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phantom-z0ne · 10 months

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"He could feel their grip on him slipping, the suction too strong. If they held on any longer they would also be sucked in, they were dangerously close to the edge of the black hole. He wouldn't let that happen to them, even if it was the last thing he would do. They were precious to him, he couldn't let them get hurt too. Tim threw off their hold on him, their distraught faces the last thing he saw before he was fully submerged, everything going black." Or, Mutant!Tim accidently takes over Comics!Tim's body, gets in a fight with assassins, and gets to blow things up, as a treat.

Step 1: Arrive

Having Jean Grey of all people in his head was rare for Tim, especially when it was for an emergency. She favored talking face to face, or at least through a telephone. Only when something went wrong was when she discarded those methods, communicating instead with her abilities. He wasn't usually the first person called in, that was reserved for the X-Men.

This time though, Jean needed his help with a mutant that just manifested his mental ability. Unfortunately, he couldn't control it in time and trapped himself in his mind. She couldn’t ask the Professor due to him still recovering from the Apocalypse situation and there weren't any other mutants with the abilities she was looking for available to ask. That left him, a mutant with a powerful mental ability. Psychokinesis, to be exact.

He could feel the multitude of emotions wash over him as he neared the mansion. Distress sticking out sharply among the sea of positive emotions. He usually had to suppress his ability due to how overwhelming it could be in an area with a large amount of people. Unfortunately, he would have to do his work in the mansion, with almost a hundred students around. He pursed his lips, he hoped he could help the mutant without the other student’s emotions or thoughts getting in the way. He would rather they do this in a remote area, but Jean had said they couldn't risk moving the mutant.

Tim hopped off his bike after parking it in the garage, getting curious looks from some students and greetings from others—which he returned, he hadn't seen some of them in months—as he walked down the halls of the mansion. He let the muted distress guide him to where the mutant was. Jean’s ability brush against him in greeting and gratefulness, welcoming the warmth it gave him. Her power was distinctive, as scorching as the sun to her enemies and a pleasant hearth to her allies.

He entered the room the mutant in need of help was housed in, Jean positioned next to the mutant with her eyes closed in focus, hands on his temple. Her mind, however, was split between trying to unearth the mutant from his own mind and explaining the situation to him.

The mutant, Elijah Nguyen, had recently manifested his ability. It was thought that he developed minor esper abilities, but he started to display signs of other abilities, such as teleportation and minor telekinesis. Jean theorized he was in this state because of his new mental ability, the ability to walk through minds much like he and Jean could do. Unfortunately, because of his lack of training, Elijah trapped himself in his own mind.

Tim sat on the opposite side of Elijah’s body and grabbed his hand, vaguely aware of the Professor wheeling into the room as he sunk into Elijah’s mind. He filtered through all the thoughts and emotions flowing around him, around the mansion, he needed to focus only on Elijah. Locking on his target, Tim breathed deeply and entered Elijah’s mind, sinking past many layers to finally enter Elijah’s mindscape.

Every mind was different, there were no two same minds. Perhaps similar, but never the same. Elijah’s mind was bright, yet shadowed at the same time. It reminded him of the galaxy; splotches of black and purple colored the edges of the mind as nonsensical clouds formations floated about, glowing stars sprinkled throughout. Planets of many sizes and shapes drifted in the background, made of many different hues and shades, thin beams of light cutting through the image. If he could describe this scene to anyone, ethereal would be the first word off his tongue.

Tim followed the residue of Jean’s power, appearing as a wispy red trail. He found her near the core of Elijah’s mind, in front of a massive swirling nebula. She was in the middle of trying to breach the nebula and pull Elijah out without hurting him, sending him a strained smile once she noticed him. Tim could sense Elijah trapped in that nebula, the distress and fear clearer here than anywhere else. Unluckily for them, it was hard to create an opening, the nebula quickly layering over any small gap Jean made.

He aided Jean in chipping away the defenses of the nebula, making sure to be careful not to hurt Elijah, pieces of the nebula floating away as they continued their assault on the barrier. They exchanged small comments as they chipped pieces of the nebula away, asking the other to aim at a certain area or expressing their concern about Elijah’s wellbeing. After this was all done and over with, they would have to help build back his mental defenses.

After some time, the nebula looked to be in rough shape, small openings showed slivers of Elijah’s body. Tim reached for him before pausing, something wasn't quite right. He looked at Jean, wondering if she noticed the same thing he did. She nodded, reading him quite easily through their intertwined minds, and looked at the nebula warily.

Suddenly, the nebula darkened and condensed, a gaping black hole taking its place. Any opens that could be seen were now closed, Tim could feel the layers of matter that made up the black hole thickening. It was extremely dense and expanding at an alarming rate, aiming straight for Jean.

Tim felt rather than heard Jean’s startled shout as he shoved her out of the trajectory of the black hole; he knew that if that black hole touched either of them, there would be serious consequences. They should have been more prepared, he thought, a bit upset at himself. He knew this wouldn’t be an easy job, but he underestimated Elijah’s power, or perhaps overestimated his own. Of all the minds he's been through, very few have been able to use their powers while in their own mind. He didn't know why he expected this to be the same.

The black hole expanded faster than he could move out of the way, his lower body being sucked into it. He tried to stamp down his panic, distantly hearing Jean call his name. Panicking wouldn’t do him any good, but he couldn't help it. He could feel parts of his lower body being transported elsewhere, knowing his lower body was elsewhere yet still being able to feel them was extremely jarring. Was he being teleported while in another’s mind? What would happen to his physical body?!

No, this was more than just teleportation! He’s been teleported by many different mutants over the past couple years and they didn't feel anything like this. ‘It hurts!’

Instinctively, he latched onto Jean and the Professor's minds in order to not be swept away, his pain and fear pouring into them. He could feel the Professor's surprise at suddenly linking minds with him before it hardened into alarm. Jean was the same, scared and worried yet determined, just as she always was. She grabbed his arms and tugged on them, trying to dislodge him while avoiding also getting sucked into the black hole.

