff for him.

…

And then the last person who needed Neku’s help (…for now, he guessed. Because apparently this was a full-time gig. And at this point, Neku wasn’t complaining because he happily would have taken custody of all the Wicked Twisters long ago if he could’ve), was Shoka.

…Who was freaking out after Rindo having tried to give her a promise ring and wasn’t at all being her usual FanGo loving self, where Rindo was concerned.

And, yeah… Shoka could be a bit of a tsundere sometimes, but Neku felt like the issue ran much deeper.

Neku also happened to see Shoka looking into the mirror a lot lately… And at first, he wondered if she’d become self-conscious like Shiki had been.

But upon hearing the arrogant comments that Shoka still said about herself—that Neku’s surrogate little sister so deserved to say, he thought—he knew that wasn’t the case.

He tried to use a bit of his soul power on her… because it turned out that Neku was strong enough to use it in the RG some, but all that really told the ginger was that it was a deep-rooted issue with Shoka and not what said issue was.

Finally, Neku knew he had to just talk to her.

“Let me in, Shoka,” he urged her—after he’d caught her looking at wedding dresses in her apartment at a group hang-out (it was just the two of them at said hang-out right now; everyone else had gone to get food for everybody). “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

And it was pretty fitting, Neku would later think, that he used Shiki’s old words to him with Shoka here, since she made him think of Shiki some—what with her favorite Mr. Mew hoodie and all. Especially when they’d been in the Game.

And at his question, Shoka sighed—like opening her thoughts to Neku was the biggest burden in the world—and dropped the magazine like it had burned her.

“What?” she demanded, fiddling with the zipper at her neck. “About Rindo? I feel like him wanting to give me a promise ring is silly—and of a time gone by—so of course I told him ‘no’, and give him a hard time about it. Not all of us can be you and Shiki, you know…”

And with that, Shoka seemed content to ignore Neku, and to go boot up her PS5 so she could play the “Stranger of Paradise” demo.

And, hey: more power to her—Neku thought it looked sick, too—but no way was he letting her get off that easily. “That’s a lie, Shoka, and we both know it. So, what’s really going on here?”

Shoka was sighing once more now—as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. And it probably was, with this tragic girl—but she shuffled on the couch closer to Neku, which he saw as a good sign. “Fine… I guess I should have known that I couldn’t lie to Mr. Soul-Reader… I just- I feel I look too much like them: Ayano and my little sister. And I know it’s dumb, but I worry about it.

“Will I be like Ayano and settle into one thing? Like, say I get really into being Rindo’s girlfriend here… but I force myself to marry him one day, because he really wants that: what if we end up living a loveless life because of that, I didn’t want to tie the knot but forced myself to just because it was what he desired? And since I look like Little Sis… If Rindo and I do end up together, what if I end up dying young like she did and leaving Rindo alone. It’s too much.”

And here Neku had to pull Shoka into a small hug and kiss the crown of her head, whilst he ran calming hands down her arms. Shoka had been through way too much trauma for someone so young. It wasn’t fair. But even with all of that… Neku had to make sure she was sure of one thing right now.

So, he got off the couch and kneeled in front of Shoka, so she was looking into his eyes, and wouldn’t miss how serious this was. “Shoka… you definitely have a lot of baggage there, that I do think you should talk to Rindo about. And I’m so sorry that you’ve lost so much family for someone so young… but know that your family isn’t you. Their lives aren’t yours, nor are the things that they did. The things you do are going to be totally different from them, and you have to make those decisions for yourself. Got it?”

“Okay, Neku,” Shoka allowed, while she helped to pull Neku back up now. And she seemed to be blushing a little… but that was okay, because so was he. Neku may have been the mom of this little group, but big declarations of the heart like that could still be hard for him.

“Thanks!” Shoka beamed, before throwing herself at Neku to give him a quick hug this time.

And Neku laughed slightly. “No problem. Now, what do you say we get super far in this awesome demo before our friends get back, for being losers in forgetting to take us with them to get the food?”

“I think that sounds like a pretty sweet deal!” Shoka agreed, already pulling away from Neku and going for the controller.

Yeah… though Neku had certainly never signed up to be these four’s mom—and he still had no idea how that had happened—he now knew he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Especially when the rest of his children came back happy—which was always a perfect sight to see—and Shoka did end up working things out with Rindo.

It was a wonderful world, indeed.

Author’s Note: Yeah, I’m headcanoning here that the last Dive that you do (not counting Rhyme) for the little ghost from Shinjuku was Shoka’s sister.

Hope you all enjoyed!

[foodcourtdetective]

Sleeping with Other People AU: Chapter One: First Time

summary: Dr. Spencer Reid runs into his first time Y/N after a car chase gone bad. They decide not to complicate their friendship by not sleeping together, but it proves to be harder than they think as they slowly fall terribly in love with each other. 

tags: sleeping with other people au, first time, virgin!spencer reid, slow burn, college!spencer reid but only in chapter 1, friends to lovers, TENSION, sexual themes, commitment issues, brief mention of cannibalism but it’s praying mantises calm down armie hammer

A/N: I have 12 parts planned out so please don’t let this flop girlies and non-binary buddies

word count 1.8k

AO3 x

May 13, 1999. Spencer Reid would not attempt to remember a day as unremarkable as this one. Sure, Mozart's first opera premiered, and the Bezalel Art School opened on the other May 13ths of history. But this particular date was in the midst of his finals. He was trying to work through a particularly difficult physics calculation when suddenly—

"HEYYYYYYYY!!! SOBEVICH??? YOU HERE, BUD???" The banging on his door, paired with an intoxicated feminine screeching, was incessant. Reid scoffed, maintaining focus on the task at hand. If you divide x by—

"MATTTTTHEEWWWW??!! COME GET Y'ALL'S JUICE!!" In response, he slammed the pencil down. A little shouting and banging wouldn't typically break his concentration that quickly. However, certain variables (a lack of sleep, other commotion in the dorms prior, not to mention a certain someone not responding to his AOL messages for over 48 hours) had brought him to the edge faster than a cliff diver. Rolling up the sleeves of his sweater and pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, Reid stormed up to his door and yanked it open.

"Heyyyyy wait a second... youuuuuu aren't Matty boyyyyy!" The nuisance in question wasn't his type at all. Her hair was too black and choppy, her eyes too dark with liner smudged everywhere, and her skirt was basically a napkin over her lap that highlighted her purple panties that were visible to anyone with eyes. Her painted lips twisted into a pout as she looked him up in down with interest. Before he could speak, RA Gideon turned the corner of the hallway and, spotting his target, picked up his pace.

"YOU! Young lady, you're not supposed to enter a dorm without getting signed in!" The girl snapped her gaze away from Reid to roll her eyes and drunkenly face the RA.

"I'm heeere! Can't someone else sign in for me?? I'm waiting for a friennnnd!" Gideon's face darkened with barely veiled annoyance, looking over to Reid.

"Is this girl bothering you? I can call campus police to escort her—"

"N-no! It's fine! She's here to see my roommate Matthew." Reid grabbed the clipboard out and scribbled down the details, looking frantically at the girl for her name.

"Y/N L/N aaaand NERDDD BOY are besties!!" She slurred in response. Gideon huffed as he scanned Reid's face carefully.

"Are you sure, Reid? She's your responsibility if anything happens." The student nodded once in reply, muttering thanks as he handed over the clipboard. Taking Y/N by the wrist, Reid pulled her into his room. He shut the door behind them with urgency but was careful not to slam it. Y/N scratched her bare knee lethargically, accidentally flashing him further.

"Alllrighty, here you look a little cold," he squeaked, awkwardly averting his eyes and turning his attention to his dresser to grab her a Cal Tech sweater his mom made him before she had to leave home. Y/N stumbled, leaning on the bed for stability as she took her heels off. As she did so, she took notice of the two beds pushed together.

"Does Matty even live here?? The beds are holding hands?" Reid managed a pitiful laugh as he tossed her the sweater. Pulling a face, she pulled it on. He gulped, noticing the hem barely skimmed her thighs. At least the purple is put away. Realizing he had caused a long pause in the terrible attempt at conversation, Reid quickly looked away from Y/N again.

"N-no, he lives with his boyfriend at Baker." Y/N's eyes widened, her lip trembling a little bit in shock as she hugged herself with the too-big sleeves.

"Dammmn, I shoulda known a brainiac like that was a bisexual. Didn't peg him for playing so hard to get otherwise."

"Did he try to flirt with you? Because he's basically married to Adam and not to mention the stereotype of bisexuals cheating-"

"is inaccurate and offensive blah blah blah I know, I am one... Nah, I was just hoping that being more forward would seal the deal! But I would never purposefully try to hook up with someone taken... and you're no longer listening to me," Y/N cut off her rambling as he had gravitated helplessly towards his brick of a computer with a glowing screen. He chewed on his lip thoughtlessly, only looking up when he felt Y/N's exasperated gaze on him.

"Sorry, I-I've been waiting for a message..." Y/N scuffled over beside him, her bare feet sticking slightly to the wood floor. Reid winced as she leaned across him to rest her hands beside the keyboard. He tried to move out of her way, but she ended up with her back pressed against him. Don't be embarrassing. Digits of Pi GO! 3.1415926—

"Oh, I know Jennifer! We went to East Allegheny. Fucking smoke show, but she has this praying mantis vibe," she said matter of factly. Reid's mouth gaped open and closed.

"A-what vibe?"

"You know... how they fuck! With the—"

"Female praying mantis engaging in cannibalistic mating behavior, biting off the head or legs of her mate and eating them. I've heard of it, but you should know that that behavior occurs in less than 30 percent of all mating sessions in the wild." As Reid rattled on, he slowly became aware of her piercing eyes on him and the warmth of her back. He sucked in a breath, cutting himself off from going further.

"Wow! Guess you weren't really studying! I'm sorry I interrupted your terrible Thursday evening," she quipped, gesturing to the now-abandoned physics equation. He hurried to close the notebook, tucking it away in his desk as he began to sweat.

"Oh, that! That wasn't studying! I was calculating to calm down." Reid somehow didn't expect the not-unfriendly laugh to erupt in front of him. She bent down to brace herself on her upper thighs as she guffawed, unintentionally pulling the sweater up from the back. Without thinking, he pulled it down for her dignity, but she grabbed his wrist tightly as he completed the action and locked eyes with him.

"What are you, a physicist?" She asked playfully. He gulped again as Y/N watched the movement of his prominent Adam's apple.

"N-not really. I'm working on my chemistry and mathematics masters right now, but I finished my physics MA last semester." She whistled in response, impressed.

"They LET you have that many?? Wait..." Her heated eye contact wavered, flicking up and down his body.

"There's no way! You're only like sixteen!"

"I'm EIGHT-teen! And yeah, I signed a waiver saying that MIT is not responsible for any poor grades or drops in my mental state," he winced as his voice cracked on his age.

"Guess what they say about MIT being smarted than BU kids is right! My med-track major could never be as flexible as yours, virgin," Y/N quipped, cheekily checking out the dark flush of crimson on his cheeks as he pulled away from her grip, facing the wall in frustration of two different types.

"WH-WHY! Why would you-"

"Spence, you're waiting by the computer for a direct message!" Reid sputtered in response, the nickname he had signed off as in her mouth sounded both so wrong and so right as he adjusted his stance to hide an unfortunate situation going on downstairs. Y/N rolled her eyes again as Reid suddenly realized that he loved the color of her eyes more than any color he had ever seen in his life, including Jennifer's. After a long, not uncomfortable, silence, Y/N made a step toward him, suddenly hesitant.

"Don't get your sweater all wrinkled! I'm a virgin too. That's why I came— you better fix that expression on your face, kid!" Reid realized that his shock had painted his face too clearly, flapping his hands frantically as he watched her face drop. The visible vulnerability struck a nerve within him; he didn't know if it was good or bad. As she turned back to the computer, he touched her shoulder in an attempt to get her to look at him.

"NO! No! Not in a bad way! Just individuals who are sexually confident in their self-image with a certain presentation tend to have already completed the act!" Y/N scoffed, rolling her shoulder to get away as if it burned her.

"PLEASE! Now who's engaging in the stereotypes, genius?"

"I'm sorry! You're just too beaut-attract-hot..." Reid kept cutting himself off in an attempt to quantify her looks properly. Y/N chuckled to herself, charmed as she finally looked to watch him fluster himself to try to rectify the insult.

"It's okay... You don't have to say anything. I mean, I couldn't even get Matthew fucking Sobevich to fuck me. As the guest TA, he managed to make four of my classmates pass out within the hour." She cast her eyes downward, fiddling with the loose string on the sweater near the sleeve. Reid swallowed, stepping closer to her. He bent his knees, basically in a squat, to try to get eye contact.

"You deserve better than Matt. I mean, look at you!" He gestured awkwardly at her whole body before framing her face with his fingertips. Y/N finally looked at him, the inner workings of her thoughts almost visible in her eyes as she straightened her gaze to bring him standing up. She cautiously brought her hand up to his chest, right over his heart.

"Well, if you want to date someone like JJ... you might want some experience... We could-- let's get it out of the way!" Y/N carefully explained her idea, her fingers walking up to brush against his Adam's apple. Reid shivered, pulling away to retreat toward his bed, almost involuntarily giving in to her plan.

"I-this was all supposed to be very romantic!! And-and now you've gone and just fucked it up!!" He squealed, watching as Y/N crossed her arms to take off his sweater from the bottom. She came over to sit on the bed, thoughtfully taking a second to let him gather himself before curling her index finger under his chin to get him to look at her.

"You are going to drive some girl crazy someday. With your long, Kurt Cobain hair and that infuriating mouth of yours," Y/N whispered sincerely, moving her finger to trace up his jaw and to hook under his glasses. Reid's breathing hitched, but he kept his gaze on her as she pulled his glasses off and gently put them on the nightstand.

"Say the word, and I'll stop. Say you don't want this, and we won't," Y/N continued, her other hand shaking on his knee as she inched closer to him. As she closed her eyes, Reid closed the gap between them, the hiss of heavy breathing from his nose the only noise in the room. She responded immediately, wrapping her fingers in his hair as they fell against the bed. Suddenly, May 13, 1999, wasn't so unremarkable after all.

[worldwidebt7]

I... have no idea why I decided to write this— especially on this blog because... I don’t really consider this a personal blog...

I suppose I just needed to vent? Get my thoughts out and hope that someone listens? I love my husband but... it’s like talking to a wall when it comes to this topic 😅

So... what I’m talking about is poor body image and everything that comes with it.

And I guess this is the part where I place a trigger warning for— jeez— just, everything? Talking about eating disorders, self-deprivation, low self worth, self body shaming, negative thoughts... so, if you’re triggered by these topics or anything similar, please read no further.

So, I guess I should preface this with a disclaimer: I love who I am. I love my mind, and the way I think and analyze. I love the way I love the things I’m passionate about.

But I hate that I can’t love the way I look.

I want to. I want to be happy and confident in how I look, but every time I see myself in a reflection I veer away as fast as possible. I can give you every reason in the book, but I couldn’t tell you where my poor body image comes from.

As far back as I can remember I have been hiding in clothes two sizes too big for me. Anything that will shield my imperfections from the world. Hell, I’ve even been living for these mandatory masks because that gives me the ability to hide my face. The less that can been seen of me, the better. I suppose that’s because I assume the rest of the world will judge me as harshly as I judge myself.

I have this saying: “Go ahead and say what you want because it can’t be worse than what I already tell myself.”

Which is true. In fact, I actively avoid mirrors when I can. I don’t even own a full body mirror. I have two vanity mirrors that show my face from the neck up and there are more than enough issues just there to keep me occupied for an hour.

Owning a full length mirror would be... well, let’s just say the last time I looked at myself at length in one I cried and nearly broke my hand.

I am... overweight for my height and body type. And for myself. About 35lbs (15.88kg) to be precise. I’m 5’1” (155cm) and of a petite build. I should weigh in the 112lb (50.80)-121lb (54.88kg). I understand that each body has its own version of healthy, but I can physically feel the effects that the extra weight is having on my body.

I should add that I wasn’t always this heavy. In middle school and high school I was about average weight even if it was a little over the “ideal” and later I was in the spectrum of healthy weight for my size twice.

And neither time did I get there healthily.

The first time was out of my hands— I had been quite ill with Lyme disease for the first two years of my college life and I was spending 75% of my time asleep or too weak to move. Surprisingly, I actually GAINED weight at this time and was at the unruly weight I’m currently at today.

However, that changed drastically when doctors finally discovered the cause of my ailments and put me on aggressive medication for it. I had Lyme for two years— there was already irreparable damage to by body from it. I though the treatment would be the end.

Wrong.

The pills prescribed to me were meant to eliminate the disease as swiftly as possible and consequently made me more ill. I was throwing up two to three times a day and with that came a sensitive stomach and a nonexistent appetite. I loved off of bread and chocolate milk for a month because that’s all my stomach could keep down.

I lost 35lbs (15.88kg) in four weeks. My body was eating itself. I was weak. Every bone in my body hurt. My eyes were sunken in. I couldn’t eat because the bacteria in my stomach were so damaged.

But I was finally— FINALLY— skinny. My body had essentially transformed over night in my suffering and I felt like at least one good thing had come out of me being sick.

I began working out regularly trying to gain some of my muscle back and I toned up, I had definition and some of my energy back. And I continued to try and nurse myself back to health for the next year by slowly introducing more food into my meals. I was trying to do the right thing for my body, but I also wanted to keep the weight off.

This was the first... and the last time I was ever happy with my body.

It lasted little more than a year.

Once I was able to eat full meals again after quite some time, I gained all the weight back— and then some. I was the heaviest I had ever been and I was MISERABLE. I had gotten a taste of my version of “the perfect body” and I ate it away.

This is where the self-hatred really set in.

After I graduated college and broke up with my boyfriend, I decided to lose the weight again. The beginning was hard— not due to lack of motivation or knowledge (my mother had been a personal trainer) but because my metabolism had be irreparably damaged from the earlier events. And when I stopped seeing results, I cut back on calories.

And cut back again.

And again.

And again.

Until— finally— I had lost most of the weight again. And I was eating 300 calories or less a day. Preferably less. The less I ate, the more I complimented myself for restricting and having restraint.

“You did good today!”

“With this, you’ll definitely lose weight!”

“Look at how flat your stomach is!”

Of course my stomach was flat. I hadn’t eaten anything!

And all the kind, sweet words to myself were doing was reinforcing horrible, life-threatening habits that I still struggle with today.

This also went on for a year, and, while I wasn’t completely satisfied with how my body looked, it was the last time I can pinpoint where I was happy. And because I link that period of time to happiness, I now connect the eating disorder I had to contributing to it.

Flash forward to now— four and a half years later. I am back to my miserable weight. I feel like my body isn’t mine, and that it’s betrayed me. And I hate it.