The Professor created a thin barrier to try and contain the rest of the black hole, the most he could do while weakened, as he and Jean got closer, keeping their grip on him as firm as they could. He had sunk around an inch or two by that point, the black hole up to his abdomen now.

He could feel their grip on him slipping, the suction too strong. If they held on any longer they would also be sucked in, they were dangerously close to the edge of the black hole. He wouldn't let that happen to them, even if it was the last thing he would do. They were precious to him, he couldn't let them get hurt too. Tim threw off their hold on him, sending them a brave face that doubled as an apology. He hastily ejected their minds out of his, instead spinning a barrier around them. Their distraught faces the last thing he saw before he was fully submerged, everything going black.

Tim groaned, his head was pounding. He could hear an odd buzzing in the distance, faint mumbling fading in and out of his hearing range. His mouth was dry, a few smacks of his lips didn't help his tongue stop feeling like sandpaper. Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was being fully swallowed up by the black hole… He actually didn't expect to make it out in one piece, not to mention in his body. It seemed his body came along despite his mind being transported to who knows where.

A harsh kick to his side snapped him out of his daze. He had been laying on the floor, chaos surrounding him. A group of people in obnoxious green suits decorated with question marks crowded around him, various weapons in their hands and ready to strike. One of them asked, “Did we get ‘im?”

Across what he assumed was a warehouse, a man—the ringleader most likely, he was also dressed in the strange green outfit, but it was much higher quality compared to the others—stood on a platform and boasted about his superior mind to a person dressed in head to toe in black. He couldn't afford to be distracted in an unfamiliar setting, he needed to deal with the immediate threats.

Leaping up from his sprawl, Tim aimed for the goon closest to him, kicking him in the privates and kneeing him in the face when he leaned forward in pain. He went down, hard. The others rushed forward after that, clearly aiming to knock him out again.

What they wanted with him, he had no idea. He couldn't remember messing with any group dressed in green. Unless he counted the Tankers, but they mostly wore jerseys and hoodies, not low quality suits riddled with question marks. Not to mention, he dealt with the Tankers last year. They wouldn't wait such a long time to suddenly attack him, that just wasn't their M.O.

Tim was glad that he had practice with dealing with group attacks, what with him sticking his nose into gang affairs, otherwise he would have struggled to fight this group off. When he tried to get into their heads to knock them out, however, was when he had trouble. A pounding migraine stopped him from actively using his ability on the group, blood begin to drip from his nose before one of the goons landed a lucky hit while he was distracted.

No using his powers on others anytime soon, then. It hadn't gotten this bad even when he overused his abilities before. An unwanted side effect of the sudden transportation.

Sloppily knocking out the last goon, he tucked himself into a discreet area of the warehouse and wiped his bloody nose, finally taking the time to go over his situation. He woke up in an unfamiliar suit after he was taken to an unknown location, is currently unable to use his ability on others without pain, and most likely took over someone’s body.

This body was different from his own body, the most obvious difference being muscles much more toned than his. If he could tell the body’s age from just its build, then he would guess it was in its early to mid-twenties. Whoever’s body this was, they clearly worked out regularly. Tim’s body couldn't really compete, smaller and leaner than the body he was currently in. It wasn't much of a surprise considering his recent break from crime fighting. That would definitely slim down the amount of muscle mass one had.

Tim guessed he was either shoved into someone else’s body or lost time after dealing with Elijah. While he couldn’t rule out amnesia, he doubted that explained his predicament. He sighed, already sick of the situation he was in.

The small break gave Tim time to look over what he was wearing. The armored suit was predominately black, streaks of yellow traced his under arms. A large gray utility belt wrapped around his waist, going through them revealed a miscellaneous assortment of items and weapons. One condensed bo staff piqued his interest, he could use it if the situation went south. The black, wing shaped cape draped over his body, letting him blend smoothly into the shadows. Twisting the cape around revealed its yellow interior. Odd to have that when the suit was designed for stealth. A black domino mask being the only thing covering his face, and his identity, when he checked his reflection on the stained metal sheet laying beside him.

The person whose body he was inhabiting was obviously a vigilante—he had ruled out the amnesia theory quickly, this body didn't have the scars or beauty marks in places his body did when he peeked under the gloves. If the suit and weapons weren't enough to convince him, then the situation he was in did. Tim wouldn't really consider himself a vigilante anymore, just someone that happened to uncover crimes in the past, but it was a bit ironic that he was thrown into the body of one. He did surround himself with vigilantes.

Unfortunately, his options on what to do were limited, he couldn't verify whose body this was without actively using his ability or unmasking himself in an area filled with enemies. Neither option was very appealing. For now, he would attempt to act like the person whose body this belonged to while he looked for ways to get back into his own body. The pain only flared up when he tried to use it against other people, not himself. It's possible that extending his power outwards instead of inwards could have been the problem.

He tested this, trying to contain his power within this body, moving his arm experimentally with his ability. A success, but a minimal amount of pain still remained when he used his ability. It seemed the more he tried to use his ability outside of his body, the more it would hurt. This meant Tim could check on the original inhabitant of this body, if they were still in the body. For now, he simply shored up his mental barriers, letting his ability recede behind their walls.

He peeked at the scene from behind a large wooden crate, the man in the black armored suit was finishing his battle with the man in the green bowling hat, handcuffing the ringleader’s hands behind his back. A burst of static emerged from the comm in his ear—which was surprisingly sleek compared to the ones he had used—when the man raised a hand to the side of his cowl. A voice spoke, “Black Bird, come in.”

Black Bird? That was the body’s code name? Seriously? He couldn't really complain, though, his previous code name was Cardinal. Tim answered, “Here.”

The deep voice of the vigilante—if fighting criminals in a dimly lit warehouse didn't scream vigilante, then he didn't know what did. He doubted he was the only partner of the black clad vigilante, there could be another person, or even multiple, on this line—simply stated, “Report.”