I am still in constant pain from the joint damage caused my the Lyme disease. My stomach is still sensitive and I often feel ill after eating (whether this is a physical response or a psychological one at this point I cannot tell). And my metabolism has never recovered from what was now 9 years ago.

And I have tried to lose the weight again. I went to a personal trainer and that worked for a bit— I dropped 11lbs (4.99kg) in about four months and I was eating healthy. But then I plateaued. I was told I needed to eat more since I was doing weight lifting. So I ate more and the weight started coming back.

I tried intermittent fasting, and that worked for a time. But then I did a body scan that measures fat vs muscle vs skeletal mass and it showed that the weight I was losing was actually muscle. I was told again to eat more, so I did.

I gained all 11lbs back.

Then I fell back on what I knew worked for me. Calorie deficit.

I started cutting back until I began to see weight drop, but immediately stopped when I realized that I would have to eat less than 700 calories a day for any sort of result.

So here I am, in my traitorous body with no light at the end of the tunnel. I have more issues than losing weight can resolve at this point. I should see a therapist, but I can’t afford one. I should consult a nutritionist, but, again, can’t afford that. The only reason I could afford a trainer because she was a friend of mine and gave me an amazing deal. However, after I had to drop $2k to fix the watermain to my house I was unable to afford that even.

I’m not the confident woman my husband married three years ago, and because of my insecurities and poor body image marital problems run rampant in our relationship.

I know there are many factors to how I view myself— I have unrealistic standards that I feel I must live up to. I have a deep-seeded fear of being ugly because at some point in my life I decided that only good things happen for beautiful people.

I was listening to a podcast today and they were discussing how hot people don’t need to develop certain personality traits or social skills because they’re beautiful and everyone loves beautiful people.

I guess I’ve always wanted to be one of these beautiful people.

It’s vain, and plastic, and superficial, and my common sense finds it absolutely ridiculous. But when I look in a mirror I can’t find anything that I actually like. It’s like I’m screaming from inside a body that I don’t belong in, because the way I feel about myself isn’t reflected in how I outwardly look.

Again, I love my mind. I love my art and the stories I want to tell with it. I love my soul. I just hate the cage it’s trapped in.

I don’t know why I decided to write this... I guess... I really just wanted someone to listen... and I wanted others who feel the same or have been through similar circumstances, that they’re not alone.

And I suppose not being alone and being heard can be exactly what’s needed sometimes.

I’ll delete this later.

[toilet-bound-messenger]

TBHK theory: is Tsukasa really the "abuser"? + the meaning of the ropes

So I know that it is a common belief in the fandom that Hanako was abused by someone close to him since he did say that "he forgives it". And since he forgives it, it's obvious that it must be someone important to him, right? And that someone is most likely Tsukasa... or is it?

The reason why we think that is because of Hanako's reactions to when he runs into Tsukasa. So I guess a lot of us just assumed that he reacted that way because he's scared of Tsukasa. But I think that rather being scared of Tsukasa, he's scared of himself. Remember when he jumped on Yashiro after Tsukasa first showed up? I can't find the post anymore but I do remember someone saying that reenacting a past traumatic experience is a common way to "deal" with it. Thus he jumped on Yashiro to emulate that because seeing Tsukasa made him remember when he killed him. Which is why he's always so uncomfortable around Tsukasa: because it makes him think of a traumatic event. Not necessarily because Tsukasa was the "abuser".

We also have this image:

Which makes us think that Tsukasa might be the abuser because Hanako is bound by ropes while a shadow that looks like Hanako is saying something in his ear. A common idea here, is that the shadow is Tsukasa, however I'm not sure about that. If it really is Tsukasa, then why does he not have the patch on his right cheek? It might just be me, but besides the clothes, I think that the obvious way to tell Hanako and Tsukasa apart is the patches they have on their cheeks. Hanako's is on his left cheek and Tsukasa's is on the right. But as we can see the shadow doesn't have Tsukasa's patch. If the shadow does have a patch then it's on the side that we can't see: the left side, the same as Hanako's.

Thus, I think that this shadow might, or might not be a metaphoric representation of Hanako himself, fucking himself over and tying himself town out of guilt because he killed his brother. Hanako is blaming himself. After all, we can also see the knife being bound as a way to remind himself of what he did.

Oh, and let's talk about the ropes.

Another belief is that maybe Hanako was abused with ropes, that Tsukasa may have been into... bondage?? And he did that to his twin brother?? This doesn't sound right, doesn't it?

Tsuchigomori says: "you're always covered in cuts and bruises" but there's no mention of ropes. I mean, I'm only assuming here, but if the abuser really did use ropes then wouldn't they be easy to see? Tsuchigomori also says that it happens every single day so all the bruises he has on his body must always be fresh/recent, right? I would guess that rope bruises are really easy to identify whether you're a nurse or a normal person.

But then... What the hell do the ropes mean?! Well I have an easy answer to give: those ropes are a recurring theme in TBHK.

Almost all of the covers of the volumes have ropes on them and even side art from Aida.

Look at this:

So there could be 2 different explanations for this:

1) Aida likes drawing ropes

2) Ropes are a metaphor for something

I think it's obviously answer n°2.

Maybe what I'm going to say sounds super obvious, but I feel like ropes are a way to show us that all of those characters are "bound" together. Their stories and lives are all tied together since they're all important characters in the story and they're the ones to move the plot forward.

We can see it especially here:

The rope is tied to Hanako's pinky finger, and most times, in Japanese culture they call that the "red string of fate". Basically, you're tied to someone else. Which is most times your soulmate. That whole rope thing means that all of those characters' fates are tied to eachother.

But now the last point: if I don't think that the abuser is Tsukasa and that the rope doesn't mean that Hanako was abused with ropes then what the hell does this all mean? Who's the abuser?

Well to be honest... I don't know.

I think the obvious answer here would be their parents. I mean, we know nothing about them. Where are they?? Could Hanako and Tsukasa be orphans?

Maybe they were abused in the orphanage, after all, it's common knowledge that Japanese orphanages are shit. (Or at least they were shittier back then, maybe now it's better but I'm not a specialist in the subject.)

Also, isn't it weird how we always saw past Hanako but never past Tsukasa? Why? Why haven't we seen him yet? Maybe because Tsukasa was abused even more than Hanako.

Let me explain: we got this whole explanation

This is in chapter 46 when Amane was talking about Scorpius and Antares, and how they're actually twin stars but that one of the 2 is brighter than the other so you can only see one of them. (Sorry for the quality of the image, I can't find better.)

This is obviously a metaphor for Amane and Tsukasa. So what does it all mean?

Well, long story short: I think that Tsukasa wasn't allowed to go to school while Amane was.

If my orphanage theory is correct, then I would guess that the orphanage had funding issues (I mean, it's a problem even to this day and not only in Japan. Orphanages being short on money because the governement doesn't care enough to help abandoned kids is ocurrent.)

So I don't find that hard to believe that the orphanage might've been like "Fuck it! Let' send the older twin brother to school and the younger one can stay here. We can't afford to send all of our children to school after all." I mean it's weird, right? That in the flashback Tsuchigomori didn't even mention Tsukasa. If Tsukasa was really going to school and was the abuser then wouldn't Tsuchigomori be like "oh, it's weird how your twin brother doesn't have any bruises while you do. Is he the one to do this?"

But no. There is absolutely no mention of Tsukasa whatsoever. Which is really, really weird. I had twins in my classroom throughout elementary school and middle school and they were always put in the same classroom. So if Tsukasa really did go to school I would guess that they would not only be in the same classroom, but also Tsuchigomori would bring him up.

Thus while Amane was in school, Tsukasa was the one being abused, and that's why he's so fucked in the head. Because Tsukasa was actually the one getting most of the beatings, the cuts and the bruises.

Of course, school in Japan lasts longer than in the west with the clubs and all. But I would guess that Amane didn't join a club because he wanted to get back as quickly as possible to help his brother. That's why Amane didn't have any friends. Because he would always rush to the orphanage after school.

I think, Amane being the caring big brother he is, he would take the abuse instead of Tsukasa when he was "home" to protect him as much as he could, but since he was at school most of the time, Tsukasa was the one taking most of the beatings.

And since Amane was going to school, I would guess that they went "easier" on him so the teachers wouldn't call the cops on them. That's also why Amane decided "not to go anywhere anymore."

Because whenever he's away from his brother, Tsukasa gets hurt. Amane decided to throw his dream away to protect Tsukasa from the abusers.

And so, that is also why I think that Tsukasa has a mental illness. That's why he's so much more emotionally unstable than Amane. Hanako has obviously problems too, but Tsukasa is the one who got the short end of the stick.

I would guess, Tsukasa may be a sociopath at this point. A current belief, is that sociopaths like to hurt animals/kill them to feel something. When someone is abused, what the brain does is to "repress" emotions to feel less pain. That's how different mental illnesses get born.

For example, "dissociating" to feel like you're not you, to believe that it's someone else who's suffering right now your brain tries to make you believe that you're "out" of your body.

Dissociative personality disorder makes you develop multiple personalities inside yourself so you can switch between them and feel like you're safe while another personality is taking the abuse for you.

And then, of course, sociopathy, your brain "turns off" your emotions for you to stay "sane" but funnily enough, in the long run it makes you insane since you can't feel emotions in normal situations anymore.

A lot of mental illnesses come from traumatic experiences, they're defensive mechanisms after all. Mental illnesses are your brain trying to protect you from excessive pain...

This got dark real quick, sorry.

Anyway, this whole theory started with a thought I had: "Why would a sibling, not to mention a TWIN, abuse his brother?"

The conclusion I came to is: they wouldn't.

I'm not saying that it's definitely impossible at a 100% but I always found that weird how everyone thinks that a twin sibling would abuse his other sibling. Especially since twins are so close.

And to end it all...

I think that what went down with the Yugi siblings is that, one day they decided to end it all. They couldn't take the suffering anymore so they decided to kill themselves.

But right at the end, Tsukasa's emotions finally kicked in and he got scared at the last moment. And so, he begged Amane to finish the job. Amane then got traumatized from killing his brother and he ran to the girls' bathroom and hung himself out of guilt. Or maybe he also stabbed himself like Tsukasa? Who knows.

[talesofafangirlwithadvr]

SEPTEMBER PICKS

I don’t know about you, but this felt like a long month. I just looked back on my August post and that felt like another life. Putting together this list I couldn’t believe how much I was able to watch with the start of the semester. There was a lot of great ones, so let’s get to it!

Our usual spoiler warning....

...

......

The Umbrella Academy

Umbrella Academy was a show that I started at the end of August. Many people I know were shocked I had never watched it and honestly I don’t know what took me so long. It was great and made even better by the second season getting released this summer. Now I had even more episodes to watch. 

I love how chaotic the Hargreeves are. The things that happen to them would only happen to them (if you know what I mean). I also love how they always put family first. Despite everything that’s happened to them. They might all be a mess (and honestly who isn’t), but deep down they love each other. For the first season I thought it was great how they formatted the plot. These characters were new to us and they didn’t give us all the backstory. (When you think about it we still don’t know how Ben died.) It made me continue tuning in and figure it all out. I always sensed Vanya had powers and I know it’s shocking that I wasn’t spoiled coming into the show so late. I liked the irony of the family essentially creating the apocalypse themselves by locking Vanya up.  Leonard aka Harold always felt shifty to me. I also liked the way they set up his story. Five and Klaus are definitely my favorites of the siblings. I love how Five is such an old man in a young kid’s body. The way they show his teleportation is really cool. The early scene in Run boy run, episode 2, is definitely one of my favorites from the whole show. The images paired with the song are chilling. Really nice job there. I love how Klaus’ power has been explored. We see more of it in season 2 and it’s something I wasn’t expecting. I love his and Ben’s relationship and I easily fell into the Klaus/Dave ship. We only got a slice of their backstory and I was already too invested. Season 2 took me a little bit to get into with the new setting, but after about two episodes I did. I really liked the plot and found it funny that there was yet another apocalypse. With that cliffhanger, I can’t wait to see where season three is headed.

Derry Girls Re-watch 

2020 felt like a good time to re-visit my girls in Derry. I wanted something familiar and funny and this was perfect. I just love this show. It makes me so happy after watching it. I’m so thrilled that we’ll eventually get a third season (even if it will be the last). This watch through I am noticing how many songs are in each episode. (Might help I’ve been watching it with subtitles.) There are so many bops. Sister Michael is always my spirit animal. She is hilarious! I also feel Gerry gets funnier as the season goes on. When he’s making the sandwiches at the funeral I crack up EVERY.TIME. I also love the seriousness of the show too. There are SO MANY great parallels. In the season one finale when the historical bomb goes off and the girls are shown at school unaware and just dancing with Orla it is so pure. Then we see Da put his hand on Gerry’s shoulder. Wow. It shows how the generations were affected. I will suggest this show to everyone no matter what they like to watch. IT IS THAT GOOD! So, why aren’t you watching it? (Or Re-watching?)  

Violetta Season 3

We can all rejoice! The third and finale season of Disney’s Violetta was released onto Disney Plus mid month. As someone who recently finished the second season, it was no surprise that I was ecstatic and wanted to watch it ASAP. This season is hands down the fastest one I have gotten invested into. Usually it takes me a bit to get into the new plot and characters. Because I’ve gotten so attached, I’m worried that means it will go downhill. I’ve heard mixed things about season 3. But let’s focus on the positives! There is so much music so far (both old and new songs). I am loving a lot of the new songs: En Gira and Armor En El Aire. I like how they started on tour and how they included actual footage from the real tour. Now they are in their last year in the studio (so I guess Seniors?). Lots of changes are already occurring including people leaving the Studio. Some are headed to Gregorio’s Art Rebel. I have to say that Gregorio has grown on me so much and now he is one of my favorite characters. I love his relationship with Diego and every time they call each other Papa and son. OMG it’s fantastic! So great to see them happy. This season we have a new teacher, Milton and I honestly can’t figure out what his deal is. Why is he so mean? I’m in episode 18 now and I am happy Leon and Vilu are still going strong. Obviously, they’re going to have issues (and they’ve already had minor ones), but it’s good to still see them in love. (It is adorable how they call each other Amor.) I also like that their “love triangles” seem to be misunderstandings right now. I’m in the VERY early stages of Fran and Diego and honestly I am so in love with them already. I’m going to fall hard for this ship. I know it. I am so tempted to continue watching spoilers, but I feel they’re not true spoilers if I can only find them in Spanish with no subtitles. ;) 

Sunshine on Leith

My journey through watching George Mackay films continued with Sunshine on Leith. This was a great choice and I highly recommend. The main difficulty is how to access it. I couldn’t find it fully anywhere online or through a streaming service, so I wound up purchasing it through Amazon and getting it as a UK DVD. This means you need a Multi-region DVD player to watch it. (I know. It’s weird that not all DVDs are the same.) Of course, I have one of these. I am a TV/Movie junky and love a lot of British programs that are unavailable to purchase in the US. I got it a few years ago also on Amazon and it was pretty cheap. I haven’t had any issues with it, so I highly recommend. 

The movie musical includes songs from the Proclaimers and takes place in Edinburgh. As someone who got to visit Edinburgh it was so cool to see the characters in places I’ve actually been. Before watching the film, the only Proclaimers song I knew was (of course) 500 miles. While watching I realized I actually new more and those I didn’t know I really liked. So, now I have a new playlist on my phone. Some are the original songs and others are from the movie (because I prefer their voices on some). What was cool to see was how not all the actors had the strongest voices, but could sing really well. I’m not sure if this was a purposeful choice or not. (I’d have to look more into it.) At times the plot felt a little rushed. Overall it was a fairly short musical, so that was probably why. Characters seemed to know each other really well really fast. So, if a lot of time would have passed I didn’t notice it. I can’t wait to re-watch the film. George Mackay in the cast brought me to watch it, but I stayed for a great story. (And of course I fell more in love with my crush on Mackay...No shock there :) 

I Am Not Okay With This

Netflix’s I Am Not Okay With This had been in my queue since the beginning of this year, but I didn’t get the chance to watch it till now....when I heard it got cancelled. [Netflix hit us with this news about a month back when they released that shows that were originally picked up were now getting dropped for a second season. I Am Not Okay With This and The Society were on the chopping block.] To make the comment everyone else already has, I am Not Okay With This. 

Despite knowing the show got cancelled, I still wanted to watch it. As I was watching Derry Girls, I wanted another show that was contemporary. I was very surprised to see how few episodes there were as well as how short they each were. It was a very quick watch because of this. While I expected this show to be contemporary with a touch of the supernatural, as Syd has powers, I was not expecting it to be so much more! This show blends so many genres and it does it so well. I honestly don’t know if I’ve seen it done before...at all. Which makes it hard to compare to some others. It feels like an Indy/Contemporary Coming of Age with both supernatural and thriller vibes. It even touches into horror-ish towards the end of the season. If only there was another season to see where it would go. And that ENDING! Is it bad I laughed? I think I did because I was not expecting it to go down like that AT ALL. Syd was a very dynamic main character and I really like how they had her explore who she truly is. Her and Stan’s friendship is one that I strive for. (Speaking of, where can I get a Stanley Barber? I need one in my life.)If you’re willing to be upset that the show got cancelled and there is no second season in the works, then I definitely suggest you just out I Am Not Okay With This. 

Enola Holmes

Man, I feel like I’m giving a lot of support to Netflix this month, but there was a lot coming out/ a lot in my queue so it makes sense. Overall, I would give Enola a 7/10. I had a lot of hype for this one (as it was one of my highly anticipated watches for September), which I think hurt my overall reaction. This doesn’t mean it wasn’t entertaining and enjoyable. I loved the female empowerment message as it was very strong. Millie Bobby Brown was fantastic and so charismatic as Enola. I loved the feature of her talking to us as well as giving some really great facial expressions. I am a sucker for a retelling (of any kind, but especially Sherlock Holmes), so I loved the concept and how they included a younger sister to the Holmes family. I know there has been some conversation about how Sherlock was portrayed and that’s not really Sherlock, but I had no problem with this (and I’m not just saying that because he was played by the dashing Henry Cavill). Honestly, Mycroft’s character bothered me more. I get that there had to be a “villainous” character (well other than the one in the mystery), but he felt a little too over the top. The movie felt a little too long at times and I still don’t like the reason for why her mother left and the conclusion to that plot. It did set it up as if there could be a sequel and I would definitely watch it. 

I would also like to add that I cannot get enough of the cast. Thanks to the YouTube interviews Netflix keeps uploading, I am falling more and more in love with this trio. They just seem like so much fun and I would love to be a part of this cast. They feel like siblings! 

Harriet

Another one in my watch-list for September can be checked off! Harriet has been a film that I have been wanting to watch since it came to theaters last year, but I felt like it came and went pretty fast. Luckily HBO just released it in the past month or so, which made me to tape it. I am so happy I did. 

WOW! Why didn’t I know about these facts about Harriet Tubman sooner? Why aren’t we taught these parts of history in school? I already knew she was amazing, and this just put her over the top. She did SO MUCH! It’s super impressive that she was a part of the Civil War and fought. Not only was this something difficult to do as a Black person, but also as a woman. I didn’t know about her visions, so that was something I Googled right when the film was finished. She never lost a freed slave in their journey to freedom. The list goes on and on how amazing Harriet Tubman was. This film showcases that so well and Cynthia Erivo is amazing as Harriet. (I have to start finding synonyms for ‘amazing’.) Her voice...WOW! Before watching the film, I have loved listening to “Stand Up,” but now afterwards it takes on a whole new meaning. Especially when you understand the direct quote from Harriet Tubman: “I go to prepare a place for you.” CHILLS! This film was nominated for multiple Academy Awards and it should have gotten one. WATCH HARRIET!

The Crimson Field

I’ve noticed that most of the programs I watch through Amazon Prime Video are mainly period dramas. So it was no shock that I would tune into The Crimson Field, a 7 episode series following the nurses and surgeons in France during WWI. As someone who is often more drawn to WWII, I am finding myself interested to watch more things involving the first World War (ie: 1917 and Tolkien). And this show was just what I needed. The pressure was on to watch it though, as it was only available through Prime Video till September 30th. Luckily with only 7 episodes this was an easy feat to accomplish, plus the first couple I marathoned because it was so good. As with any show it took a little bit to understand the setting and the cast, but I feel like I got to know them rather quickly, which made me invested to know what would happen next. I did find it strange that Prime Video only had access to the show for a month as it originally aired on BBC one and then PBS in 2015. The streaming service has programs older than that readily available to watch any time. 

The beginning of the series was definitely stronger in my opinion. I like how they gave breadcrumbs into people’s backstories, such as the main character Kitty. There was a lot of mystery there when we first learned she had a kid and then of her scandalous marriage. There are still a few things that I don’t 100% understand, but that might be because they thought they were getting a season 2 (but they did not). And with the way they ended the show it definitely had the feel. I enjoyed Kitty and Tom’s romance, but more at the beginning than at the end. With Tom’s character, I feel like they set him up as the super nice guy while Miles was the player, but then as the show progressed they decided Tom should have more Mr. Darcy traits and I just thought that was out of his character. Either way, I did still like him (and Miles) and could listen to Richard Rankin’s Scottish accent ALL DAY! It wasn’t until I looked up his IMDB that I made the connection that he is on Outlander now. Can you see the resemblance to him now? 

   Phineas and Ferb the Movie: Candace Against the Universe

And don’t we all just feel against the universe sometimes?

I know my range for this month is all over the place, so is it that shocking that I would add a cartoon to the mix. Definitely not...especially because it’s Phineas and Ferb. One of my favorite Disney Channel shows. Watching this film feels like FOREVER ago because it was so early in the month. I’ve only watched it the one time (because I don’t think it needs a second watch...I guess that tells you something), so let’s see how much I remember...

It’s been a while since we’ve had a new installment of Phineas and Ferb grace our screens and it was great to see the citizens of Danville once again. In a way, it felt like no time had passed. (And for them I guess it hadn’t because it always seems like the same summer.) It just felt like the moment for Phineas and Ferb. While I was really happy to see our beloved characters again, the plot of this film felt familiar. Very Queen of Mars. Now thinking back, it’s hard for me to relay what happens and I think that’s a good way to describe this movie. It was very familiar, and I wish they would have done more with it. I can’t even remember any of the songs (and that’s often my favorite part). Of course, it had all the classics antics and jokes. I love how Perry was helping out the kids and had to be very secretive about it. I always love a good Candace and Venessa team up. Dr. Doof was hilarious as usual and his pairing with the kids (specifically Isabella) was a great time. My favorite part was when they got meta and did the reverse engineering of their animation and then we saw the creators in front of the story boards. That was really cool and unexpected. Overall, it felt like Phineas and Ferb and made life in quarantine a little bit easier. 

....

........

Well! That’s a wrap. These were some of my favorite picks to talk about (even if it took me longer than usual). I hope you watched some great stuff last month and continue to find new picks for October! 

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Surprises (19)

I’m back! It’s just been one bad thing after another and I’m sorry that I’ve been gone. This one is a very small update because I messed it up right before it should have been posted. And then I had personal issues at home and then tumblr refused to post. I should be back to regular updates on everything now, fingers crossed, and I’m sorry this isn’t longer.

Full Masterlist.

Surprises Masterlist.

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Azriel was honestly, slightly scared for his life. Yes Elain loved him, he was the father of her child and gods did he love them both. But the way she had glared at him merely two minutes ago had him on edge. Apparently, absolutely none of her clothes fit her anymore. He’d tried telling her she could just use his shirts, it wasn’t like she had to go to school. She was suspended since she had punched Ianthe, but he was proud of his girl, the bitch deserved it for calling his little one a bastard. Elain had sort of sobbed and yelled at him, saying she just wanted to feel beautiful in her own clothes. He thought she always looked beautiful and he told her just that. Elain threw a shoe at him in response. This is why he was now sitting safely downstairs and drinking coffee in the kitchen, almost spilling it everywhere when Mor burst through the doorway. “Good morning shitstain! I am here to make your day so much brighter.”

Gods, she had no idea of how incredibly right she was.

Azriel let out a sigh of relief and started motioning for her to leave. “Elain is upstairs having a clothes crisis. Please will you go and help her?” Mor’s face took on a giddy expression as she squealed so loud it made him wince, and she was clapping her hands together excitedly.

“Oh, you know how much I love clothes! I’ll go get her into something comfortable. Are the two of you busy today? Can I take her shopping for proper maternity clothes? She might feel better about it then.”

“No we’re not busy, she might enjoy the day out.” And with that, the blonde was out of the door and rushing up the stairs. Azriel thought that now, he could go back to drinking his coffee peacefully, but then Cassian came in all moody and grumbling under his breath, banging the cupboard doors as he made his own drink. He knew why his brother was in a bad mood and had to force himself to keep his laughter at bay.

“Cass, we’re only going for my physiotherapy and so you can have the last of your stitches removed. Why are you being an idiot about it?” The other boy stood at the counter, his back to Azriel and he was staring out of the window, shoulders tense.

“I don’t want to go back there. I don’t like it there. I can barely stomach surprising Mom with lunch or dinner anymore.” Well, this was a little dramatic surely? It was always Cassian’s favourite thing when the three of them would go surprise her at work with a bag of goodies, knowing their stubborn mother wouldn’t have taken a break, too focused on her patients. It wasn’t a bad thing, of course it wasn’t, she just wanted to help but that wouldn’t be possible if she ran herself into the ground.

“It’s just the hospital Cass, we’ve been there a ridiculous amount of times.” He watched his brother freeze, mug half way to his mouth before he slammed it back onto the counter, the impact so hard he thought the mug might shatter. When Cassian turned, tears were threatening to spill over his cheeks and there was a fire in his eyes that he always got when he was upset or angry.

“Do you have any idea what it was like? You took all of the impact from the truck! You were the one lying on a fucking table losing blood! We could barely keep you conscious, Rhys and I. I had no idea what was going on while you were in surgery, Az, you could have fucking died!” His tears were falling now, a choked off sob tearing through his throat. Cass’ whole body was tense, little tremors shaking his shoulders as he struggled to keep the flood of emotions in check. “Ellie is pregnant, you’re going to have a little girl and you thought it was best to pull some shit like that, really?” Azriel couldn’t take it anymore, watching his brother spiral like that right in front of him and he forced himself to stand, walking over to stand in front of him. This close, he could hear the way Cass took in shaky breaths and sniffled, trying to stop himself from crying. Azriel thought he was finished but just as he opened his mouth to say something; his brother whispered words he thought would break him. “You are my brother and I love you. You’re meant to love me back. You can’t leave me Az, you can’t.” An indescribable sound left Azriel as he threw his arms around Cass, holding him tight, feeling the other boy bury his face in his shoulder. The body in his arm was trembling, breaking down without restraint. He pressed his cheek against Cassian’s, mouth next his ear to breathe his reply, loud enough to be heard amongst the hiccups.

“I love you too, of course I love you. I’m right here, I’ve got you Cass.”

“D-don’t you do that self sacrificing shit again, I will not raise your child for you.”

He hadn’t thought about it until now, really, pushing the crash into a small little box and then shoving that box to the back of his mind. The only priority he’d had in that split second before they were hit was keeping his brothers safe, protecting them with everything he had. Azriel had forgotten about Elain, the baby and everything else in that moment, which made him feel guilty now. Elain still had not spoken to him about that day, not really. He tried talking about it sometimes but she would shut him down, either saying she was fine or changing the subject completely, but now he realised. Realised why she was so terrified and upset when he’d woken in that hospital bed, realised why she had been angry with him afterwards. Fucking gods above, he was a damned fool. Time and time again since Azriel had found out about the baby he had promised he would always be by her side, he had promised he wouldn’t leave her, that she wouldn’t have to do any of it alone because he was right there.

If he had died, she would have been alone. His family and her sisters would have helped, would have stuck by her, he knew that but it wouldn’t have been him. Elain would have had to tell their daughter eventually why her daddy wasn’t there, why he wasn’t there to hold her when she cried, to do with her what all the other daddies did with their own children. Azriel did not regret what he had done because he would do it all over again to keep Rhys and Cass safe, to make sure they were okay. But Elain’s distance when the crash was mentioned, the way she held onto him tighter when they slept at night and the way she said ‘I love you’ more often and with so much more passion, it all made sense to him now. She, along with the others for just one moment, were forced to picture their futures without him being there.

Pulling back from his brother after the sobs had subsided, he watched Cassian quickly rub away the tears from his face, eyes red and a little puffy. Being forced to think about those events and the trauma that ensued, Azriel recalled a hazy memory- no not a memory but a dream. The images flicked past like the pages of a book, one after the other and he felt as though he was back there again; stuck in the horrible trick his mind had played on him.

He knew what he had to do, he knew what he had to tell Elain so that maybe they could finally start putting this behind them, leaving it in the past where it belonged.

He just hoped that this time she would listen to him.

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Again I’m sorry it’s short but this is what it looked like when I fixed it. The next one is a longer one!!

Tags: @empress-sei​ @elrielllll​  @stars-falling​ @cirieael @verifiefangirl​   @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn​ @lila-baard​  @acourtofterrasenandvelaris​ @silver-flames​ @queen-of-glass​  @bamchickawowow​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @sleeping-and-books​ @b00kworm​  @kvi-arts​  @tswaney17​ @awkward-avocado-s​  @courtofjurdan​ @junkiejosten10​ @mu-si-ca-l​ @agem10​ @harmonyindark245​ @slightly-sane-fangirl​ @tanaquilpriscilla​ @my-fan-side​ @whimsyrhys​  @starrynightsbooks​ @maastrash​​ @kendarbahr   @elriel4life​​ @illyriangarbage​​  @thewayshedreamed​​ @snowflakesandstarlight​​ @lacewilde​

[lin-dorie]

Cuties/Mignonnes, from the project to the meaning and international public interactions

OK Let’s talk about it. 

Let me tell you what Cuties is really about, the meaning behind it and what you need, as an international public, to understand it properly.

/!\ Spoilers needed. 

So Mignonnes/Cuties is French-Senegalese movie produced by Bien ou Bien Production in collaboration with Netflix for international distribution. Maimouna Doucouré is an award winning director, she’s french-senegalese, 35 years old, grew up with a dad and two mothers surround by a big religious family. Nothing wrong, just a little girl having thoughts and dreams like any others. 

Mignonnes, her very first long metrage, is based on a study she conducted for the project. She interviewed hundreds of young people with her team (pedopsychologist included) to collect a lot of infos and ressources to built a movie dealing with young people anxiety, sexual discovering, bullying, social media and young black people representation in movies. 

I. Story telling from someone who watched it.

Amy is 11 year old, she came in France with her mom and little brother. While hidden, she discovered that her dad is in Senegal and will soon come back with a second wife as it is authorized by Islam and accepted in Senegal. Her mom and aunt don’t tell her anything but she saw her mom crying about the topic, not knowing what’s happening, she ressents her dad and her condition as a refugee, the typical “it was better where we were before”. 

Her family is muslim, she wore a hijab to her religious ceremonies and practice like she was told to, without the opportunity to do otherwise. In her building there’s a girl, Angelica, she has a rebellious side in opposition to her workaholics parents and she dances hip-hop style which Amy has never saw. She befriend her and her circle of friends and decided to dance with them at a local championship. In order to learn the dance and prove to them she was “cool”, she stole her cousin’s phone, got herself instagram and started relooking herself as a young woman instead of the pre-teen girl style she got before.  But, she gets her periods. She’s afraid, she’s anxious, but most of all she doesn’t understand because nobody told her. Her aunt take care of her telling her “you’re an adult now” and how she wish she’ll live a beautiful life like they are. This is a problem as Amy doesn’t know what it is to be “an adult” nor does she know what it is to grow up, and the only roles model she has at home are her sad mom and her ultraconservative aunt. So she starts acting out, comparing herself to more developped girls, tries to be like them and starts mimicing them for their dances. While fighting for the phone she stoled with her cousin, she locks herself in the bathroom and posts an intimate photo of her on instagram as a last proof she’s a woman. Obviously, she’s getting bullied in school for that, her mom come, slap her across the cheek, call her names and ground her.  Amy became depressed and in her anxiety, tries to reach out for her friends who turned their back on her so they won’t be associated with her.  Nonetheless, she succeed into entering a championship with her former-friends and are disqualifies due to highly innapropriate behaviour on scene.  She go back quickly to her house during a panic attack, her mother comfort her telling her she doesn’t have to attend her father’s wedding if she doesn’t want to. Reassured, she skip the wedding and go play with kids her age. -END-

II. Producing and interpretation. 

DISCLAIMER : Self-made interpretations as someone who’s into thoughtfull movies. It may changes from one person to another. 

As sais before, it was produced by Bien ou Bien Production which a french production corporation based in Bordeaux. They are producing movies dealing with diversity, social issues, minority representation and religious debunking. They also produced Doucouré’s award winning short film “Mom(s)” that was dealing with the topic of polygamy in Senegal, and was based on her own life. 

Being produced by them again for her long metrage was a financial security and a very good deal. She got a France TV (public channels organisation) financial deal and scored that spot into Netflix international catalog making her one of the only black french-senegalese woman director into the international catalog. 

Obviously, as it is not a movie for children/teenagers, there’s few meanings behind the already well written script : 

Growing up without ressources : Amy is a stereotypical 11yo girl who doesn’t know anything about relationships, sexuality and woman body. It is well know that parents tends to have “the big talk” with their children when they are around 15-17yo, but puberty starts around 13yo and with that : sexual desire discovery, gender identity crises and body changes. Innocents idioms like “you’re a big girl now” or “you’re not a child anymore” shortenned childhood, leaving young girls without ressources to develop themselves and, often, shame to ask for answers.

Female representations and social media : We can’t criticize this movie without putting a context around it. Our society has been developped around certains standards, weither they are socials, professional, personnal... Social media and main stream TV promote a way of life that is unattainable for 90% of us but they give us the opportunity to act “as if”. In this movie, Amy is just like one of us except that she is way too young to understand the behaviour she is immitated. You can see it when she doesn’t understand why her friends are lying about their ages, when she’s pushing a girl into the water (possibly drowning the girl), when she cries on stage in front of those parents judging her... What Doucouré is trying to show us is that little girls are little girls, they aren’t tough enough to be shown anything just because it’s socially accepted. 

Children education :  To me, this is the main purpose of the film, showing that it is important to educate children. Predatory behaviour, public image, false advertisment, relationships... There is no “right time” to talk about it, and most of the parents are too late, the fact is protecting your children is also making them understand why this behaviour is dangerous, why this outfit is innapropriate and never blame your children for mistakes they can make. Amy is the exemple of what could happen if you don’t educate your children, and she is brave enough to rise when her my mom take a step toward her to comfort her. 

Religious family and sexual education :  As an atheist, I won’t talk about metaphors behind the prayers or anything, someone who believe in their God the same way her family does will be more adequate to talk about it. But it is one of the main critic and thus, I have to share facts : The movie isn’t centered around it, the only reason it is here is because they needed a traditional figure such as the aunt, they needed a strict environment such as a religious family and they needed a twist that would put the little girl into a negative feeling, they needed her to ressent her situation as a refugee in order to criticize how it is to grow up without help. So why Islam ? Well, in France, we have two main religions : Roman Catholics and Islam. Using Islam as the main religion of the film helped them showing the good sides of this religion such as love, family devotion and loyalty.  Added 22/08/20 : Islam has a lot of branches like any other religion. In Senegal most muslim practice Soufism, find differences between the way you practice and theirs mights come from that. Especially regarding the hijab, it’s common for young people to wear their hijabs only during ceremonies.

III. Streaming plateform and international public : 

If you’ve read all this, you know now that it isn’t about girls twerking or pedo porn normalization, in fact, until Amy came into the group, the girls are doing basic hip-hop dance (well, at least they try...). So how a movie mostly acclaimed by those who saw it can be the center of such a scandal ? 

Well, first let’s talk about culture appropriation.  As a 25yo white european woman I’ve had my share of culture appropriation story, did I mean anything bad when I did it ? No. Was I ignorant ? Yes. As everybody with a little bit of dignity I reflected on myself and stopped whatever the f*ck I was doing that was innapropriate as a white woman. That said, we can’t denied that the world has absorded some part of the black africans culture when it got popularized.

Twerking is actually a mixed between dances from African diasporas (especially Mapouka and Soukous from Ivory Coast and Congo), it is known nowadays a sensual hiphop dance and there is nothing wrong with doing it when you’re a grown up in your right mind doing whatever you want to do. So why using this dance in the movie ? First, it’s part of the heritage of Amy, a 11yo girl who hasn’t lived in a occidental culture before. Second, it is a way of telling you, public, that what you do has consequences. Suggestive dances on TV, sexualized hiphop dances in the streets, rated r music video available on YT... Adult contents are available anywhere, anywhen by anywho. Children included. It is what the director, who study the subject of the impact of oversexualized content on young girls, is trying to tell you through the film. 

Now, Netflix and the art of communication. Netflix has first released a trailer, a poster and a pitch that aren’t the one used to promote the film in the first place (France included). After the start of the backlash they released another set that are stil not the one used to begin with. Why ? Because Netflix is an industry, they aren’t cinema professionnals, they aren’t critics, they are a company like any others. They didn’t watch the film, didn’t understand it and didn’t advertize it as it should : A movie for adults who want to know what they could do to help the younger generations. 

Because a movie isn’t just for entertainment, there is no film just made to amuse you, everyone is trying to tell something thanks to their art. Yes, those same young girls who acted in the movie won’t be able to watch it because they are too young, not because it is inapropriate but because the subject is too thick for them to understand it fully at such a young age. The way Netflix handle the promotion of this movie was also bad because international public can’t resonnate with it the way we do. And I include myself because I was the age of Amy not long ago, in the same country she came to. Cinemas from every country is proper to this country, we have the chance to be able to watch films from other places made by people whom don’t speak our language, have their own religion or not at all and try to reach us with their own issues and traditions. 