He took a deep breath before he started, hoping to sound like the original, “The goons are disposed of.” Tim paused briefly, licking his lower lip before continuing, “I was hit in the head. Most likely suffering from a concussion.” Hopefully that would cover the difference in behavior for some time, he didn't plan to stick around for long.

It wasn't just an excuse, he would need to treat it soon. It was likely what inhibited him from purposefully using his ability outside his body. Head wounds tended to do that. Though, Tim could still passively feel the presence and emotions of everyone in the warehouse, whether they were conscious or not. It was his base ability, just as it were Jean’s. It's what they initially bonded over when they first met.

There was a brief pause before the voice uttered, “Meet me at the Batmobile.” The line clicked off immediately after.

Batmobile? What— you know what? He won't even think about it. He needs a place to stay and heal from his concussion, then figure out what to do next. He also needed to figure out where the original owner of the body went.

They could have swapped bodies for all he knew. Or, the original could have been shoved out of the body, which would be…unfortunate. Hopefully, that wasn't the case. If they did, Tim would have to track him down and manually swap their minds into the correct bodies. That was only if this body’s owner stayed where he could find him.

Tim crawled out of his hiding spot and followed the man after he slipped out of sight, his surprisingly immense presence leading him to a sleek black car.

The man in black waited until Tim climbed into the car before turning it on, smoothly rolling onto the empty road. There was only a small barrier between them, the small gadgets laid atop it sliding into the backseat as the car sped up. He knew he should be more careful about being taken to a secondary location by a stranger, but this man was his only lead on whose body he was inhabiting. If it really came down to it, he would subdue him with his ability, whether or not it would hurt.

Tim ran his fingers absentmindedly over the dashboard of the car, feeling for any thin seams he couldn’t see. Mccoy would salivate after this car, its engine alone was amazingly quiet and he barely felt the turns. The inside was even better, there were many buttons, some unlabeled, and screens that moved at the touch of a finger! The radio was tuned to the police scanner, reports rolling in about break ins and missing persons. It was a technological wonder, he admired.

Tim focused his attention on the windows, watching the scenery pass by. Instead of being displaced in space, he wondered if he was also displaced in time. Some of the buildings he passed had thin screens covering them, even the gloomy clouds displayed colorful moving advertisements. He had never seen such a thing before, he wondered if it was even 1983 anymore. Would he be able to meet a future version of himself if he searched?

Static crackled in his comm before a smooth voice said, “B, I'm finished on my end. How's Baby Bird? You said he had a concussion?”

B responded, “Good job, Nightwing. We’re heading to the cave now.” Tim mouthed baby bird silently. At least he had something to call this man, but it would be a bit hard finding out what it stood for unless Nightwing let the man's full code name slip. B could be short for anything. He’ll have to be careful if he wants to pose as Black Bird, he can't just assume it's only B and Nightwing that will be at this ‘cave’. If there's three of them, then there's a higher possibility of more vigilantes.

“Tt. He can't even handle some of Riddler’s lackeys? As expected of Drake.” A high-pitched voice huffed. Riddler? The guy in a bowling hat with a question mark, the ringleader? No wonder there were such garish question marks on his goons with such a ridiculous name. He wondered if being tacky was a requirement to be a villain. Some of the villains in his time obviously never heard of fashion, picking the most clashing colors to place on their outfits and the outlandish of names. It seemed like it was the same here.

“No real names on the field, Robin.” A mechanical voice said, gently scolding Robin. Robin scoffed but stayed silent.

He supposes that the ‘Drake’ that Robin spoke of was this body’s last name. Oddly enough, it was the same as his own. The same last name and a similar build… Could he be in an alternate Tim Drake’s body? It’s a possibility, but he needed to find out more before he could confidently state it as true. He’ll keep it at the back of his mind, the concussion was making it hard to think. If he was in his original body, he would have already shaken it off, he thought sullenly.

“Thanks Hood, we’ll be at the cave soon, B.” Nightwing chirped, addressing B in the second half. The line stayed open after B grunted his assent, the sounds of the city and the vigilante’s chatter being able to be heard. Occasionally, sounds of a scuffle were heard but it didn't last very long.

He was right in that there were more vigilantes, Robin and Hood being two that were referenced during conversations over the line most often. He was a bit concerned about Robin though, he sounded… young, younger than Tim was when he first started out in the field.

B drove the car into a remote, out of the way path. They passed a wall of ivy that opened up to a large, illuminated cave littered with a surprising amount of knick-knacks. In the less illuminated areas, he could see the flutter of dark wings here and there. A life-sized dinosaur figure stuck out against its dark surroundings further in the cave, a large card near it, before flitting out of sight.

The whole cave was a technological marvel, he had never seen such devices in his world, and he was known for being the heroes' —well, technically they were vigilantes. The government really has it out for mutants at the moment—technical support. Well, him and Mccoy. Everything was just so advanced compared to his time. Tim thought he saw a deluxe coffee machine, but he couldn't be sure from this far. He would love for a cup of coffee now.

The car stopped abruptly, jarring Tim out of his observations. His fingers were given a small shock when he grabbed onto the hood of the car for support as he exited alongside B. Huh. They should do some work on the car if it's electrocuting people.

B grabbed his shoulders with a quiet “Let's go”, steering him to the medical area of the cave, a thin, crisply dressed elderly man already waiting there, giving him an unimpressed look.

“This is the third time this month, Master Timothy.” The elderly man gestured to the medical bed, obviously intending to check over his concussion. Tim complied silently, wanting to see how this goes. He had no idea what this Tim Drake's—it was just a theory at the moment, gathered from clues he was handed by the other vigilantes, but it seems the most plausible. He would be able to confirm it if he could find a place to use his ability and delve into this body's mind—relationship with this man was, though it was obvious he cared about Tim. The muted worry radiating from the elderly man nearly floored him.

The elderly man raised an eyebrow at Tim as he waved a flashlight over Tim’s eyes, “No excuse this time?”

Tim just gave him a thin smile, not sure what to say to sound like this Tim Drake. He had to be careful, mimicking someone's behaviorism was hard when you had no idea how they acted. For all he knew, this Tim’s—he would have to call him Drake, it was getting a bit confusing at this point—personality was the complete opposite of his.