I’m not saying this movie will be the best of this year, and I’m not saying that everything inside of it is perfect, what I’m trying to say is that it’s easier to agree with the majority than to forge your own opinion but if you take the time to watch you’ll be able to understand others and empathize with them. 

I hope it will help some of you understand the purpose of the film, that some will be kind enough to watch it before throwing their critics and that most of you will still enjoy movies for watch the director is trying to say instead of what the politics want you to see. 

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, SE02, Ep24

This is a buildup ep for the finale. looks like furuba’s tradition for awkward buildup eps continues as this ep is clearly divided into two parts: machi & zodiac banquet.

-Killing the Vibe (furuba style):

Usually when writers buildup an emotional moment, they either go with it right away or if it is not its time, they slowly dissolve it or gradually redirect the story somewhere else. But the most important thing is that you hold on to the feeling they worked so hard to build but know that it will be dealt with later. Usually this is done with minor visuals such as quick flashback to the main event & the character taking deep breath ignoring it. But it is acknowledged that now it is not the time. Furuba doesn’t do that. If they build high moment & decide it is not the time to continue with it, they drop it abruptly, using the ending ost as a closing sign....which is odd cuz this is not episodic eps but continuing plot. They did it twice now: (a) tohru’s nightmare ep 19. it was treated as cliffhanger, but the next, we opened with yuki’s narrative where we see tohru normal. I know tohru’s issues will be dealt with later, perhaps season 3. But the nightmare moment was left hanging weirdly!! we never saw tohru deciding not to focus on it or anything! then (b) the kyo/tohru moment on stage & the symbolic tearing image ep23. Big moment which I  know will be focused on later. But it is so freakin odd that we see them so normal in their daily activities..as if nothing happened. Not a slight visual hint that either one is troubled... I praised how in ep, 23, they showed tohru face worrying abt bits & pieces here & there. These visual hints connects the plot.. For a moment I thought Cinderella play is a filler!! but I don’t think so, since 3 major things happened (Tohru’s near confession, machi’s opinion of yuki, arisa’s recorded outburst) two of which dealt with this ep. I know they want the focus to be on yuki, seeing that his plotline is moving smoothly without awkward breaks, but why not smooth out the other’s plotline with minor visuals without the jarring jumps. Ending ost is not automatic shifts in continued plot. Oh well, it is a minor thing I felt, no big deal.

-Machi pov is here!:

I never expected to see machi today! nice surprise! So machi is not only lonely, she lives alone! that’s odd & tragic! how can a junior high school student live alone? since when was she living alone? & her mom calling to check on her or insult her or scold her! I never wanted a phone call to end this fast. Machi’s monologue was amazingly done. Rather than describing her feelings to us or stating what we are already seeing, the words came cold.. automatic.. slow.. without much emotions. Exactly imitating how machi feels abt herself. DULL. She never thought abt things such as fave color or fave place. never thought abt anything that requires personality or preferences. The imagery they used while she was walking in the street is epic! It explained her mentality! honestly even if she said nothing around that time while she was walking, the image would’ve done enough! Machi was able to see the change in yuki cuz she was able to sense that yuki too was dull/boring or felt he felt so. Now he laughs, jokes, interacts, & joins outside school activities. Negating the dull persona. Now, it is only her. machi questions if she can do the same but her question comes out loaded with her negativity. Instead of can I do the same? it is “ why Am i here? Her bad habits are pulling her back & resisting the change.

- Since they’re deciding to embark into the romantic aspect of mach/yuki & to further add contrast to his interaction with tohru, machi is shown so struck by yuki’s presence, she falls. Typical romantic moment that I appreciate for machi who thinks she isn’t typical girl. but dull girl. Yuki finding the leaf & being happy that she treasures it adds to his self-esteem as it tells him that he is worthy to be treasured. I love machi’s indecisive responses! It gives her personality! as she is reluctant between denying or telling the truth. She was never in such situation, so she doesn’t know what to do!! blushing red like her leaf, machi didn’t only go with friends, she also learned her fave color! yuki, developing the future boyfriend detective sense like kyo, guessed it that machi likes red. You remember things abt ppl you find interesting! Machi felt that perhaps to yuki she is not dull, but interesting enough to want to learn things abt her!

-Tohru is a grown woman!!!

trust me to take 5sec interaction that involves my girl & write a deep analytic paragraph! Call it building sandcastles out of nothing but I don’t care! XD. tohru deserves some spotlight! I’m a bit disappointed that the scene is shown form a far to include yuki & shiggure..(WHY???. They can have their moment later! let my girl have a screenshot for a change!!) & the art quality is the lowest in the ep, lol & but whatever~~~ let’s focus on the positive side! my tohru bought sth for herself!! tohru who spent her hard earned money on buying candy ingredients for the filthy rich sohma’s instead of paying her tuition fees?!! tohru who wore a worn out swimsuit for school & didn’t see the value in buying new one ?! tohru whose school bag have seen better days as hiro said?!! tohru bough herself a scarf with pompom!!& she’s PROUD!! & she goes & shows kyo!!!! cuz she loves him & cuz in SE01 he was mad she doesn't buy herself stuff & cuz she knows he’ll be proud of her & cuz she want show off her cuteness & get his attention & cuz she wanna tease him!! Did you see my girl deliberately hit him with the pompom??? my girl is feisty!! She teases!! Tohru has this feisty, forward personality that she hides but peeks in certain instances!! Like when she teased kyo that he’s still scared of the stain on the wall..like when she calls him cute later this ep!! I’m so happy for every tiny teeny moment of tohru where she is herself & not the worrying mom or friend, when she is focused abt what she shows & what she wants & right now she wants kyo to notice her! GIRL HE ALREADY DOES! you are killing him already tohru..he’d be dead by now if he wasn’t a cat with 9 souls! XD.

-Yuki is leaving Akito’s side:

coming to the big moment in this ep. Akito is loosing yuki. Not only yuki decided by himself to attend the banquet that he avoided last year, he also talked to akito & forgave him for everything before. Yuki is letting go of the past. Forgiveness is a cure ppl! it’s the hardest achieved cure. it cuts the ties to negativity & free the person from the painful feelings. Akito knows she’ll be loosing a zodiac member soon! she reacts the same way she did with hatori! violently resisting change, violently making a statement that I’m the ruler of you. However, unlike when it was hatori, no one came to her. Kureno stopped her. but the rest went to yuki, to the rebel, to the one who caused her pain & rage. Akito is not only loosing yuki...she is slowly loosing all of them.

- Yuki continues the next step in his growth & frees hatori from his sins. By allowing himself to accept that he is not a helpless victim, yuki was able to see the others plain as well. Before, in his mind, he was the only one suffering, others are cruel, but now, he sees the criminal who erased his friends memories was also suffering all along. Perhaps yuki thinks that akito is suffering too? That’s why chose to forgive her & tell her that I don’t hate you anymore or hold grudge.

Side Notes:

I’m so glad kakeru had so little to do with machi & yuki interaction here. He is a character that demands spotlight & if his role was bigger, machi would disappear, it will be another yuki/kakeru moment. Also, since machi/kakeru parallel aya/yuki, you bet kakeru will be more involved between them in order to get closer to his sister & fix the gap like aya did, so I appreciate the moment of only yuki/machi now as it is unique moment without any parallels involved.

After learning of Shigure’s correct line, I can now see how things would’ve been better for akito, if she learned from yuki’s rebellion. loosing one is less painful than loosing them all, which she will. Shigure was eager for her to be spared the pain. or he might be eager for sth else entirely! but he wants this to end.

Shigure sure wasn’t himself this ep! he was restless & his jokes were all over the place, he nearly caused a misunderstanding between hatori & Mayko. I think shigure is hearing the curse breaking!!!!!

Rin & kyo!!!! I never knew I needed this!!! like last ep, I was celebrating hana & kyo, & the return of kyo & haru!! but rin & kyo is unique duo since it is not a teasing dynamics! it is a we-are-too-similar dynamics! XD

Kazuma is luv!! ugh!! my heart! what a man!! so caring & kind & ever so gentle! look at him going to rin to invite her! no kid should be alone in new years! look at him teasing his son!! look at him out polite tohru! just look at him!!!

I appreciate that the boys (kyo,yuki.haru,momiji) have different body types from each other. however, since kyo’s body changing is mentioned in the story many times, they focused on showing him growing since the 2nd ep of season 2 & more so in the beach arc & they steadily continued ever since!!! this ep, even with the low quality they showed his Adam’s apple & he is taller next to shishio. Also his baggy clothes help defy the lanky art style. With yuki, since his beauty is mentioned in the story, they’ve been focused on his face, giving him HD quality beauty all the time, but not much when it comes to his body. but today, he looked a lil bit older in machi’s scene? I duno if it is the new clothes or they’re finally allowing his body to grow?! I hope so. They are still making him so lanky as his legs were only a bit meatier than machi’s in the fight scene, but hey lankiness is the show’s art style, just look at hatori </3. They focused on making Momiji baby as it is mentioned in the story that he doesn’t look like a highschooler at all, but I swear he looks a bit older this ep!! right???

Speaking of hatori, hello there~ doc~ I never knew I needed hatori in Japanese clothes this much! It hid the lankiness & gave him the adult manly look he deserves!! so hot!!! I heard his grunt in my heart as he took his clothes off! XD. Soyou’re attached to the school sensie now~~ a lit bit worried your filthy buddy is putting hands on her..huh? oh!, if only you knew that your goofy pal is the master mind behind your new love story! I think he knows tho~

I never expected machi to be that cute!!! machi/yuki is so cute!

Rin sleeps sitting...like a horse? rin didn’t feel haru? i thought horses are as jumpy as cats! lol

Tohru & kyo are having quality flirting time with no interference from either shigure or yuki. lol.. shishio is amazing! XD

Kureno has the DVD now..let the war begins!!!

[meterokinesis]

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 12,032

Fandom: Batfamily, DC Comics

Characters: Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul, Tam Fox, OFC, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Fasir Nasser

Pairings: Tim Drake & Ra’s al Ghul, Tim Drake & Tam Fox

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Chose not to use archive warnings

Tags: Canon divergence, Lazarus Pit, Lazarus Pit Madness, Evil!Tim Drake, Blood and Gore, Psychological Trauma, Survivor’s guilt, Unreliable narrator, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Post-Battle of the Cowl, Bruce is dead, Tim is not having a good time right now

Summary: When Tim Drake leaves to find Bruce, he doesn’t expect to get stabbed. He doesn’t expect to die. And he certainly doesn’t expect to be resurrected. However, the Tim who goes into the Lazarus Pit is not the same Tim who comes out. This Tim is ruthless and unguarded in a way he never was before. And when Ra's starts to take him under his wing... well, what's a disgraced Robin to do?

Author’s Note: This work is part of the Batfam Big Bang! (@batfam-big-bang) I couldn't have done this without my lovely betas, @bisexualoftheblade, @crystalinastar, and @houser-of-stories. There's also some amazing art for this fic that I’ll be posting soon!

Read it on AO3

The desert night was cool, with a breeze that shifted the sand beneath Tim’s feet like waves. The stars gleamed overhead, and for a second he was caught up in how clear the sky was. It had been years since he’d seen stars without a haze of light pollution around them.

Owens and Z were in front of him, his babysitters for the night. Pru was off to his left, fiddling with the safety on her gun. The ride here had been as light-hearted as was possible, given the circumstances, but that jovial tone had ended quickly. Their off-roader had died on them maybe half an hour before, and the small group was still huddled around the machine, waiting as Z checked the engine. Every few seconds, Pru glared at Tim, as if blaming him for the hold up. Though the others had made it very clear that this was a fool’s errand, Tim knew that Bruce was here, somewhere. He had to be, or Tim had thrown everything away for nothing.

That was the issue, wasn’t it? Tim might be the world’s greatest detective, now that Bruce was… out of commission. But his hunches could still be wrong. What if- no. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He would bring Bruce back, he had to.

“Hey, Drake, are you done brooding yet?” Pru’s voice echoed over the empty land. Tim huffed noncommittally and looked up to see the bald assassin twirling her gun on her finger.

“I’m a Bat. We’re never done brooding,” he quipped, before fiddling with the little radio receiver he had brought along. It didn’t do more than give off static when it was on, but having something to do with his hands helped.

Rolling her eyes, Pru gestured over to a precariously balanced pile of rocks. “Wanna see if I can hit the top one off without knocking over the others?”

Tim sighed heavily and dragged himself over to her, Owens trailing behind. Out of the corner of his eye, he even saw Z peek out from behind the hood to watch.

Squaring off, Pru brought up her gun and fired off a shot. To no one’s surprise, the top rock went flying and the others remained still, albeit with a slight wobble.

“Fuck yeah! Z, did you see…” She trailed off, her face blanching. Tim followed suit, only to be greeted with Z on the ground, chest bleeding in a way his medical training told him was too much. His brown eyes were already glassy, and his chest wasn’t moving anymore. It was then that the rest of the image came into focus, and Tim’s eyes finally latched onto the cloaked man holding two bloody swords.

“I am the Widower,” the man said, his voice low and bone-chilling. “And here I was, thinking you’d put up a fight.”

Tim drew his bo staff, eyes tracking Pru and Owens as they rushed toward the Widower, guns at the ready. He had barely taken a step, but they were already on the ground, Pru bleeding from a large gash in her neck and Owens trying in vain to keep pressure on the wound in between his ribs.

Quick--what were his weaknesses? No visible limps or injuries, no issues handling the weapons. He moved like a snake through grass, smooth and precise. The Widower’s blades gleamed in the moonlight, and Pru’s blood dripped onto the sand. Tim lashed out with his staff, catching one of the swords right as it flew toward his throat.

“I guess dead birdies tell no tales,” Widower whispered as he drove the second sword, the one Tim had forgotten about, into Tim’s stomach.

The vigilante staggered back, and fell to his knees, clutching his abdomen. The blade slid out and even through the gloves of his suit, Tim could feel his blood, warm and sticky. Was this how he was going to die? Mission incomplete, estranged from his family, bleeding out into the desert sand? He had never assumed he would survive in this job, but he’d at least thought he’d die as Robin. Oh god, he was never going to be Robin again.

The ground rushed up to greet him, sand in his mouth and eyes and hair. He supposed that it didn’t matter--it’s not like corpses care anyway. With his last ounces of strength, he rolled onto his back. Somewhere, some last shred of knowledge told him that this would keep him from bleeding out, but deep down he knew it was too late. Tim just wanted the stars to be the last thing he saw.

As darkness encroached on the corners of his vision, his mind drifted back to Bruce. This was it. The only father figure he’d ever had, or at least the only one who liked him as he was, would be doomed to never return. And it was all Tim’s fault.

The afterlife was dark. And cold. Tim had never been religious, aside from that year of Hebrew school his parents insisted he take in middle school, but even he knew that this wasn’t right. It took a second, but the cold and dark sharpened into something Tim knew well, his kitchen at home. Well, at Drake Manor.

The marble countertops gleamed, as did the floors, and Tim recalled tiptoeing around in his early childhood, so not to dirty them. The kitchen--really, the whole house--had always felt like a mausoleum. Cold, impersonable. Lonely. In some ways, a lot like Tim.

He drifted through the house, looking pointedly away from the family portrait that hung above the fireplace. It had been painted a few months before his mom was killed, right after he became Robin. They all looked so stiff, like actors playing a family in a movie. Actually, actors would probably do a better job than they did. That portrait had been the first thing Tim had put in storage when his dad died.

The curtains were drawn, letting in the gray sunlight Gotham was so well-known for. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his lawn, except… not. Gravestones dotted the otherwise pristine lawn, some new and some old and worn. He hesitated at the door, fingertips just brushing the doorknob. He was dead, it wasn’t like he could get hurt. Maybe this was some kind of purgatory that he had to deal with before he could move on. He pushed against the door, anticipating the old hitch in the hinges that had been around for years.

The air held the same chill as the house, pulling at Tim’s breath. Front and center, practically in the doorway, was Bruce’s grave, the one they’d buried him in just over a month ago. But now the death date was scratched out, in its place a sticker like the ones Tim used to put on his skateboard. It read: Eternally Damned To Disappointment. It’d sound like the name of a band Tim might’ve listened to, if he didn’t know that the disappointment was in him.

The next grave was older, cracked and crumbly. The ground in front of it was disturbed, and dried blood streaks marked the bottom of the headstone. Here lies Jason Todd. Well, that didn’t last long. And unlike Jason, Tim knew he wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t that lucky.

Next was Steph, or at least the grave she pretended to fill. It was covered in flowers, some of them bouquets Tim had left himself. Tim had spent hours in front of it, telling her how much he missed her and loved her, praying for the first and last times. When she came back… well, they were more distant than he would’ve liked. That wasn’t Steph’s fault, at least not entirely, but it did make him wonder. What if he never took back the mantle? Would this have been easier? He could’ve been a semi-normal teenager, living with his dad and stepmom, mourning his girlfriend and being blissfully unaware of the shitshow that was heroism. But he wouldn’t have been happy.

And speak of the devil, there’s his parents’ graves, right next to each other. It was almost funny how they were closer in death than in life. A boomerang was lodged in his father’s gravestone, with an old flip phone opened at the base. It listed Tim’s number as the last call. His mother’s had a sticky substance that a voice deep inside Tim told him not to touch. He lingered at these graves for a moment, breath caught in his throat. It’s not that he didn’t miss his parents--he did. But he had only known a piece of them, only just deeper than surface level. They weren’t parents as much as guardians with high expectations. And for the most part, he had met or exceeded every goal they gave him. But it never was enough. There was always another class to ace or language to learn or party to schmooze at. Worst of all, they were cold. If Tim was the chill night air, his parents were Antarctica.

The next grave stopped him in his tracks. Bart. One of his best friends, his ally in all things. Gone, but not in the way Bruce or Steph were. Bart wasn’t coming back. There would be no more Hawaiian pizza and donuts shared over a comic book, or sleepovers on the floor of Mount Justice. No more Wendy the Werewolf Stalker Marathons. There was no more Bart, and it stung in a way that Tim didn’t have a name for.

He turned around, expecting that to be the end of it, but there it was. Conner. All at once, the weight of the world fell on Tim’s shoulders, like his own personal Kryptonite. His best friend, someone he had been more than a little in love with once upon a time. He knew Conner was safe now, alive and saving people once again. Without Tim. Conner’s death had been the one that broke him, more than any of the others. Because if Conner Kent, Superboy and heartbreaker extraordinaire, hadn’t made it, what chance did Tim have? Well, obviously not much. How was Conner going to take this? He wasn’t like Tim, this was the first time he’d be alone.

Aren’t you tired of losing the ones you love? Aren’t you tired of being the one left behind? A quiet voice murmured in the back of his skull.