It wasn't an answer and the elderly man knew it. When he finished checking up on Tim, he watched Tim pop pain medicine in his mouth and maneuvered him to the locker room, telling him to freshen up since he “smelled like the backside of a stable”. Tim didn't know if his advanced healing would transfer to this body, but he rather hoped so. He didn't realize how useful it was until he didn't have it.

A warning of no patrol for the next two days was thrown over the elderly man’s shoulder as he walked away. Tim kept a close eye on the man, watching him exit into an elevator at the other side of the cave before turning back to the showers. That was one way to exit the cave. He would be naive to think that was the only way out. If it were him, he would strategically place multiple exits and entrances around his base.

Tim stripped out of the suit and stepped into the shower. A steady stream of hot water beat harshly on his body, the heat relaxed his muscles and giving him a moment to think on what to do next. First things first, he needed an isolated area and rest. It was hard being in a possible hostile area and trying to not arouse suspicion. Even more so when there would be at least three more trained vigilantes arriving soon. He didn't doubt that they would catch onto him quickly. He was surprised he even made it this far without anyone noticing the difference in behavior.

After he rested, he could search for something that would connect to the internet or give him any information on this world. A library would do if he couldn't find that, but that would mean venturing out of the cave without anyone noticing. It shouldn't be too hard, though, he could be stealthy when he needed to.

Tim stepped out of the showers and grabbed the clothes that were set out for him. It surprised him a little, he hadn't realized he was so out of it that he didn't sense anyone nearby. The elderly man was most likely the one who set it out. What a sneaky old man. It was easy to deduce that he was a servant, one highly trusted for him to know of Drake's vigilante identity, and presumably the rest of the vigilantes.

When he reached the mirror, however, he paused. Sitting there in the mirror was a duplicate of his face. He knew from the monitors and the other devices he passed that this place was at least twenty to thirty years into the future, and yet Drake looked not even five years older than him. He tugged on his shorter hair, lips thinning. This added on to his theory that this wasn't the future in the first place but an alternate world. One where Drake was born decades after he had been, and led a completely different life than him. He needs to know what this world is like, ASAP.

He slipped into the simple knitted sweater and flowy black pants set out for him and swiftly set for the elevator exit. He heard the steady rumble of an engine as the doors were closing. It's a good thing he hadn’t dawdled for too long, he didn't want to interact with the other vigilantes when he still didn't know much about how Drake acted. Nor when his main defense was all but useless.

The ride up was quick and he was deposited in an empty office in no time. It was nothing special, but clearly well-used. Small trinkets laid atop the wooden table and awards lined the shelves. Quietly walking down the halls, Tim realized that this wasn't a random building that was renovated to host vigilantes in its basement, this was a home.

Hand drawn illustrations lined the walls and little scribbles littered the doorways. In some rooms, portraits of a smiling family were hung and little baubles placed around haphazardly. A well-loved wood carving sat on an old fireplace in one of the many rooms he passed. This was a home, and to many if the pictures could be trusted.

He saw his face in many of the images, showing his growth from a lanky preteen to a slim but healthy young adult. Turning one of the images around, he read the neat handwriting, Damian’s 11th birthday party. Another person, based on the difference in handwriting, wrote Can’t wait for next year’s!! with a smiley face scribbled next to it. His eyes lingered on one of the faces, a sense of familiarity filling him.

Entering one of the halls, he eyed the decorative door plates adorning the doors. Walking closer, he realized each door was assigned to the people from the images. Of the six doors, he found ‘Timothy Drake-Wayne’ between the rooms of ‘Cassandra Wayne’ and ‘Duke Thomas’. He traced the small purple star decorating the letter ‘T’ with his finger. Wayne, huh?

He closed the door behind him and locked it, scanning the room. Tim was slightly surprised at how similar it looked to his old room in the mansion. A couple of skateboards hung from a rack and posters lined his walls. A small bookshelf was embedded into the wall, he couldn't recognize some of the book titles. At the left of the room, a door stood slightly ajar, connecting to a small bathroom. Next to that, a small fridge was shoved into the corner of the room. A corkboard bursting with images of a city’s nightlife was mounted next to the single bed. On the bed was a thin rectangular device. Opening it up, it blinked to life, showing a login page.

A computer? This thin? He hadn't expected to see something like this in a long while. It was a bit exciting, actually. He loved the challenge that new technology presented, cracking this computer would be a nice exercise. But first, he needed to know about Drake’s condition.

Tim settled cross-legged on the bed, taking a deep breath before delving into his mind, guiding his ability inward. He landed in a familiar scene, standing in an icy tundra, colorful green and blue aurora borealis danced in the icy blue sky. There was snow as far as the eye could see, white flecked mountains rising in the distance, chunks of snow decorating the barren landscape. As nice as it was to return to his own mind, he wouldn't find what he was looking for here. He needed to go deeper.

Tim ventured further, deeper into this body’s mind. The scene around him warping, lights and images flashing by, passing through the layers of Drake's mind before everything turned pitch black. Distantly, he could hear words he felt he could just make out, but he knew he never would. It was always like this, seeing things you felt you could remember if you had some more time and hearing what you would never understand.

Tim had only been here a handful of times, the Professor warning him not to linger too long, else he’ll become trapped. The unconscious mind was always dangerous for an esper, though Tim trusted in his strength. Looking for Drake’s core wouldn't be easy, but it wasn’t impossible either.

Tim sent out waves of his ability, searching for the densest portion of Drake’s mind. That's usually where he found people when he was perusing their minds. He felt it when a small tendril bumped into what he was looking for. Tim followed the tendril, relieved that Drake wasn't pushed out when Tim had entered his body. He was led to a small red orb, small enough to cup into his hands. Retracting the rest of his tendrils, he lightly brushed over the red orb with his finger.