Yes. No. Yes. A sob tore from Tim’s chest, and his hand flew to his mouth. This was so stupid. He had dealt with loss before. Hell, the past year had been one unending funeral. Of course he was tired, who wouldn’t be?

This had to be Hell, but that felt like even more of a betrayal. Even Jason had made it to Heaven. Was this his punishment for toeing the line? Had he not suffered enough? Biting back another sob, Tim ran blindly toward the door, slamming it shut behind him in a way that would’ve made his mother shriek. When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t in his living room anymore, but the Batcave. Even with his eyes full of tears, he would know it anywhere. And there was Dick in the Batsuit. And the demon in his Robin gear. Tim opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Dick looked up, expression weary.

“Tim, I already told you. Bruce isn’t coming back. I’m Batman now, and that means I get to choose the Robin. It’s about time you accept that.” It sure sounded like Dick. “Besides, it’s not like you were doing a great job anyway. You let Batman be killed on the job.” Damian sneered, leaning against Dick’s chair like a bully in a high school rom com.

“That-That’s not my fault!” Tim cried, heart pounding in his ears.

“Look, there’s an heir and a spare. There’s a new Robin now, you can be whatever you’re calling yourself now. Go do whatever you have to on this suicide mission, but leave Gotham out of it.”

Damian smiled like a demonic cherub. “Yes, Drake. Not even Grayson wants you anymore, if he ever did.”

Tim stood in shocked silence, unable to find words. Sure, Dick was focused on Damian, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care anymore. After all, they were brothers, right?

He’s taken the only thing you had left. Don’t you want revenge? He took your mantle, you should take it back. The voice sounded like Tim, but contorted--like it would on a recording.

Tim--no, not Tim, something else--reached back for the bo staff. As his hand gripped the metal, something flew toward him, hitting him directly in the stomach where he had been stabbed. It clattered to the floor, and through his pain, Tim realized it was a Batarang.

Don’t you want more, Timothy Drake-Wayne? It coaxed.

Yes.

The new Timothy Drake-Wayne took his first breaths in a cave deep in the Iraqi desert, hundreds of miles away from the house and the graves that had haunted his dream. It was cold here, nearly as cold as that dream had been. If he was in Hell, it would be hotter, wouldn’t it?

Tim swallowed hard and pushed himself up. His stomach, where he was pretty sure he had just been stabbed, was free of wounds or scarring. If anything, he felt stronger than he had before. As his feet touched the stone cold floor, he took note of the ninjas scattered around the room. Okay, so he was back at the League. They must have… The prior strength he had felt disappeared as his legs gave out. Normally he would have rolled or caught himself or something, but his gaze was fixed on the other side of the room, where a glowing green pit resided.

Oh, no.

No weapons, outnumbered, barely able to stand. The disadvantages stacked up before his eyes, screaming that there was no hope of him getting out of this one. Not to mention that he was probably already on his way to insanity. Fuck, the last time he’d seen Jason, the former Robin had almost killed him. Would Tim end up like that, homicidal and cruel?

He struggled to his feet, clutching the stone table for support. He could take out two, maybe three, if he just stopped thinking. He was trained for this, he could--

“Hello there, Detective,” a cold voice purred, quiet but deafening in the silent room. A chill hovered under Tim’s skin. It had been a long time since he’d last heard that voice. Detective? Isn’t that what he calls your mentor? There was the voice again, the only remaining fragment of the dream.

Ra’s al Ghul was one of those people who intimidated you just by existing in the same space. He reminded Tim of every strict teacher and cruel board member and snotty dinner party guest all rolled up into one. Oh, and he was the leader of the world’s largest assassin guild. That was important too.

“Did you find what you were looking for, Timothy?” Ra’s said in the same tone.

The teenager opened his mouth, then closed it again, searching for words. “No,” he managed to force out. “No, I didn’t.”

Are you sure?

Ra’s smiled, like a predator that had just gone for the killing blow. “Well, I suppose that you will have more than enough time to complete your quest during your stay with us.” And just like that, he turned, a group of ninjas peeling off to escort him back to whatever pit of Hell he’d crawled from. “If you need anything, ask for the White Ghost. Welcome to the Cradle, Detective.” And just like that, he was gone.

Tim was only alone with his thoughts for a minute before a tall man with alabaster skin and medieval-style chainmail entered the cavern.

Okay, so this was the White Ghost impersonator. The League wouldn’t kill someone they’d just resurrected, so maybe once he was alone he could escape? Go back to Gotham and see Dick and Sebastian and Zoanne one last time before he truly went insane, then start going to that therapist Dick recommended. He could make it through this, he wouldn’t end up like Jason--

And then in walked Tam Fox, looking terrified but for the most part unharmed. And all of Tim’s plans came crashing down.

Tam was a civilian, and a Wayne Enterprises employee to boot. Her life, and his identity, were in danger now. He was both her only savior and her greatest danger. New plan: listen to this knockoff White Ghost, do whatever it takes to gain their trust, then make it out with Tam at the first possible chance. And do it all without going off the deep end.

Easy. Not.

“I am the White Ghost,” the shitty cosplayer said, his chainmail clinking as he moved.

“Isn’t he dead?” Tim murmured under his breath. He’d definitely seen Dusan die. But if Tim was still alive, then maybe…

“There has always been a White Ghost,” the older man responded, as if that answered anything. “Now, it is time you and your guest retired to your quarters.”

Tam looked over at Tim, big brown eyes wide with fear. He nodded once, tried to conjure a press conference smile, and allowed them to be led to lavish bedchambers. They looked like beautiful, windowless prisons.

The next few weeks blended into their own lethal monotony. Tam stayed in her room all day and Tim went to meetings with various members of the League’s regime. It was a little like working at Drake Industries or Wayne Enterprises, just with more murder. A lot more murder. But the meetings were easy enough, and Tim soon found himself getting to know the people he once despised. He didn’t like them by any means, but he wasn’t terrified anymore.

He kept looking for Bruce. The desert gave no answers.

Tam didn’t ask questions. She didn’t push too hard. She had to know everyone’s identities by now, didn’t she? Tim was just one Robin-shaped piece of the puzzle. Here he was, in the desert, yet another failed Robin. His whole tenure, he’d been trying to live up to Jason Todd, and now in a sick way he had. Wearing Jason’s uniform, having been resurrected the same way, he now dreaded catching up to the boy who had once been his hero.

On nights when he cried silently into the silk sheets, trying to forget the way Jason had looked when he first came back to Gotham, the voice soothed: You can be greater than he ever was. You can outshine all of the others. You will be remembered when they are dust.

The desert was cold. There was no comfort here.

His bedchamber was nice enough. There was a large bed with silk sheets and gold accents and an ensuite bathroom. A large mirror took up the space where a window might have once been, like some sort of philosophical conundrum that Tim was too tired to try to unpack. There was a small passageway between his room and Tam’s, and if Tim was just a little more naive he would have believed that the League forgot about it when they placed him in this room. But he knew better. The League never forgot a thing.

Sometimes Tim caught himself in the mirror and for a second he swore his blue eyes looked green. Tam came in the next morning to glass littering the floor and cuts covering Tim’s hands. She said nothing while she helped him wrap up his knuckles.

Tim had always been adaptable. It’s easier than the constant push and shove of rebellion. When his parents told him to take those classes and join these clubs, he did. When he was instructed to give impromptu speeches at galas, he did. He put in the effort, he always had. He was never the best fighter and never would be, but he was smart and quick and brave. That had to mean something, right?

Maybe that’s why Ra’s al Ghul liked him so much.

The first time Ra’s al Ghul asked for a private meeting with Tim, the ground seemed to tilt under him. The well-trained vigilante tried not to show the fear in his eyes as his vision blurred and his heart thundered in his chest. But he went, because one did not say no to the Demon’s Head.

“Detective,” Ra’s began as he sat down at a large, stately desk that seemed out of place in the rest of the Cradle. The voices--he had taken to calling them whispers--that had been clogging Tim’s thoughts preened at the nickname, ignoring its former bearer.

“Tell me what you know about my grandson,” the assassin drawled, his fingers tapping on the desk rhythmically.

“Don’t you have spies for that?” Tim responded, not quite a retort but not an innocent question either. He’d seen enough of the League’s intel that it was clear how much they truly knew about the world outside the Cradle.

“Yes, but I’d prefer to hear it from someone… familiar with him. My eyes can only do so much from afar.”

Tim had no doubt that Ra’s knew everything about Damian: from the route he took to school to the cereal he ate for breakfast to how many times he pet Titus when he got home from school.

“He’s a brat.” Tim’s chagrin even took him by surprise, like it wasn’t really him talking. “He’s rude and inconsistent and incredibly immature. He’s aggressive and undisciplined. A sorry excuse for a Robin.”

And there it was, the green monster of jealousy rearing its head again. Yes, Damian had taken Robin from him unfairly, and yes, he was all of those things. But why did Ra’s care?

“I see. Would you describe him as a leader?”

“No. If anything, he’s a bully and a mama’s boy. Leaders need to be able to listen to others.” Where was he getting this? Damian was a kid, he could learn. He still had time.

“Interesting.” Ra’s rose from his chair and paced the edge of the room. Tim refused to look back and follow his movements. That would be a show of weakness, a drop of blood in a shark tank. “Detective, what do you have in Gotham? What do you have there that keeps you from dedicating yourself to your cause?”

Nothing.

Tim stifled a gasp as he thought of the instant response. Dick and Damian didn’t need him. Stephanie hadn’t called in months, even before Bruce died. Jason had tried to kill him, last they’d spoken. The Teen Titans were getting along just fine without him. Truthfully, the whispers were right. There was nothing left for him in Gotham. If there was, he would have stayed.

“Nothing.” The anymore went unsaid.

“Then I may have a proposal for you.” Ra’s eyes glowed a dangerous green. A pit formed in Tim’s stomach, as the last few vestiges of him that hadn’t sided with the voices screamed at him to just escape.

“Oh?” Tim responded, mouth bone-dry.

“Stay.”

And Tim’s world crumpled.

“Learn under my agents. Train to become better than you are. Continue your quest with my resources behind you. All you have to do is stay and work for me,” Ra’s smiled like a hunter who had just shot big game.

This was a terrible idea. Tim didn’t kill people, he refused. He was supposed to help people, not hurt them. But he couldn’t deny that feeling like he belonged again was incredibly enticing.

Tim opened his mouth, but Ra’s cut him off. “Your friend will not be harmed. I won’t even think about putting you on an assignment until you’re up to par with my best ninjas. I will not make this offer again.”

The voice that responded was not Tim’s own.

“Yes.”

Tim thought that six months of training with Bruce was brutal. Ha hadn’t known brutal until now.

His first day of training, he showed up in his Red Robin suit, now patched and reinforced where he had been stabbed.

The tall ninja that seemed to be in charge scoffed, then sent him away. Not fifteen minutes later, a tailor descended on Tim’s quarters with a tape measure and a face made of solid stone.

“Can’t have you looking like a target, all in red. What was Batman thinking?”

Maybe he wants them to be targets, Tim and the whispers thought in tandem. He balked at the thought, but the tailor’s firm hands kept him in place. What was he doing? Bruce had loved him, did love him. He had taken care of Tim when no one else would. Bile crawled through the back of Tim’s throat, but he swallowed it down.

The tailor finished her measurements and scanned Tim up and down.

“It will have to be black, of course. Reinforced joints, kevlar, the whole nine yards,” she stated in a lilting accent. “Maybe some green accents, dark ones. Classy. Half-mask, no more cowls or dominos.”

Red, yellow, and black were his colors and had been for years. A tribute to a boy he loved and lost then loved some more. But Conner was back now. And Tim was tired of mourning, especially when no one was dead. Well, except him.

“Green,” he agreed, swallowing thickly. He wasn’t Red Robin anymore, not really. And he could always wear the suit again. This wasn’t a finale, just a hiatus.

She nodded once and then swept away, leaving a teenager clutching the last thing he had of his old life. Tim folded the suit, the way Alfred had always chastised him for, and gingerly placed it in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. He wouldn’t need it anytime soon.

The next day, a precisely wrapped package sat outside Tim’s door bearing no signature. He knew exactly what it was.

Upon peeling back the paper, he saw the full glory of the new suit. It was midnight black, with dark green stitches that were beautiful up close, but would be near-invisible from far away. It looked like a cross between the ninjas’ garb and body armor--sleek and sure of itself. A hood was attached to the back of the neck, with the green stitching spelling out something Tim couldn’t discern. A half-mask with built in air filters covered the rest of the face. As he patted the suit down, he felt where all the separate compartments were for weapons and utilities. It reminded him a little of the costumes from high-tech spy movies.

Sitting on the floor with his new suit in his lap, Tim added another item to the long lists of debts he owed Ra’s al Ghul.

His first real day of training, Tim was beaten so badly he could hardly drag himself to his room.

It wasn’t that they had intended to hurt him, but he had gone almost a month without training. Bruises laced up his cheekbone like their own little domino mask, a little memento of times gone by. His joints screamed out in pain as he collapsed onto his bed. At least he hadn’t broken any bones. Or been stabbed. Or died.

Tim only had a few minutes to contemplate the stuntman funniest fails video that was his life when a gentle knock came from the door.

“Come in,” he groaned, flopping over onto his side so he could see his company. His mother would have scolded him for not standing up to greet a guest, but she didn’t have much sway from six feet under.

A girl with olive-tan skin and a brunette bun stepped into the threshold, her smile the gentlest thing he’d seen in a long time.

“Hello, my name is Aminta. I figured you could use some help with your wounds.” Her voice was lower than he expected, but pretty nonetheless. A dark, untraceable accent threaded through her words.

He peered up at her, frowning.

“Is this a hazing thing? Am I being hazed?”

She chuckled, then sat on the ottoman at the edge of his bed.

“Not hazing. The new recruits tend to help each other through the first few months. Safety in numbers and all that. I thought you might want some assistance.”

“So, you’re all friends?” That didn’t sound right.

“No,” she hesitated for a moment, “not exactly. Friends is too... common. We are assassins, but we have honor. When we need to, we take care of our own.”

Ah, so he was one of them now. For some indescribable reason, that didn’t fill him with as much dread as he thought it would.

You have no friends. You never did. Just those who you will rule and those who you will crush, the whispers added.

Tim smiled, the shy grin he used when he wanted teachers and Wayne Enterprises board members to underestimate him.

“Thank you, Aminta. I’d appreciate that. My name is Tim.”

She winked at him, clearly a joke.

“Believe me, I know.”

The League had a mole.

Or at least, they were going to. Tim had known enough corrupt businessmen in his time in Gotham’s upper echelon that he was well versed in the signs of someone double-dipping. At first it was little things: missing pieces of inventory, strange new guard shifts, incorrect mission intel. By the time it escalated to money being skimmed off the top of jobs, Ra’s was furious.

When he called Tim in for a meeting, something that was becoming increasingly normal these days, Tim was expecting fiery rage. Instead, there was steel-sharp cunning. It was a little like looking in a funhouse mirror.

“Detective, it appears that we have a liability in our ranks,” Ra’s began, his fingertips caressing a blade. “I assume you’ve read the data I sent to your quarters, and I’d like your thoughts.”

Tim cleared his throat. He had spent the night before reading the reports, putting together the pieces. If this was a test, it was a wicked one.

“The incidents began shortly after the attacks by the Widower. It’s a piece of misdirection intended to frame either Pru or I as a mole. However, neither of us has any reason for betrayal. Pru is, and has always been, loyal to the League. And you are well aware that I have nothing left for me in Gotham, nor would I be stupid enough to allow myself to get caught.” His voice was smooth, the prince of Gotham giving yet another speech.

“There is someone who has means, motive, and opportunity. After reading your files, it is incredibly clear. He has a family of his own that he is loyal to, and during my resurrection, he was not in the Cradle. His computer prowess would allow him to mess with the system in a way few others could. It would have been a very clean job, if he had spread it out over months or years instead of a few weeks.”

Ra’s stroked his goatee.

“You mean the Expediter.”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” Ra’s rose from the desk and clasped his hands behind his back. “Now that we’ve established the perpetrator, it is time to establish the punishment.”

Ah, so here was the test. Ra’s wanted to see how ruthless Tim could be. It was a very good thing that Tim never failed an exam.

“Kill him. It will send a message to our other agents and whoever he worked for that we are not to be trifled with.” Tim’s hands shook, but his voice was full of conviction. He had always been a good actor, but it wasn’t clear how much was truth now.

“And his daughters?”

“Bring them to the Cradle. They’re young enough that they likely won’t remember him, and we’ll be able to shape their childhood. Perhaps one will become just as intelligent as her father, and wiser as well.” The whispers hissed wordlessly in disappointment, but it was worth it. Tim refused to order the execution of a child, no matter how loud the shrieking in his skull became.

There was a beat of dead silence, then Ra’s nodded sagely.

“Wise choice, Detective. I’ll put those orders into effect at once.” He smiled, his teeth gleaming as his dagger had. “I’m looking forward to the rest of our partnership.”

Oh, how the whispers laughed.

Life in the Cradle was, well, nice. Tim was training harder than he ever had, under much more strenuous conditions, yet he felt better than he ever had. He was stronger, for one thing, but for the first time since he’d discovered Batman and Robin’s identities, he was able to rest. He didn’t need to be up until dawn chasing people across rooftops or finishing reports or writing an essay for English class because he’d been too busy on patrol. Even in a den of killers, Tim felt almost safe.

That said, he refused to let his guard down. He’d sat in on meetings with the inner circle of the Cradle for months now, trying to use his famous brain for something important. Which for his purposes, meant destroying the League as best as possible.

That was the only reason he’d stayed, or at least that’s what he told himself during nights where he twisted and turned trying to justify his choices. He’d exploit the League’s generosity to train himself and find Bruce, then take it down. Bruce would have to be proud of him after that, they all would. Maybe he’d even be Robin again.

He’d already taken out the Expediter, Ra’s’ guy in the chair. The guy confessed to the mistake of having a family and trying to work for the League at the same time. Good thing Tim didn’t have to worry about that anymore.

This is good, but it is not enough. You crave more. Do not be a coward, take it.

Now Tim was the techie for an international assassin guild, which would look moderately impressive on a college resume. Maybe it could count as an internship. Ra’s seemed like the guy who would make a relatively okay reference when Harvard came calling.

It always felt strange when he had lunch with Ra’s. It was eerily similar to the fancy lunches his mom used to drag him to, or the etiquette classes he was forced to take where he learned how to properly use a melon baller. Of course, it wasn’t like he was going to be killed for using a melon baller wrong then. Now, he knew that any wrong move could result in death.

Not his own death, of course. There was no point in Ra’s bringing back Tim, just to kill him again. Tam, however, was expendable. And that made the marrow in Tim’s bones shiver.

This particular lunch was more focused on memory lane than shop talk.

“So, Detective, tell me: what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Tim swallowed hard around his tea sandwich, his throat suddenly painfully dry.