He was always hesitant to do this part, the orb was a very personal part of Drake, meant for nobody's eyes besides who it belonged to. But he needed to see how Drake was affected by this ordeal. It was dangerous for Drake to be housing such a powerful mind like his, especially since he had the constitution of a baseline human. Even for mutants, it was dangerous, but even more so for Drake. If Tim hadn’t unconsciously suppressed his power the moment he woke up in his body, his powers would have steadily melted Drake’s brain. Tim has seen other espers do as such when they controlled others bodies and he didn't want to do such a thing to Drake. It would be a horrible experience for both of them.

Tim pushed his power into the top layer of the orb, cautious not to go in too deep. Even if he just skimmed the top layer, it was an invasion of Drake’s privacy. He received feedback quickly, the red orb swirling sluggish, flashes of Drake's thoughts and feelings flowing into him.

It seemed that Drake’s mind had immediately gone into shock the moment Tim was shoved into his body and shut down to preserve itself. From what he was getting, Drake wouldn’t remain in this state for long, the orb was already more active than it should have been in this situation. He predicts Drake will wake up in around a day, two at the latest.

Reassured that Drake would be fine, Tim ascended to his own mind, taking the time to relax, if only for a little while. He had quite the day, after all, he deserved a little break.

He only noticed it minutes later, a shimmering green thread that blended in with the lights in the sky. Tim knew his mind in and out, and that hadn't been there before today. He guarded his mind furiously and would never let anyone but a select few in. He stood up and reached for it, pausing right before he touched it.

What if this was a trap from another mutant, meant to poison his mind? He ruled that out immediately. The only mutants that he's been around recently that would be able to do this were Jean and the Professor, and he didn’t believe they would ever try to hurt him.

He had examined his mind only three days before and everything was normal. The only reason this thread could be here was… the dimension travel. This could be a connection to his original body! Tim plucked the string excitedly, only to be violently thrown back to the physical realm. Tim felt lightheaded as he stumbled over to the bathroom and puked his guts out.

He gently laid his head on the bowl of the toilet, trying to catch his breath, the cold tile letting him organize his thoughts. He was being too emotional when he decided on touching the connection. He should have taken the time to think about it, then test it. It wasn't only Tim being hurt, Drake was also in the line of fire. He sighed, he was lucky he suppressed his ability in the nick of time or Drake could have gotten hurt, or worse.

Once he was sure he wouldn't expel his stomach contents again, Tim stood up shakily and flushed the toilet, heading back to the bedroom. Grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, he flopped onto the bed, taking a moment to recover. That was a close call, the civilian lifestyle had really softened him. He would have known better before he took a break from being a vigilante.

A knock sounded at the door, “You okay in there, chum?” A deep voice spoke, muffled from behind the thick wood. He must have been pretty out of it if he couldn't sense B’s presence, it was quite distinctive.

“I'm fine, B. Trying to research here.” Tim pitched his voice, whining pitifully. He didn't have the energy to deal with any of the vigilantes.

A small laugh seeped through the door, "I'll leave you at it then. Make sure to sleep today, okay?" Tim heard the faint footsteps recede. He let out a breath. He really wasn't in a state to interact with the others.

After a couple of minutes, Tim sat up, taking a quick sip of his water and grabbing the thin computer. He had a computer to crack and a world to investigate.

Tim subtly observed the family while he idly fiddled with his laptop, sitting across the living room from them. They were spread out around the room, Damian curled up on a couch scribbling away on his sketchbook as Richard—he went by Dick, strangely enough—chatted away next to him. Bruce sat in an armchair parallel to them, seemingly engrossed in a book, though Tim could tell he was paying attention to his children. Jason was on the other armchair, near the loveseat Tim settled himself on, also sporting a book in his hands. Duke sat beside him, entertaining himself with a handheld telephone.

Tim relocated himself to the parlor when he realized the family of vigilantes were in here, debating whether or not to entrust the vigilantes with his situation. On one hand, they deserved to know this was happening to Drake, he was their family member. On the other, he didn't truly know them and their capabilities, they could harm him. Even though the nap he took earlier helped, he still wasn’t at full power, not that he could use his full power without hurting Drake. His powers were a layer of protection for him. If they figured out a power dampener could affect him, then that protection would be stripped away.

It had become increasingly obvious that the longer he had surfed the web last night that his theory was right, this wasn’t his world. This world housed aliens. Aliens! One had even written a book about his late home planet. Not to mention the gods and goddesses or the existence of magic. This world also had a lot more villains than his, and natural disasters. The list of natural disasters caused because of villains were off the chart. It seemed that the only thing between this world and its demise were the heroes. It was absolutely ridiculous, Tim sighed.

Not even the date was the same. The day before, in his world, it was mid-April 1983. Here, it was August 2023! He was slingshotted forward in space and time. It was no wonder the technology was so advanced, he really was in the future.

He had searched the vigilantes up last night, they were pretty famous, especially Bruce Wayne. He was affiliated with a worldwide team, the Justice League as his alter ego Batman. One of the leading members, actually. They were composed of nearly a hundred heroes spread across the globe, dealing with apocalyptic disasters at least three times each year. Tim was almost jealous of all the heroes in this world before he remembered the world ending disasters they had to deal with. His world only had the X-Men, some individual vigilantes scattered around, and the Brotherhood, which he doesn't think really counts. It technically was a terrorist group, even if they had good intentions for mutants.

While the other vigilantes were not as famous, they were still pretty well respected. Dick was one of the youngest heroes that debuted, appearing nearly 18 years ago under the title Robin. There were rumored to be three Robins after Dick graduated to Nightwing. Tim had heard the most recent Robin over the comms last night and was sitting across the room from him, also known as Damian Wayne from what he connected from the photos lying around the mansion and the few images of Robin online. His stature, skin color, and hairstyle were very obvious indicators that he was Robin if you knew what you were looking for. He was a small thing, not old enough to engage in vigilantism, in Tim’s opinion. Why the rest of the family let him out was a mystery to Tim.