“When I was little, I wanted to be a clown. Not a great career path in Gotham,” he began, attempting to keep his voice light. Ra’s looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Then, I wanted to be a photographer. Then, my father said I would be a CEO or I’d be disowned, so I wanted to be a CEO. I could always do photography on the side, you know?

“And then I became Robin.” He let the weight of that sentence sink over the pair.

“So? What happened after that?”

Tim resisted the urge to stare at his sandwich, instead choosing to meet Ra’s’ bright green eyes.

“Then, I stopped thinking I would grow up.” There it was, the thing everyone had been trying to pry out of him for years.

“I mean, Dick barely made it out. Jason died, came back, went crazy, and now murders people for shits and giggles. Stephanie died, but only kinda. Damian’s got a stubborn streak a mile wide. In the wild, robins live for a year, maybe two if they’re lucky. I don’t think anyone realized how similar we all are to those stupid birds.” Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes, but he didn’t need to cry. All that pain was gone now, replaced by something else. He couldn’t name it, but it kept all the sadness away.

Tim had been sad for his whole life. It was a relief when the roiling ocean inside him froze over. Numbness was an improvement.

Ra’s leaned across the table, his face barely a foot from Tim’s.

“You know, Detective, you remind me of myself. Not when I was young, of course, but when I had just begun to build my empire. All your life you have been told to quiet down and listen instead of speaking. You’re a fine leader because of it. You adapt when others are stubborn. You make plans while they push through without a second thought. You are a snake lying in wait, anticipating the right time to strike. I admire that.”

The air hung in silence as Ra’s stared directly into Tim’s soul.

“You know,” Ra’s finally said, “I think you could be truly great one day.”

Tim barely breathed as he nodded his thanks. When Ra’s finally leaned away, his first breath felt like the first gasp of air from a drowning victim.

“Before our lunch concludes, and I do so enjoy our lunches, I have a query for you.” This wasn’t out of the ordinary, Ra’s liked to give him riddles to keep him on his toes. “Some of our ninjas, though I will not say who, have gone rogue. A year or so ago, they got themselves caught up in some nasty business. My current intel places them here, in this compound, where they’re using innocents as collateral, should they not get what they request.”

“What do they want?”

“My head on a platter.” Ra’s’ smile was bloodchilling. “Oh, Detective? I feel it’s important to note: international news stations are currently reporting you and Ms. Fox as having been kidnapped by these rogues. Any advice on how to fix that?”

So this was the second test. Another chance to prove his loyalty. Let Ra’s’ enemies go free, or kill them and forfeit his old life for good in return.

“I assume extraction is not possible?”

“I’m afraid that those deserters are incredibly well trained. The special units from any nation’s army wouldn’t even make it into the compound. My ninjas could make it in, but there’s no way they could take out the traitors and save the civilians.”

Tim nodded, pretending to contemplate. He already knew his answer.

“Bomb the compound, kill everyone inside. It’s better to cut off the rot now than give it the chance to spread.”

Ra’s did not smile, but his eyes glimmered with pride.

“My thoughts exactly, Detective.”

And just like that, the death warrant was signed.

Tam was waiting in his chambers when Tim got home from a long day of training, his body littered in bruises and cuts that would sting tomorrow. Her crossed arms functioned as a hug, like she was the only thing keeping herself together.

“Tim,” she whispered when he came into view, the word like a prayer.

He glided across the room wordlessly, and she wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“I managed to get someone to sneak me a newspaper. Th-They think we’re dead, Tim,” she said into his shoulder, words slightly muffled by the fabric.

His hand came up to stroke her hair, the way he used to comfort Cass after a particularly long day. Tim didn’t respond, and instead let her tears soak into his shirt.

Good. Now you have the element of surprise.

The Council of Spiders had a worthy namesake, as they were just as quick and deadly as any arachnid. Somehow they had crept past the League’s defenses, disabling the ninjas that got in their way. True to form, the assassins’ deaths were just as silent as they were--shadows fading out as dusk began to form.

Tim was preparing for another day of strategy and mind games when Aminta burst into the room.

“The Spiders are here. They managed to sneak in--no one knows how. You’re needed,” she gasped, as if she’d ran a marathon to deliver this message. Judging from her state of disarray, maybe she had.

“Tam?”

“I’ll protect her. Go!”

Tim didn’t have time to question these motives or worry about much more than tugging on his cowl and pulling out his bo staff. He sprinted out the door and into the madness, moving in a dangerous dance with the assassins he had trained alongside for the past few months. The League was good, great even. But with the element of surprise, the Spiders were better.

He couldn’t afford to think about what could happen if they lost. Failure was not an option, not anymore.

A shadow glided toward one of the empty hallways and away from the rest of the frenzy, a sword glinting in its hand. Something that had dug its claws deep in Tim’s bones pulled him toward the figure, urging him to follow. To finish the job.

If others saw red when enraged, Tim saw green.

The figure purposefully stalked toward the large office Tim had started to spend increasing amounts of time in. The footsteps were near-silent, but in his mind they echoed almost deafeningly loud.

The shadow had to know he was there. It had to. Tim was good, but a few months of training could never rival lifetimes.

The shadow glanced over its shoulder, a feline-esque smile on its face. It said something, probably a witty yet scathing remark, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of whispers in Tim’s mind.

Do it.

Finish the job.

Show them who you are, who you can be.

Prove yourself.

You are not a bird, you are not a bat.

You are a demon, and you do not know weakness.

Not a Robin, not Red.

You are Green, Green, Green.

Become who you were always destined to be, Detective.

Tim struck out with his bo staff, right into the shadow’s skull. It faltered, just for a millisecond, and that creature that was both Tim and not lashed out, quicker than it had any right to be. A dagger in his hand, sharpened to a razor-thin edge. He did not remember doing that. That same dagger, buried into deep tan flesh.

Then he was across the room, bones aching from being thrown into the stone wall. If he was still human, still able to rein in whatever was drowning out his senses, he would know to expect pain tomorrow. But he didn’t, and all he felt was the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

And he was up again, throwing himself at the shadow with the conviction of a greek hero who knew that this fight would be his last. A fist full of rings connected with his cheek, and he could feel the skin tear beneath the metal. Maybe it would even scar.

The shadow leaned heavily to one side, though whether it was from the stab placed between its ribs or a prior injury, Tim didn’t know. It lurched toward him, and he stabbed it again, this time twisting the dagger until he felt the give of a lung. The shadow was down now, and deep down Tim knew that he never should have beaten it, never should have landed a single blow. In a logical world, Tim would have lost ten times over. But in a logical world, Tim would have been dead for the past six months.

As if time was in slow motion but he was at normal speed, Tim glided through the seconds, pushing pressure points with the tip of his blade. The shadow’s sword lay across the hall, too far out of reach for retaliation. This wasn’t torture, but it was revenge--for pain and sacrifice and nights spent clawing at his own skin, wishing it still felt like his. Payback for months of sins he never would have committed, for the green that clouded his vision. But most of all, it was a promise.

After minutes that held years of heartwrenching pain, Tim delivered the killing blow, straight under the shadow’s chin and into its brain. He was covered in blood, tacky and rust-toned, but where a past Tim--a lesser Tim--would have balked or vomited at the sight, this Tim stood, cleaned off his blade, and hefted the cooling corpse onto his shoulder.

They can try to revive it with the Lazarus Pit. You cannot allow that to happen. You cannot fail, the whispers urged, but he no longer needed them. They were him and he was them. Green in every breath and thought.

Tim escaped into the desert and finished the job, just as he had always been taught to do. Ra’s would have been proud. Bruce would have been proud.

That night, after the Spiders had been exterminated and the mess cleaned up, Tim sat at the foot of his bed, staring at his hands. The ninjas had looked at him with what could be called pride when he staggered back into the fray, his face bruised and bloody and sporting a wound on his thigh. His silky clothes brushed past the injuries every few seconds, but he couldn’t muster the energy to wince, even though he knew he should.

Tam had managed to hide during the clash, and Aminta had kept her promise. Tim liked people who followed through.

After being given the all clear, he stumbled back to his room to wash out his wounds and scrub the smell of smoke off his skin.

He had only just changed into his silky clothes when a knock came at the door. Without waiting for a response, the White Ghost was in Tim’s room, staring down at the teenager with an unnameable expression on his face.

“Timothy Drake,” the man said by way of greeting.

Tim glanced at him and blinked owlishly, but did not respond.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

This gripped Tim’s attention, and he finally made eye contact with the assassin, his brow creasing in concern.

“You’re going to revive him, right? He told me that you have more Lazarus Pits near here, he can use one of those. How did he die?” A million scenarios raced through Tim’s head, films of the death of the Demon.

“They burned him on a pyre and left him in his study. No trace of cause of death, and we can’t revive him. Any DNA has been destroyed.”

Tim stared blankly, processing. The Demon’s Head, the invincible Ra’s al Ghul, was dead. Gone forever.

“Ra’s made plans, should he die,” the White Ghost continued. “Those plans include a new leader of the League of Shadows. And that leader is you.”

Tim sputtered, “What? You can’t be serious. I’m seventeen years old. Why not you? Or Talia or Nyssa? Or Damian?”

“I do not make light of these things. He said you, so it is you. I am the White ghost. He had not contacted his daughters in years, and his grandson is too unpredictable to be suited to the position. You are the Demon’s Head, Timothy Drake.”

Tim stared back numbly. He was the Demon’s Head. The Cradle was his, these assassins were his, the world was his. He wanted power, and now it had fallen into his lap. The White Ghost kneeled before him and bowed his head. “I will serve you, Timothy Drake, in whatever way you see fit. I will be your eyes and ears and hands. I will obey you and carry out your orders. I pledge my allegiance to you, and only to you.” Satisfied with his vow, he rose to his full height.

Tim swallowed hard, then looked back up. “I accept your vow and thank you for your loyalty.” Then, “When… When will the rest know?”

“Tomorrow, at noon. I thought it might be best for everyone to rest, and for you to know first. We can discuss further details tomorrow morning, but for now, know who you are.”

Tim nodded stiffly and pushed himself to his feet, straightening his spine the way his mother had taught him to. He had been raised to become a prince of Gotham, one of the pretty boys that graced magazine covers and made headlines at charity events. Now, he was a king of assassins, an emperor of the underworld. If only she could see him now. Maybe she’d even be proud of him, for once.

“Thank you, White Ghost. We will speak again tomorrow. Should there be any issues during the night, I would like for you to inform me immediately.” He may be clad in silk pyjamas, but there was leadership in every fiber of his being. The whispers hissed in agreement.

“Fadir Nasser. My name is Fadir Nasser. Long live the Demon’s Head,” the White Ghost--Fadir--said as he left the room, the last remark stinging with a hint of a joke.

The door locked shut behind him, and Tim flopped backward onto the bed, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His gaze fell to the closet, where his suit was stuffed in the corner, smelling of smoke and burning flesh and the irony tang of blood. The whispers quickly supplied a description of the events, but Tim could picture them clear as day--carrying Ra’s to the desert, building and lighting a pyre, then bringing the body back and placing it in Ra’s’ study for someone to find. It was incredibly simple, almost too simple for no one to have done before. But Tim was Green, Greener than anyone had ever been before. And no one would ever know.

He’d need to invest in a new suit befitting his new role, maybe bring back some green accents. He no longer needed to mourn Conner. He no longer needed to mourn at all. He was the Demon’s Head, and he would never die.

The whispers laughed cruelly, like the audience of a poorly-written tragedy.

The transition of power wasn’t smooth, but it was quick. Assassins weren’t particularly known for their loyalty, and Fadir made it clear that any dissenters wouldn’t even make it to the door. They only had to clean blood off the stone floors once before that lesson sunk in.

As far as coups go, it was pretty successful. The whispers had quieted, just a little. Tim could sometimes make it hours without the hissing in the back of his mind, reminding him that he couldn’t rest. With power comes paranoia, and Tim was intimately familiar with both.

Now to rid himself of liabilities.

It had been a particularly lucid day, and Tim’s near-silent footsteps were the only hint of noise in the hallway. Tam had been given the option to move her room closer to his, but had refused. He didn’t blame her, it was hard being the civilian favorite of the assassin king. Tim knew this well.

Tim knocked on the wooden door, two quick raps. Somewhere deep in his memory, he wondered if this would have been his life, had everything been different; maybe he’d be knocking on Tam’s door before picking her up for a date. Instead, he straightened his shoulders, put on the shy smile Tam thought was his true one, and waited for her. Shuffling on the other side of the door, then a creak as it swung open. Tim glided in, and Tam looked at him with those big brown eyes, her expression tainted with a touch of fear. He didn’t remember her ever being afraid of him before.

“Do you want to go home?” Tim asked. No preamble, just his soft question in the quiet room.

Tam didn’t even think about it first.

“Yes.”

Tim nodded, then drew out a one-way ticket to Archie Goodwin International Airport, leaving tomorrow night. He held it out to her, that soft smile on his face and a promise in his eyes.

Tam tentatively took it, but kept looking at him. “Are you serious?”

“You’re not a prisoner. I’m sorry I couldn’t let you leave earlier, I just wanted to make sure the League was stable first. My intention was always to get you home.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

Tim slipped his hands in his pockets. “You’re my friend. I just want you to be happy.”

Tam pulled him into a hug, and for a second it felt so nice it almost hurt. Then it was over, and he could be comfortably numb again.

“Aminta will be coming with you, just to make sure you get home safe. Once you’re with your family, you won’t have to see any of my… agents ever again.”

Tam nodded, her face screwed up in an effort to keep from crying. He turned to leave and give her privacy, then paused.

“Tam? Thank you. For being my friend.”

Then the king of shadows disappeared into the night, yet again.

Tim frowned at the wall, a small comms unit tucked in his ear. He hadn’t moved from this room in a day, not since Tam and Aminta left.

“Okay, Aminta, I need you to keep close. You said that it’s just Batman and Robin? No Batgirl?”

“Just Batman and Robin. They haven’t spotted me yet. Robin’s really fallen behind since leaving us.”

Tim growled under his breath and carded a hand through his hair. It was getting long again. Who did Ra’s go to for haircuts? Did he just do it himself?

Focus.

The facts were these: Tam had been contacted by Batman and Robin immediately after Lucius Fox gave word that she was home safe. Tim had been expecting this, and Aminta was sent to follow Tam and ensure that the interaction went favorably. Which is to say that no one killed Tam because of what she knew. Aminta was currently hidden on the same rooftop as Gotham’s favorite heroes, listening in on their rendez-vous.

“What’s happening? Report.”

“She’s telling them--why don’t I just play their conversation? I have the capability.”

“Do it.”

A crackling came over Tim’s comm unit for a few brief seconds before it shifted to three familiar voices.

“It’s okay, Tam. Just tell us everything. From the beginning.” That was Dick. He sounded the exact same way he had when Tim left, tired and a little pained. Serves him right. “Yeah, okay,” there was Tam’s voice, slightly higher pitched than normal. “So my dad sent me to find out where Tim Drake was. And I managed to track him down to Iraq. So I’m in my hotel room one night, and I wake up to someone putting a cloth on my nose. Then everything went black, and the next thing I knew I was in this cold stone room. Then this albino guy tells me to stand up and we walk into this big hallway and there’s Tim. And he’s all sweaty and looks super freaked out. Then they brought us to these bedrooms and told us that we’d be staying a while.”

“Why would they take you?” A third voice asked, the snobby tone immediately registering as Damian. The brat.

“I’m not sure. Maybe my search for Tim sent up some flags? No one ever told me.” Her voice cracked a little, and maybe once upon a time, Tim would have felt sorry for her. Not anymore.

“It’s okay, Tam. After you moved into the Cradle, what happened?”

“Tim spent a lot of time training or with Ra’s. He couldn’t tell me much, but apparently Ra’s took a liking to him. One of the inner circle guys turned out to be a traitor, so Tim took his job. I didn’t see him a lot.”

“Who was the traitor?” Damian again, with a hint of anger in his voice. Or was that fear?

“Some computer guy. The Executioner or something.”

“The Expeditor?” It was definitely fear in Damian’s voice. He sounded like a child when he was scared.

“Yeah, him. I just hung around for the most part. They had books. They gave me makeup and nail polish when I asked for it. I was bored, but never threatened.” Tim snorted. Tam knew more than anyone that just because she didn’t have a knife to her neck didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger every moment of the day.

Dick cleared his throat, then spoke again, “Why did Ra’s let you leave?”

Tam went quiet, just for a second.

“Ra’s al Ghul is dead.”

A beat of silence. Tim would have paid millions to watch them right now.

“How?” Damian, his voice filled with fear, and maybe a little pain.

“I-I don’t know. There was an attack by the Council of Spiders. Tim had them lock me in my room with a guard. Some of the girls I talked to said that Ra’s was burned afterward so they couldn’t revive him. No one knew until the day after.” Tam’s voice was shaking now.

“Then where’s Tim?” Dick asked, finally caring about his younger brother after all this time. What a joke.

Tam stuttered a few times, but eventually got the words out. “Tim… Tim’s the new leader. Ra’s named him his heir before he died.”

A hiss sounded over the comms. That had to be Damian.

“Thank you, Tam. I appreciate you answering our questions. You know where to find us if you remember anything else.”

Some shuffling obscured any new words, then Aminta’s voice appeared. “They’re leaving, do you want me to follow them?”

“Yes,” Tim responded, massaging his temples. The whispers were getting louder now, to a point where it was impossible to understand any one message. It was hard when they got like this, harder than when they teamed up. At least then he didn’t feel like a helpless teacher in a rowdy classroom.

Maybe a minute ticked by before Aminta was back. “They just went a few rooftops away. Robin’s clutching Batman’s cape and crying, but it’s like angry crying. He’s mumbling something, but I can’t understand it. Batman’s rubbing his back, but he looks miserable too. Less angry, more sad.”

“That’ll be all, Aminta, thank you. You can return home tomorrow,” Tim sighed. “Our dear friend Tam has done us a favor, so we should be ready for the consequences.”

“What favor? Telling them everything?”

“Not everything. We still have an ace up our sleeve.”

“What advantage could we possibly have, other than knowing that they know?”

“Tam didn’t tell them about my little swim.”

Somewhere, there was a universe where Timothy Drake-Wayne woke up on the morning of his 18th birthday and put on a suit, ready for a day of meetings at whatever company he was interning for before he started college. Maybe he had a party with his family or a date that night. This is what Tim thought about as he busied himself getting ready. He had never been one for birthdays. Jack and Janet were rarely home, and even when they were in Gotham, they had better things to do than celebrate a child. He didn’t blame them. Before he came to the Cradle, he wasn’t worth celebrating.

The ornate mirror in his bathroom showcased his attire: a loose-fitting white shirt, tailored brown silk pants, and a dark green cape that almost resembled snakeskin. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, but he left them. They made the blue stand out. Here was the heir Ra’s had craved so badly. The old Tim would have made a joke about how he looked like a dark prince from a young adult novel, but not anymore. He was the Demon’s Head now. No, not just its head. He was its hands and heart as well. Tim Drake was a demon through and through.