From what he could find online and encrypted on certain files from the computers in the cave, Drake was the third Robin after the second died. The second Robin being a notorious crime lord, the Red Hood. There was probably history between the vigilantes and the second Robin, Jason Todd, for him to turn into a crime lord after being a vigilante previously. Though it seemed that they had gotten past their differences for him to be allowed on the comms, he was bantering and joking around with the rest. Tim did wonder how he came back from death, though.

Many of the other heroes had the same problem of being unable to stay in their graves. Even the civilians couldn't stay dead, mass resurrections bringing many back to life. With magic being common enough in this world, Tim supposed it wasn't too hard to bring people back from the afterlife. Although, Jason’s could have been faked.

Jason had died not too long after Batman made a stable connection with the Justice League. With Batman's paranoid nature, Tim doubted he would bring magic users into Jason’s death. He would more likely keep it to himself and not concern the Justice League with his personal business.

He found the two women in the images scattered around the mansion to be Cassandra Cain-Wayne and Stephanie Brown, Black Bat and Spoiler respectively, though they both tend to switch to Batgirl at times. They weren’t on patrol yesterday, or if they were, he didn't hear them. Tim was interested in Cassandra, wondering why she seemed so familiar before remembering she was a student that regularly dwelled in the mansion. If he remembered correctly, she was taken back to the mansion by Xavier himself a couple years ago.

At some point, Bruce adopted or fostered almost all the vigilantes in Gotham. The four Robins, excluding Damian since he was directly related to Bruce, plus Black Bat were adopted. Signal, or Duke Thomas, became a ward of Bruce after his parents were deemed unfit to raise him. Only Stephanie Brown and Barbara Gordon, the first Batgirl, weren’t adopted or fostered, remaining family friends to the Wayne's.

It was funny, the little boy he met not too long ago being one of the top heroes, surrounded others just like him. It shouldn't have been that shocking, especially with how enamored little Bruce was with the fact Tim was a detective. He amassed quite a large family, but it was at the price of his parent’s lives. He bit his lip, when he returned he would make sure such a thing wouldnt happen.

Tim settled into another position, making himself slightly more comfortable, and turned his attention back to the laptop, absentmindedly tracking their emotions. While he could have lifted most of the information he found from Drake’s mind and made it easier for himself, he didn't want to mess with Drake’s psyche any further. The situation they were in was unheard of and he wouldn't know how additional meddling would affect Drake.

A new presence lurked closer to the room, Tim doubted anyone else noticed when she entered, she was very light on her feet. She sat herself down next to him, her curiosity drifted over to him. He nodded at her in greeting when he caught her eye and turned his attention back to Drake’s laptop, hoping she wouldn't start a conversation just yet. There was still a lot he hadn't uncovered about Drake and his family. Drake had masterfully set protections to his laptop, cracking them was an interesting experience for Tim.

He felt a poke against his sternum, a question following, “Who are you?”

Tim blinked, turning to Cassandra. He blinked, how had she figured him out already? This was their first meeting. Distantly, he could sense a myriad of confusion saturating the room. The sound of a pencil scratching and pages being flipped stopped.

Cassandra stared at him, face serious. Tim tentatively brushed his ability against her, ignoring the pain, feeling her confidence that he wasn’t Drake. While he expected to be outed—he didn't think he could really act as Drake without being caught—he didn't think it would be so soon. He thought he would have more time and be the one telling them that he wasn't Drake.

“How do you know I'm not him?” Tim asked curiously, tilting his head. So far, he hasn't really been around the others, this being his first time. The only exception being Bruce, but even that wasn’t more than 10 minutes. The others in the room tensed.

“You act differently. Walking and talking unlike Tim.” She parsed out. Tim licked his lips. He hadn't considered his gait to expose him. Then again, there really was nothing he could have done to match how Drake walked. He wondered if this Cassandra was also an empath.

“This is our first time meeting, when did you see me walking?” He closed the laptop, ignoring the alarm radiating from the others.

“The suit records.” She answered, more than a little amused, but that didn't overshadow her unease. She didn't like that a stranger was posing as her brother, he concluded.

“Oh.” He should have known that the suits had cameras. Had it been him, he also would have added any recording equipment he could for evidence. Tim didn't doubt that she also pulled a recording from the cave. If it didn't have cameras every couple of feet, he would eat his boots, the extraordinary bedazzled ones he was jokingly gifted in fact.

“Who are you?” A deep voice asked. Bruce stood tense a few steps away from him, his eyes flitting once to Cassandra and back to him. The man could be stealthy when he wanted, Tim hadn't even heard him move, a stark contrast to his child self. Behind him, Dick and Damian also stood. Jason’s hand was placed in his back pocket, obviously wielding a weapon, observing him with narrowed eyes.

Tim smiled blandly, simply saying, “Timothy Drake. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Cut the bullshit! Who are you really?” Jason spat, a gun in hand. Bruce looked displeased at the weapon but said nothing, his eyes not leaving Tim.

“Not lying.” Cassandra said quietly. Many looks of surprise were leveled at him and Cassandra.

“I am Timothy Drake, just not one you've met before. I suspect dimension travel.” Tim explained. A flurry of words and numbers were spat from Bruce’s mouth, none making sense to Tim. It was probably a code, one that a Tim Drake from another world would presumably know. They were expectant despite their stoic faces. Unfortunately for them, they wouldn't get the answer they wanted.

“Sorry, no idea what that code is supposed to mean.” He shrugged. There was a bit of disappointment before it swiftly turned into suspicion.

“What did you do to Drake? Where is he?” Damian asked, a furrow in his brow, clenching a small dagger he pulled from somewhere. He was obviously worried about Drake, he would be concerned too if a stranger took over his sibling’s body.

“He’s up here, no need to worry.” Tim tapped his temple, softening his words for the young boy.

“He’s still in there? Can he hear us? ” Jason questioned, palming his gun.

“I didn't throw him out of this body, if that's what you're asking.” Tim answered. “And he’s just asleep for now. He should wake up soon.”

“How soon?” Cassandra peered closer, staring at his eyes as if she would see Drake through them.

“Give him a day or so. Maybe two.” Tim estimated, leaning back. Cassandra was getting far too close for comfort.

“How did you get here? Why did you take over Tim’s body?” Bruce spoke again in a demanding tone.

“You're saying that as if I wanted to be here, surrounded by strangers.” Tim deadpanned, focussing on Bruce’s second question. He knows that Bruce is just protective over Drake, but he couldn't stand being talked at like that. A soft caress against his arm made him pause, Cassandra looking at him urgingly, her desire for a peaceful encounter and the love she felt for her family filling the space.

He pursed his lips, taking a breath to calm down. This interrogation would get worse if he was agitated. He knew how annoying he could get when he was spiteful.

“Strangers?” Dick asked, surprised. In fact, the others all emitted surprise even if it didn't show on their faces. He knew that they encountered versions of themselves from other dimensions, the evidence being the code, but was it so surprising that he had never met versions of them before?

“I've never met any of you before, well, except for Bruce. Why’s that so surprising?” Tim crossed his arms, leaning slightly harder on the cushion behind him.

“The other Drakes that came here before you all knew of us.” Damian responded with a huff. Jason and Dick hummed in agreement. Duke finally spoke, asking, “Wait, you only met Bruce? No one else?” Why were they so hung on that?

“Bruce is the only one I've met face to face, but the one I met is very different to him.” Tim jutted his chin towards Bruce. “There is a Cassandra in my world, but I only know of her. I never encountered her personally.”

“How different can he be, it's Bruce.” Jason drawled, a sour, bitter feeling wafted from him with surprising strength. Seems like there was still some discontent within their relationship.

“In my world, hes a child and nothing like this.” Tim gestured towards Bruce, trying to fully encompass his dour disposition without words. A brief, stunned silence filled the room. Damian steered the conversation back, questioning him with a deep frown, “How long have you been in Drake’s body?”

“It's only been a day. I woke up in the middle of the fight with the Riddler.” He replied, drumming his fingers on his thighs.

“How did you get here?” Bruce repeated, stepping closer to Tim. Tim frowned, not liking his accusatory tone. The urge to bite back flared but a small nudge from Cassandra reminded him to calm down. He always did have a bit of a temper.

“How do I know you're trustworthy?” Tim shot back. He wouldn't tell them anything unless he knew he could trust them. Even if they were vigilantes, that didn't mean they were reliable. He’s come across many vigilantes who didn't have the best characters.

“You're in our brother’s body. We can't attack you without also hurting him.” Jason answered bluntly. While that made a compelling argument, it wasn't enough.

“And if I find a way out? You’ll hurt me then?” Tim narrowed his eyes.

“How do we know you are trustworthy?” Dick threw his question back at him. “How do we know you are who you say you are?”

Tim chewed on his lips, beginning to respond before Dick continued.

“Just as you have no way of knowing if we speak truthfully, we also have no guarantee you're doing the same. We are heroes,” Dick gestured towards his fellow vigilante, “and we help people no matter what. For us to help you, we need to all be willing to communicate as best as we can. After all, you are only as good as your word, no?” Dick said, a bit forcefully, though softened at the end, staring imploringly at Tim.

That's true, there wasn't much they could do right now that would make him trust them and vice versa. But he still had his reservations about them. “I've met heroes who weren't such good people, so that's not really as good of a point you think it is.”

If he declined to share why he was in Drake’s body, worst case scenario, they would attack him and he would be outnumbered. Best case scenario, they would lock him up until they found a way to bring Drake back in control. If he did trust them, he could receive the resources to get home. They did have connections to a team that resided in all parts of the world.

Tim thought over his options for a moment, thinking on which choice he was willing to take. He looked at Cassandra, she quietly looked back at him, waiting for him to make his decision. He would just have to take a leap of faith, Tim sighed.

“Coming here was an accident.” Tim revealed, deciding to only explain the bare bones of his situation. “This,” he gestured to Drake’s body, “was the result of a mutant unable to control his ability.”

“Mutant?” Bruce asked, his voice lowering. The shift in his presence was almost tangible with how quickly it changed.

“Someone who possesses the X-gene. It gives them powers, basically.” Bruce’s face relaxed a smidge, his presence lightening.

“That is just a meta.” Damian said, his eyebrow raising. “His ability is to travel between dimensions, then?”

“Most likely. This is the first time he's done something like this, we believed he only had teleportation. He’d been having issues with his abilities before this happened. It's why I was even there, to help him with his abilities.” Tim answered.

“Abilities, plural? How many does he have?” Jason finally dropped his gun, leaning towards Tim. The others seemed curious too. Was it that surprising that Elijah had multiple abilities?

“Yes? He has—” Tim paused, counting them on his fingers before he spoke,“—around four? Five? And those are just the ones we know about. He only manifested them recently, so the lack of control isn't surprising.” He looked up from his fingers, surprise and apprehension clouding the air of the room. Tim tilted his head slightly, confused at their reactions. Sure, a mutant with that many abilities isn't common, but they aren’t rare either. Maybe that was different in this world?

“We? Who else is there?” Jason raised his eyebrow.

“The school…” Tim began hesitantly, he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to expose it, but then again, it was in another dimension. They would have a hard time accessing it to begin with, not to mention with the X-Men protecting it. “It's for the protection and teaching of mutants about their abilities. It also serves as a regular school as well.”

“Did you attend?” Cassandra asked at the same time Dick said, “Protecting them from what?”

“I graduated some time ago.” Tim addressed Cassandra before focusing on Dick, “And there are a lot of Anti-Mutant laws and hate groups going around. That happens when the public's first exposure to mutants was one trying to assassinate the president.”

“They tried to kill the president?! Why?” Duke looked vaguely horrified, and so did the others.

“Beats me.” Tim shrugged, lying through his teeth. He studied the first mutant exposure thoroughly, there's no way he wouldn't with the Professor being involved. It would have taken too long to explain in full why Magneto and Mystique did what they did. “I was just a kid then.”

“How did he pull you into this dimension? And why were you asked to help him?” Dick steered the subject back on track.