His guests had landed in Iraq the day before, and he had it on good authority that he could expect them that evening.

Tim drifted around the room, preparing for the meeting as one would prepare for battle. His fingertips lingered on the rings he had inherited from his predecessor, and with a deliberate movement he chose the signet ring Ra’s used to wear. He slipped it on and smiled to himself, a snake poised to strike.

Carefully, he patted his wrists, hips, and ankles to ensure his knives were still there. He had always favored batarangs, but he was no longer a bat or a bird. He had left them behind, just as they had left him.

The White Ghost was waiting at his door, ready to escort him to his study. As they walked, Tim absentmindedly ran his thumb over his knuckles. The whispers hissed inaudibly in his ear, wailing for attention.

“Has the room been secured?” He asked, face neutral.

“Yes. I have placed ninjas along the walls and at every access point. Any familiar with the al Ghul child have been sent on missions abroad, though they remain loyal to you.”

“They leave here alive. If they attempt to attack, I want them subdued but not killed.”

“That’s not wise. It will be seen as a show of weakne-”

“Do you think I am weak?” Tim’s voice was as ice cold as he felt.

“No, of course not,” Fadir backpedaled. “But how can you justify it?”

“By the time I’m done, there will be no need to kill them. This is just a courtesy call, a reminder that my prior allegiances are no longer viable.”

Tim swept into the study, his back straight and his jaw square just the way he had always been taught. From birth, he had been raised to be a prince of Gotham, one of the many pretty boys in suits who graced Forbes covers before they could legally drink. He had been bred for greatness, and he achieved it in his own way. Here, no one would ever best him. He was finally free.

Soon you will have everything. All you have to do is make one order.

Tim’s hands shook slightly, but he tightened his grip on his fountain pen as he sat down. The day was full of reports, requests for missions, and invoices. He had been doing most of this paperwork anyway when he was just a lackey, so it wasn’t an inconvenience. It was methodical in its ruthlessness. $750k for a political assassination in France, 40% taken for the League, the rest wired to a private bank account in the Cayman Islands. $25k to kill a cheating spouse in South Africa, the same 40%, and this time headed for a Swiss bank account. A request for a league member to “take care of” an abuser, which Tim set aside. An invoice for new training blades, as the older ones had been dulled. A new Lazarus Pit that was discovered in Iceland.

The sun began to sink outside of his window, and Tim collected himself, drawing the last shards of who he used to be away from the surface. That Tim was dead and gone, and in his place was someone who was finally worthy. If the old Tim was a bleeding heart, this Tim was the knife that stabbed it.

Fadir knocked on the large oak door to signal that their guests had arrived. Tim pushed himself out from behind the desk, pulled back his shoulders, and stalked out of the room, refusing to look back. It wasn’t that he couldn’t show any weakness--it was that he wasn’t weak at all. Not anymore.

Tim walked down the now-familiar hallways, the whispers humming in happiness as others averted their eyes respectfully as he passed by. Aminta stood at the left hand of the large stone throne in the formal hall, and dipped her head in greeting when he approached. Tim took his place on the throne, relaxing into the smooth stone. Fadir took the right-hand side, his hand on his sword’s pommel at all times.

Ninjas lined the walls, all ready for battle at a moment’s notice. Most had been training for decades, long before Tim was even a thought. And now they served him. One lone ninja entered the room, first bowing to Tim and then scurrying up to the throne.

“They have arrived, sir.”

Tim grinned darkly.

“Bring them in.”

Dick looked older than he had eight months ago. His cowl was pulled up to hide his face, but Tim could see it in the set of his jaw. For a man in his late twenties, Dick looked positively weary.

Serves him right.

Damian was stiff, both an heir and a stranger in a child’s body. He glanced at the ninjas placed around the edge of the room, as if searching for a familiar face. He wouldn’t find one.

Tim did not smile when the man he had once considered his brother approached.

“Hello Dick. Damian.” His voice was colder than he ever thought it could be. “You can remove your masks, everyone here knows who you are.” Or they did now.

Dick hesitated for a fraction of a second, then pulled off the cowl. Damian followed suit with a grumble, peeling off his domino.

Satisfied, Tim smoothed a neutral expression onto his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, the words pleasant but the tone as sharp as a blade.

“Is this where you’ve been all this time?” Dick burst out without preamble. It was a shame that he couldn’t exchange pleasantries, even after all of Alfred’s lessons.

“Not exactly. I was in Paris for a bit, caught up with some old friends.” An old friend, one who probably hadn’t even noticed he was gone. None of them had.

You are powerful because you are alone. Others would betray you. You can trust no one. The whispers chimed in, though they were merely repeating what he already knew to be true.

Damian hissed his displeasure, which earned him an evil look from Dick. Look, he’d already been replaced.

“Tim,” Dick began in a gentle voice, the one he used for scared kids. “Come home. We can figure this out. We’ll get you help, maybe even try that therapist I told you about. Or we can shop around, it doesn’t matter. I miss you. I miss my little brother.”

How pathetic.

“Oh, I believe you misunderstood. This is a business meeting, not an intervention,” Tim hummed, examining his fingernails. The cold steel of the knives tucked in his sleeves was a delicious reminder of who he was, who he had always been destined to become.

“In that case, I believe some clarification is in order. Following the death of Ra’s al Ghul, I became the head of the League of Shadows, a position I am very proud of. I will not be returning to Gotham, unless it is for League business, and I will certainly never fight at your side again.

“In truth, Dick, I have not thought about you or your brat once since coming to stay at the League. I understand that our previous relationship may have led you to believe that I would be a naive fool forever, but that is not the case. I have found meaning now more than you could ever dream of achieving.

“Here is my proposition: I will cease training of any assassins younger than age sixteen immediately. I am also currently updating how the League accepts jobs to minimize the amount of innocent casualties. I will waive all rights to Wayne Enterprises, though anything Bruce willed to me will remain mine. In exchange, you leave me and my assassins alone. You will not contact me unless seeking my services. You can keep your Robin, but he lost his birthright a year ago. These are my conditions, and they are non-negotiable.”

The chatty Dick Grayson was speechless. Instead, it was Damian who spoke.

“You stole my birthright.” For a child, he sounded downright murderous.

Tim smiled. “And you stole mine. I believe that makes us even.”

The child nodded, then drew his sword. Along the walls, ninjas drew theirs as well.

“Damian, no!” Dick hissed, glaring at his brother-ward. “Tim, you can’t be serious. We’re family. This is insane!”

Tim’s expression did not display the glee that bubbled in his chest.

“We were family. But you know what they say, the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” He dismissed Dick’s other accusations with a wave of his hand. “I have given you my terms. You have forty-eight hours to make your decision. Until then, I believe you have overstayed your welcome. You should leave.”

Green pulled at the corners of his vision as the whispers shrieked, begging him to go ahead and kill them. He couldn’t, of course, that would just invite more prying eyes to the League. But he could think about it, and that was enough.

Dick and Damian were almost at the doors when Dick stopped and turned to face Tim, his posture teenagerishly defiant.

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” he spat, as if Dick Grayson had ever truly known Timothy Drake.

Instead, Tim smiled. “I’m the Demon. And you should leave before I make you see Hell.”

A second later, they were gone. Watching them go felt like getting an injection--the pinch lasted for a second, but afterward there was no pain at all.

Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon Demon, the whispers howled as Tim’s blood sang, welcome to your kingdom come.

His hands had always been cold. Ariana used to comment on it all the time--how his touch was borderline freezing. At the time, it had been a running joke: Tim Drake, the boy made of snow, with eyes made of ice and snow-pale skin. It seemed now that even in the heat of the desert, his heart had frozen too.

Nighttime was comfortable in the desert, at least for someone accustomed to Gotham’s climate. Still, the breeze that danced across Tim’s skin left goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t remember when he’d come out here, let alone what for. He barely even noticed how he gripped the banister of the balcony until his knuckles went stark white.

A little prickle of emotion prodded at his subconscious, but he couldn’t identify it even if he wanted to. There was no room for feelings anymore, if there had ever been. If anything, feelings had gotten him into more messes than out of them.

He had become a vigilante because he felt that Batman needed a Robin. He worshiped the ground Bruce walked on because he felt like Bruce saw him as a son. He broke the rules for Stephanie because he felt as if she could love him. He wanted to be with Conner because he felt that someone finally saw him for who he was. He rejected power time and time again because he felt that it was the right thing to do.

But feelings meant nothing. All that truly mattered was knowledge and wanting. And Tim knew more than ever. And he wanted it all.

Once, he had considered them his family. They had loved him, maybe, but they had never known him. He used to believe in a future spent fighting by their side, but he knew that was a child’s dream now--the same child who believed that he wouldn’t live to see twenty-one. Tim had no such concerns now.

He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the League was his new family, nor did he need one. But they would not underestimate him or take him for granted. Here, he had respect and power, and that was enough.

The lights of the nearest city glimmered far on the horizon, promising happiness and gaiety somewhere in the night. He smiled, a secret only for him.

One day, you will rule it all, the whispers promised. One day, you will be king. And you will destroy any who stand in your way.

Long live the Demon.

[onfdata]

[INTV] Singles Korea

Singles Korea, August 2020 Issue Interview with Hyojin & Wyatt

HYOJIN Individual interview

You became more loved: My favorite stage from Road to Kingdom is ‘The We Must Love’, which we did together with YooA sunbaenim. The original song ‘We Must Love’ was really great, but mashed up with ‘Moscow Moscow’, the new arrangement was pure art. The expressive performances given by YooA sunbaenim and the members made the stage feel reminiscent of a musical, and it helped boost public awareness around our team. Like the title suggests, we became more loved.

“This main vocalist is good at his job”: Out of all the feedback I received while on Road to Kingdom, this one made me feel the best. After ‘Everybody’ was uploaded, the top comment was “this main vocalist is good at his job”. It felt really awesome (laughs).

Opening Pandora’s box: We often hear that our songs like ‘We Must Love’ and ’New World’ benefit from their dramatic composition and integrated sense of storytelling. Actually, we started world building with our debut album. Our last stage on the program, ‘New World’, tells the story about setting off after finding a set of keys; each person opens their own Pandora’s box to usher them into the New World. We tried to help the public understand the stage more easily by setting up this worldview. But there’s one Pandora’s Box you should never open… an old video of me singing!

Maintaining one’s figure by eating once a day: In general, I eat more if I dance more. I thought dieting would work, but sadly I can’t hold back on food—as soon as I get my hands on it, I won’t stop eating until it’s all disappeared. For that reason, I’ve gone with eating once a day; I inevitably gain weight if I eat three meals a day. I’m simultaneously controlling myself and dieting to maintain my body. It’s important to maintain a weight and body condition that suits me. So rather than build up muscle for this shoot, I opted to keep my body and weight as is.

—

WYATT Individual interview

The truth behind the brave male rapper ‘Wyatt’: The name ‘Wyatt’ itself refers to a brave man. We picked the name because of my strong image, which makes me look as if I can protect everyone, when in reality… I’m afraid of ghosts and bugs. I’m also afraid of heights. I’m not actually brave, so I ended up getting the nickname ‘Princess’, contrasting with how I appear. It’s kind of like how people call Ma Dongseok sunbaenim ‘Mavely’** (laughs).

Visuals and a low, cave-like voice: There are a lot of people with cave-like voices, so I never gave mine much thought. But a lot of people who watched Road to Kingdom videos reacted kindly to my voice, which I’m very thankful for. There are pros and cons, though. My voice is sonorous and resonant; I sound calm when reading a book or explaining something, which puts people at ease. The con is that I can sound very muddled; since it also echoes, it’s easy for people to misunderstand what I say if I don’t pronounce things exactly right.

Krump: It’s a style of dance I showed on Road to Kingdom for our rearranged stage of SHINee sunbaenim’s ‘Everybody’. I didn’t know about krumping when I started out; I learned about it from a krump teacher after I transferred to Hanlim Art High School. It was then I first encountered the concept of a ‘dancer’ in itself, experienced krumping’s uniquely tough appeal, and even made a krumping team to participate in a contest with. I don’t krump any more. It’s an extremely difficult dance; being an ONF member comes first and foremost, so I’m focusing more on music.

Wyatt’s effort for abs: I worked hard for two weeks leading up to our ‘Everybody’ stage, where I showed my upper body. I didn’t eat any carbs and only had chicken breast and protein shakes. I filled my stomach only with fluids, so I weighed less then than I do now. I found out later on that Hongseok hyung had maintained a balanced diet and workout routine for three weeks. If only I’d had the extra week, I could’ve shown a better body, so it’s a shame.

**T/N: Ma + lovely

—

GROUP INTERVIEW Excerpts

This must be the first time the six of you from Pentagon, ONF, and TOO are meeting up like this.

Wyatt: I thought I’d be in trouble since I’m being reunited again with Hongseok hyung, so I haven’t skipped out on a single day of working out (laughs).

Hyojin: When I found out who I’d be doing the photoshoot with, I couldn’t help but think “is it right for me to even be there?” If you’re doing a shoot by the sea, there’s a certain level of exposure... fortunately, there wasn’t any shocking exposure, but it was still the most amount of exposure I’ve ever put out there (laughs).

What was your favorite stage from Road to Kingdom?

Wyatt: The 90-second face-to-face. I talked about this before, but it’s not that we did well so much as it was that there were so many things lacking about our performance. We saw that as an opportunity for growth in the coming stages. The face-to-face performance was a huge wake-up call for us.

What impact has Road to Kingdom had for you as an individual, and your team as a whole?

Hyojin: Despite how burdened my heart felt, or how impossible things seemed, I could do it. I just didn’t know because I’d never tried. To be honest, I was really worried when it came to our ’It’s Raining’ performance. The song was great, but I didn’t think I could pull it off. But we won first place—I realized that what I was seeing and hearing for myself wasn’t the right answer.

This program took on a tournament format to show the rise towards the ‘Kingdom’. In the end, only one team took the title of champion, but looking at the ‘rediscovered’ teams gathered here today, it doesn’t seem like your efforts have gone in vain. How much effort did each of you make?

Wyatt: By the time we got back to the office after the face-to-face performance, it was 6 AM. Overwhelmed by fear and stress and thinking that we couldn’t carry on the way we were, we held a meeting right away. From that day onwards, it was a constant struggle of man versus mind.

We got to see some amazing, high-quality camerawork only made possible by the 360° stage, which wasn’t present in Season 1’s Queendom, and the likes of which can only be seen at year-end awards ceremonies. What were the pros and cons of this new type of stage?

Hyojin: It was difficult at first because we weren’t acquainted with this type of stage before. I couldn’t adapt and kept thinking negatively, but seeing how the other teams were able to establish a fine balance and create such dynamic stages was so enlightening. We learned how to make our stages even more fantastic and were able to perform cool stages. It was a little disappointing that I couldn’t experience the audience’s real, live reaction, though.

(Translated by @onfdata)

[rora-s]

The Derivative  Chapter 4: Talk

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 3

“In twenty years of teaching. I’ve never received evaluation comments like these.” Larry complained as we followed my uncle on an afternoon hike. “Boring. Me? Intellectually inaccessible.” 

“I thought we came up on this hike to get your mind off of this ridiculous thing.” Charlie pointed out. 

“I mean, one student even said I’m out of touch with cutting-edge thinking in multidimensional theory. That one alone kept me up at night” Larry explained as we scaled a small incline. 

“The first two seem plausible but the third” I shrugged “don’t let it get under your skin” 

“Thank you young enigma for the jaded advice” Larry murmured. 

“Anytime” I replied with a smirk. 

“Everybody gets bad evaluations now and then. Come on!” Uncle C hurried us along. 

“Yeah, yeah says the professor who never received anything less than a rave” Larry replied sarcastically. 

I chuckled “rave? Really?” 

“Indeed student body favorite practically” Larry informed me. 

“As with any large group, there are responses that cover the entire spectrum. I once had a girl in my combinatorics seminar tell me that I was disorganized and I talked too fast.” Charlie explained as Larry leaned on a branch to catch his breath and I took a sip of my water bottle, wondering how I managed to get dragged out here with these two. 

“Well, that’s an accurate observation actually.” Larry admitted. Charlie gave a mildly bewildered look directed at me and I nodded my agreement “but, generally speaking, I mean, your students love you, whereas mine say my classes put them to sleep.” 

“You’re an exceptional professor.” Charlie reassured his friend. “I should know I took classes from you.” 

“Yeah but you were an exceptional young mind” Larry pointed out as a couple other hikers passed us “perhaps I’ve lost my ability to reach the more typical student”  

“Hey Professor Fleinhardt,” one of the passing boys nodded to Larry. 

“Hey” the physicist greeted happily “How’s it… how’s it… how you… how…” Each attempt made to continue conversation failed on the man’s part as the boys continued to walk either not registering or ignoring the professor's attempts. “See we’re not even in class,and still my students run away from me.” 

“Hiking away technically” I corrected casually. 

There was then the sound of a police siren in the distance “I don’t think that’s it” Charlie muttered from his higher vantage. He began to hurry off in the direction the students had gone. Me and Larry followed. “Right down this way. Hurry!” 

What greeted us was a full scale crime scene. With a coroner's truck, police officers, and others gathered masses of observation. As we got around the corner of a police car I felt my feet freeze to the ground. There was a body laying a couple yards away below the bridge overhead. 

I felt the ghost of rain drops on my skin and felt the family spiking headache rocket through my brain. They were in a red hoodie. It was a boy. But each time I blinked as I began to do so furiously I was switching between this reality and the one of the girl with bright red hair. The rain was picking up, the headache was pulsing. I couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“Abby” I snapped my head around as a hand laid on my shoulder. Charlie was looking at me with concern evident in his features. “Are you alright?” 

I bounced my eyes around the scene. It wasn’t raining, it wasn’t at night, and we weren’t out on that street. I took a couple calming breaths before finally replying “yeah yeah fine” I muttered. 

“You sure?” Charlie asked again. 

“Fine” I reiterated. I caught Larry eyeing me worriedly as well. “Guys seriously I just- I didn’t expect that” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the body I did not need, or want, to look at again.

“Me neither” Charlie murmured in agreement, taking his hand off my shoulder and his features turning to one of contemplation as he looked at the bridge.

“Very well, you were just exhibiting the common signs of what one might call a panic attack” Larry voiced. 

“I’m fine, really just rattled” I tried to sound convincing. From the look on Larry’s face he wasn’t convinced but he dropped the issue and for that I was glad. 

_________________

3rd POV. 

Don sighed as he got out of his car and headed into the FBI building. His phone beeped as he made his way through the lobby and he looked to see it was Abby. “hey kid what’s up?” he answered trying to sound like he had some energy. 

“Am I going to the apartment or Grandpa’s house after school today?” she asked, sounding about as tired as he felt. 

Don thought about it for a minute “go on to your Grandpa’s alright I’ll call the school clear it up”

“So you are looking into the guy who jumped off the bridge?” Abby asked as Don clicked the elevator button. 

“Just a little for Charlie’s sake” Don muttered then a thought occurred to him. “Wait how do you know about this? Charlie talk to you?” 

“Uh… I was there when Larry and Charlie came upon the scene” Abby admitted. 

Don let off a breath. “You alright? I mean that can be some scary stuff.” he couldn’t help thinking about his first jumper case.

“Yeah I’m fine I just wish people would stop asking” Abby grumbled snappily that did not reassure Don at all of her being fine. 

“Abby, it's okay if some of this got to you” Don reassured as the elevator opened and he got on. 

He heard her sigh on the other line “I know it’s just… it’s not what people think it’s about and it’s hard to talk about” Don was confused at the answer but before he could probe more she was continuing “I have to get to class now. See you later” 

“Yeah okay, bye” Don muttered before she hung up. He let off a breath pocketing his phone. He was going to have to deal with that later, or maybe it would be better to let her work through it on her own? He was still contemplating these thoughts when the elevator opened and he was walking out. “Dad? What are you doing here?” he questioned seeing the man. 

“I called you; you hadn’t called me back” Alan explained. 

“Well, I would’ve eventually” Don assured “is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Alan muttered in reply “I need you to come to dinner at the house on Wednesday. Um, I have a date” 

“Oh yeah? A date” Don tried to sound encouraging. “Hey, well, that’s good. With who?” 

“Oh, someone Art knows from yoga” Alan explained. “Yeah, her name’s Jill. he says she’s smart, she’s funny, and, uh, quite flexible” Alan spoke the last compliment to the woman with a hinting look and slight chuckle “So I.. we’re having dinner at the house and I would like you to be there.” 

“Wow, hey, no.” Don began to quickly try and work his way out of the perceivably awkward dinner. “Just take her somewhere low-key. You’ll be fine” he suggested leading his dad back to the elevator. 

“Look, it’s my first date in over 35 years.” Alan grumbled “I would like ‘memorable’ instead of ‘low-key’” 

“‘Low-key’ and ‘memorable’ aren’t mutually exclusive.” Don objected “you know what my favorite date ever was? Pepperoni pizza in a laundromat.” 

“Yes, which explains the conspicuous absence of grandchildren.” Alan muttered then thought “well I guess planned grandchildren.” Don sighed and gave his father a look “So, Wednesday, 7:30. Bring a date?” 

Don shook his head “I can’t. Dad, I’m busy, and I don’t anticipate meeting anyone between now and then either. By the way your unplanned grandchild is heading to your house after school in” he glanced at his watch “40ish minutes so you should get going.” 

“Of course she is” Alan sighed “No, but anyway I just want to make it a couples thing, you know? Look like, seeming like…” 

“Well I don’t think-” Don cut off as the elevator opened with a ding revealing Terry standing there. 

“Hi” she greeted Don “hey Mr. Eppes” she also greeted Alan with a mild curiosity to his presence evident on her face. Her and Alan switched spots as she exited the elevator and he entered. “Good to see you” 

“You too” Alan agreed as she walked away then he turned to his son “you’ll think of something” he made a suggestive nod after Don’s partner. The FBI agent sighed as the doors slid shut and he walked away. 

________________

Abby POV. 

I headed into my grandfather’s house tiredly. I hadn’t slept last night after seeing that boy the other day. Images of him and another memory from months ago swapping places and intermingling in my mind. It was like my brain was caught in a cyclone. 

“Abby? You here?” Gramps called from his chair as I came in the door. 

“Yeah” I called back. 

He looked over at me, glasses perched on his nose. “You alright you look beat” 

“Just tired,” I admitted taking a seat next to him. Tossing my bag on the floor. 

“Rough day at school?” he quizzed. 

I shook my head “trouble sleeping. Charlie didn’t tell you? A CalSci student committed suicide yesterday. Larry, Uncle C, and I stumbled upon the crime scene while going for a hike” I explained. 

“Oh my word” Alan sighed “that’s horrible I mean I saw the news. That poor boy’s parents but you seeing that. I’m sorry” 

I shook my head “no I’m fine it’s not-” I swallowed my words. 

“Not what?” Alan prompted my abrupt stop. “Abby, listen if this is making it hard for you to sleep I don’t think it’s nothing. If you try talking about it maybe it’ll help” 

“It’s just- it’s hard to explain sometimes.” I voiced carefully. 

Alan put down the paper he was reading and removed his glasses shifting in his seat to face me. “It can’t hurt to try and explain it Abby” 

I bit my lip but let off a sigh collecting my thoughts for a moment “because of my AEM, my memory thing, I- I get these- these attacks. It’s my memory but it’s things I don’t want to remember don’t choose to remember. And- and these intrusive memories they just- sometimes in the moment I can’t keep them straight from reality it’s it’s-”

“It's scary,” Alan finished my sentence, reaching out to give my hand a squeeze. I nodded “and these attacks they’re like panic attacks? Triggered by something?” 

“Yeah they’re a lot like that” I replied feeling oddly better now that someone knew about it. “My blinders and music help calm me down” I told him, finding it easier to continue now that I’d started. Alan nodded taking in the information easily. 

“So seeing that scene, this boy, it caused one of these attacks?” he deduced. I nodded “your mother?” 

“No” I objected quickly, opening my mouth to say more but feeling it cut off by visions of red hair and pools of water on the ground under street lights. I swallowed.

“It’s okay if you can’t talk about it yet” Alan reassured me and I looked up at him again “just know when you do I’m here for you so is Charlie and your father. Now you might get tired of me saying this but uh.. Abby you’re not alone and- and if these intrusive memories are a struggle for you you should tell Don about them” 

“I know” I smiled lightly “It’s just-” 

“Hard” Alan finished my thought again “some of the most important parts of life are” 

I sighed knowing he was right “thanks for listening” 

“Of course” he nodded and picked his glasses and paper, back up again. “Oh, uh by the way. You’re going to be hanging out with your Uncle Charlie Wednesday night or otherwise at Don’s” 

“Why?” I asked in confusion. 

“I have a, uh, a date and I’ve asked your father to be there hopefully with his own date.” Alan explained awkwardly. 

I scoffed “Don on a date?” 

“Yes, that’s not a problem for you is it?” the man asked.

“No” I objected but the slight curling in my stomach was telling me internally the opposite. “I’m going to go work on my homework upstairs,” I told Alan, grabbing my bag. 

“Alright” Alan nodded, perching his glasses back on his nose. I sighed getting to my feet and heading from the room. 

____________________

“Let’s see how it does in high winds.” Charlie stated, beginning to type the information into the computer. 

Larry made a humming noise and looked over at me “and what are you reading over there?” 

“Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix” I replied. 

“Fascinating” Larry nodded “I have to say I wouldn’t have pegged you as one who read young adult fiction despite your age. I was informed you read quite a leap beyond your level” 

“I do” I answered easily “doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a good story and relatable characters”

“Fair enough” Larry agreed then made another humming noise of thought “you know young adult literature much like it’s intended audience tends to be underestimated in the long run by people. Such as the young man whose work we are interpreting was ignored by his elders in his warnings” 

I scoffed turning the page of my book “preaching to choir here” 

“School still won’t let you in advanced classes?” Charlie asked. 

“No” I mumbled “I mean they do realize it’s not my fault I missed so much school” 

“Yes, well if you ask me the greatest failing for one who wants to be an educator is to grow up and forget what it means to be young” Larry mused.

“How profound” Charlie muttered sarcastically “now can we focus please?” 

“Why of course” Larry agreed, shooting me a look before I turned back to my story. 

__________________

“Hey Chuck what’d you find?” Don asked, coming into the office alongside Terry. 

“The problem is wind” Charlie explained, shuffling over to where Larry sat and I stood behind the computer. 

“Wouldn’t they have already tested for stability in winds?” Don questioned, dubious. 

“Engineers test structural response to gusts along two axis north to south and east to west.” Larry informed 

“And, in those cases, a single side supported by two corners bears the brunt of the wind load” Charlie carried on the explanation. 

“Think of a straight-on wind as two cars colliding” Charlie posed the analogy “in contrast-- excuse me--” he shuffled Larry out of his seat to take control of the computer “quartering winds hit a building at an angle, exerting pressure on two sides anchored by a single corner.” 

“It’s like one target, two bracing going to two targets one bracing” I voiced with a shrug. The non-mathematically inclined people still looked mildly confused. 

“Imagine a car getting hit from the back and the side simultaneously.” Charlie continued with the car analogy. 

“Can those winds cause structural issues?” Terry inquired. 

“Our tests showed that the Cole Center is sound for head-on winds of up to 90 miles an hour” Charlie showed them the simulation “but here’s what happens with quartering winds as low as 60 miles per hour” he plugged it into the simulation and began to narrate what we were showing them “first the steel frame bends beyond its limits and stays bent. Then this strained steel hardens and becomes brittle. Under continuing stress this steel will fracture, causing complete structural collapse.” the computer beeps rapidly as the simulation reached its third stage “Finn Montgomery found the problem in the building’s deflection. He suspected the effects would be serious.” Charlie stated as the digital building collapsed “he was right and he may have paid with his life” 

“Alright we’ll bring it up to Cole, get people out of the building to start then start looking to see who’s responsible” Don assured. 

“Thanks Don” Charlie nodded. 

“Yeah well we still gotta see what Cole says, alright” Don told his brother. 

“Sounds like an early day tomorrow” Terry voiced “I better get home then” 

“Yeah, thanks for coming tonight” He told her. Shuffling away from those of us still testing the math on the simulation by the computer. 

“You’re welcome and it was for the most part enjoyable” Terry told him. “See you tomorrow. Have a good night you three” she called to us with a wave. 

We called back fair wells in response as she headed from the office. “Alright kid we should get back too. Got school in the morning” 

I heaved a sigh “right coming. Night Uncle C, bye Larry” 

“Night,” Charlie called, not looking up from his computer and Larry offered a wave. 

I grabbed my bag and books and followed Don out of the office. “So you and Terry had fun?” 

“Uh yeah more than dad anyway. Bit of a train wreck for the poor guy” Don explained. I made a humming noise of acknowledgement wondering what had gone so wrong to qualify as a train wreck. “Listen, I know you said you were fine with this whole thing but- uh you know I’ve seen enough to be able to tell when someone’s not fine and it’s okay if you need space to deal with it or whatever but uh, I just I guess if you have to talk about it.” he kinda trailed off with gesturing hands as words failed him. 

“We really suck at this communications thing” I determined. 

Don scoffed as we exited the building “yeah well at least we’re trying” 

“True,” I murmured and took a deep breath. “there is something I need to tell you. There’s this thing I have. Gramps correlated it with panic attacks but it’s part of my memory they call it-” 

“Intrusive memory right?” Don interjected. 

I snapped my head up to look at him “you know about it?” 

The man nodded “yeah it was in your medical records. Social worker warned me about it. I am your legal guardian if you recall” 

“Oh” I murmured realizing I probably should have realized he knew about this sooner “so why didn’t you say anything about it?” 

“Well, I figured you’d talk to me about it when you were ready or at least not until you had an attack or something” Don explained awkwardly. 

A small smile came to my face “thanks” 

“Hey you’re my kid. As new as I am to this parent thing I can stand to get a couple things right” he told me. 

I laughed lightly “okay” 

“Okay” Don nodded “now let's get out of here it’s late” he pulled me into a small side hug arm around my shoulder as we headed toward the car and I couldn’t help but keep smiling. 

________________

“Yo!” Don called coming in through the back door. 

“We’re in here.” Alan called in reply. 

A moment later Don came in with a box setting it on the dining room table “Hey, All right, FBI accountants went over all of Nevelson’s financials, and these are all the documents that relate to the foundation. Our people could find nothing.” 

“So why didn’t you have Charlie look at the records in the first place?” Alan inquired as I continued to eat quietly. Saving my ‘I could help’ pleas for later. 

“The FBI has a team of excellent forensic accountants.” Charlie objected. 

“I know.” the elderly man clarified “but it wouldn’t be the first time you find something that they missed.” 

“You know, a lot of mathematicians do have eidetic numerical memory” Charlie explained “similar to Abby’s ability to remember everything she encounters visually only specifically geared toward numbers that are repeated and in patterns”

“So my memories better” I commented with a smirk. 

“Your visual memory yes” Charlie gave me a look as he got up and began looking through the papers. 

“So I could be able to help,” I pointed out. 

“Yes you-” Charlie cut off looking back at his brother “but you probably shouldn’t” 

“Yeah and I’m saying you’re not going to,” Don declared as Charlie took the box and headed into the foyer. 

I groaned rolling my eyes “you know once I turn eighteen I’m going to get my clearance and then you won’t be able to stop me”

“Yeah well right now you’re going to help me with dishes while he works on that” Don decided collecting plates “come on” he chided and I gathered my plate and cup as well as Alan’s.

“No here I got it uh…” Grandpa objected and glanced at my dad’s back who was walking into the kitchen as he stood up. “I want to talk to Don for a second alright?” 

“Alright but if I happen to stay out here and see Charlie’s stuff for the case..” I trailed with a pointed look. 

“Fine I’ll cover for you. Deal?” He replied. 

“Best grandpa ever” I smiled and he hummed with an amused smile on his face as I turned and headed after my uncle. 

_______________

3rd POV.

Don looked over his shoulder as he entered the kitchen and was surprised to see his father following him rather than his daughter. “What happened to Abby?” 

“She had homework I made her go work on it” Alan replied “you know she’s stubborn about that stuff puts it off” Don let off a humming noise his instincts of suspicion kicking in “mainly cuz I wanted to ask you about something.” 

“What?” Don gave his father a look as he put the dishes in the sink. This made more sense. 

“You’re best date ever was with your partner?” Alan inquired and immediately Don realized why Alan had pestered Abby away before asking. 

“Dad, please” 

“No, it’s just a simple observation.” Alan defended as they put away the food. “I mean if it was so great why did you split up?” 

“It was an academy thing” Don explained “we got posted to different places. We had our careers to concentrate on.” 

“So now you’re in the same city, same careers” 

“Same office” Don cut his father off “which, in our case, can be a dangerous thing.” 

“Your mother and I met at work.” Alan posed.

“In the lunch line.” Don pointed out “Look, Dad, Terry and I have to see each other every day. You know? We have to look out for each other.”

“So that means any trust issues are already behind you.” the father suggested. “Plus Abby seems to like her” 

“Look, just because you’re eager to start dating again-” 

“Eager? Are you kidding me?” Alan cut his son off exasperatedly “you saw me last night. I know, I know, I know I got to get back into it. Your mother said I should meet new people after she was gone.” 

“Well, that’s right. That sounds like her” Don agreed. 

“I know she made me promise.” Alan sighed “I mean, she knew that, without a push, that I might not do it. So she pushed” Don nodded considering his father’s words. “And remember Donnie you’ve got more to think about than just yourself now” 

Don sighed “yeah I know” he looked out the kitchen door toward the space in the house his daughter was somewhere. 

“Being a parent is never easy and it’s twice as hard to be a single parent doing the work for two” Alan voiced. Don let out a breath and the two men were silent for a moment. “Just consider this your push” 

A moment later Abby popped her head into the kitchen. “Me and Charlie found something in the records.” she announced.

“You and Charlie?” Don questioned giving her a stern look. “What happened to homework?” The teen grimaced slightly and shot a look to her Grandfather who held his hands up in surrender. Don sighed “show me what you found” 

Abby led him out to the table in the foyer where Charlie had the records spread out under a light. “You’re never going to believe this,” Abby murmured. 

“Believe what?” Don asked, confused. 

“Fake people” Abby stated as if that were clearer. 

Don looked to his brother “Now, here is a list of workers employed in building the foundation”

“And?” Don questioned. 

“And a lot of them don’t exist.” Charlie stated “yeah. There’s a preponderance of fours and sevens in the union ID numbers, which could be due to accounting codes, except they show up in the overtime hours like, 14s and 17s everywhere here, here, and here” Charlie showed Don the various documentation. “These numbers, they can’t be explained by random occurrence. Somebody made them up. They’ve been fabricated by someone who likes these numbers who left behind a pretty obvious pattern.” 

“Fake people” Abby reiterated. 

“Well obvious to you” Don grumbled looking the paper over. 

“People like us” Abby clarified “honestly your forensic accountants should have picked up on it” 

“Here’s a very interesting thing also.” Charlie hurried over to the other side of the table as Don shot his daughter a warning look at her disrespectful tone. “All the, ah, all the workers we’ve identified as fake are listed as welders. Except there aren’t any other welders on the payroll backup.”

“Well you can’t build a foundation without welders” Alan piped in from the tv room “sounds like Nevelson was using a shadow crew.” 

“So how would that work, Dad?” Don asked as Alan walked over. 

“Non-union laborers, usually illegal aliens. They pay them under the table.” the former city planner explained “see, the contractors would use them at night to avoid the unions.”

“So what? Like lower pay, no overtime, medical benefits?” Don questioned. 

“That’s right,” Alan nodded heading back to the kitchen. 

“But people still get hurt,” Don voiced thoughtfully. “And there’ll be hospital records” 

________________

Abby POV. 

“So I am getting right back on that horse” Alan declared as the four of us sat at a restaurant eating. “Not that this lady is anything like a horse.” he added “she’s really quite attractive.” 

“So it’s not a blind date?” Don clarified. 

“No, it’s the butcher that sold me the duck.” Alan explained. 

“No” Don chuckled. 

“Yes” Alan insisted “yeah, she’s very nice and she really knows her waterfowl.”

“Right” Don scoffed. 

“Good luck Gramps” I encouraged. 

“Why thank you Abby” Alan smiled then turned to his younger son “Charlie. Charlie” When the mathematician was only somewhat responsive the elderly man turned back to me and Don “this is not the brilliant thought brood. This is the other brood.” he informed. 

“You alright Charlie?” Don asked. 

“You knew it was a suicide.” Charlie stated 

“No look,” Don objected, shaking his head. “I said from the get-go I didn’t know, but I did suspect.” 

“Despite all the variables and the inconclusive autopsy, and the layers of crime that were uncovered?” Charlie pressed. 

“The fact that the kid exhibited suicidal behavior and then he did it.” Don explained. “It’s Occam's Razor, you know? I mean, the simplest answer is usually the right one.” 

“Occam’s Razor?” Alan questioned. 

“What?” Don gave us looks as we all began to chuckle slightly “I read a book every now and then. I mean I did help in the creation of the biggest book worm I know.” he ruffled my hair slightly. 

“Occam was a philosopher, he wasn’t a mathematician” Charlie pointed out “and what he actually said was that you shouldn’t make more assumptions than needed. It’s the basis of methodological reductionism. So, any given data set,...” 

“And I thought school was done for today” I muttered as Charlie began to scribble on a napkin. Don and Alan just scoffed and let the man go. He needed to talk right now.

Chapter 5 ->