“He trapped himself in his mind and I was the only other person available to help him. Simple as that.” Tim spoke haltingly. “Are we done with the 20 questions? I need to find a way back home.”

“What do you mean by—?” Damian started before getting cut off.

“We have to run some tests. Follow me.” Bruce said abruptly, standing up and walking out of the door. The others stood up too, Cassandra skipping over to Damian and guiding him forward with her hand on his shoulder, a scowl on his face. It was a reasonable request, he would also want to test what the effects were if someone possessed his family member’s body. He followed the group, Jason walking behind him.

“Sooo…” Dick started, slowing down to walk level with him, swinging his arms. “You truly never met us before?��

“No, I haven't. Should I have?” Tim snarked, staring straight ahead. That was the third time he was asked that question. Were they really that surprised that an alternate version of Drake never met them? The multiverse was infinite, there were bound to be versions of himself that haven’t encountered them at all.

Dick laughed, waving his arms in denial. Behind them, Jason snorted quietly, murmuring something under his breath.

“How old are you anyway?” Dick asked, tugging a lock of hair behind his ear.

“Seventeen. Why?” Tim glanced over, slightly curious on where this was going.

“Just curious.” Dick answered casually. “Our Tim is twenty.” Tim had guessed Drake was around that age range, but it was nice to get a confirmation.

The group arrived at the office with the entrance to the cave, swinging the clock open and shuffling down the stairs. Even if it wasn't his first time looking at it, the cave still looked amazing. The stalagmites shimmered in the dim lightning, the rustle of bats flying between them could be heard.

Tim was led to another medical station, this one holding more advanced machinery and equipment, a large screen and processor lined the far wall of the room. The group settled near him as he sat down on a medical cot, Bruce shuffling through the cabinets deeper in the room. Damian and Dick sat on the chairs left to the cot, Jason preferring to lean on the wall next to the doorway. Cass claimed the foot of the cot, the closest to him and Bruce.

A brief silence settled over them after Bruce left the room with a subtle but pointed look towards Dick, Jason eventually breaking it, “So, kid, how are you holding up? I'm sure it's pretty strange, suddenly being in another dimension a couple years ahead of yours.”

“It’s 1983 where I’m from, not the 2000s. And I'm not a kid, I just want to go back to my dimension quickly.” Tim replied, looking at his feet. He shifted in his cot as he felt the emotions in the room go to surprise and amusement.

“Woah, you're ancient.” Jason said humorously, a smirk gracing his lips. Tim leveled him with an unamused stare. Dick smiled widely as Damian let out an amused huff.

“Old-timer.” Cassandra teased, earning her a glare from Tim.

“No wonder he knew Bruce as a kid.” Duke added, eyes crinkled from his smile.

“Are you guys not going to introduce yourselves?” Tim questioned. Jason glanced at him, slightly amused. “Don't you already know our names?”

“I do, but it would be polite, no?” Tim smiled back. The rest of the room had various reactions of amusement, Damian and Cassandra smiling slightly as Jason and Dick laughed. Duke simply rolled his eyes.

Dick smiled at Tim before introducing them, “The one in the black turtleneck,” Damian nodded in greeting, “—is Damian. Jason is the one standing.” Jason gave a small wave. “Cass is the one sitting next to Damian.” She gave him a nod. He rested his hand over his chest and finished with, “And I'm Dick!”

“What about the old man? Bruce? The other two vigilantes?” Tim tilted his head, curious.

“The ‘old man’ is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the one who keeps everyone in check.” Damian primly responded. “Father’s name is Bruce Wayne.” Cassandra signed the name next to him.

Jason pulled out a phone and swiped at the screen before showing it to Tim. “The one in purple, Spoiler, is Steph. Batwing, Luke, is the one with the wings. Obvious, I know.” He joked.

Bruce reentered the room, holding an assortment of equipment. Setting them down on the table next to the cot, he held up a small syringe, gesturing for Tim’s arm. Tim blanched but complied, ready to get this over with. He only felt a small pinch as the needle entered the crook of his arm, it was removed a few seconds later, filled with his blood. Bruce simply placed a surprisingly cute yellow bandage with mini bats over the puncture.

The rest of the tests were quite non-invasive, mostly consisting of scanning him and simple examinations. It was as if Tim was visiting the doctors for a checkup. The younger vigilantes kept him company throughout the tests, chatting casually with him from time to time. He wasn't under any illusions that it was for him, they were just monitoring a threat that was in their home.

Still… It was nice, just sitting down and chatting with others for a change. He didn't really have time before that, going from case to case and rarely visiting the mansion. Tim felt a little guilty, neglecting his friends in favor of his new job as a detective wasn't right. He’ll have to make it up to them, as soon as he goes back, he promised.

Tim noticed that Bruce had repeated some of the tests after a while, coming back to redo his scans after checking over the machine that it was connected to. From what he could tell from his angle, the screens on the machine displayed a large, yellow popup, though he couldn't read what it said. Was there something wrong with the equipment? Or was the residue of Elijah’s power messing with the results?

Dick walked out the room with an excuse of getting a drink for all of them. There was a small surge of determination and affirmation between them that caught him off guard. Tim doubted he would have caught the look shared between them if he couldn't feel their emotion.

When Dick reentered the room, he indeed had drinks, passing around bottles of fruit juice. Tim popped open the cap of his mango juice, taking small sips as he quietly watched the group converse with each other. The atmosphere in the room was nice, if a bit guarded. He felt a new presence arrive suddenly but dismissed it, believing it to be another vigilante.

“How many of you guys are there, anyway?” Tim wondered. There was just one after the other with them.

“Oh, there’s us—” Dick gestured towards the group, “—so that's six already. There's also Steph, Barbara, Kate, Luke, and sometimes Azrael. So, in total eleven.”

“Wow, that's… a lot. Just for one city?” What warranted eleven vigilantes for only one city?

“Yup. Gotham might be a shithole, but she’s all we got.” Jason answered gruffly, fondness coloring his tone.

The presence Tim had felt earlier came closer until they rounded the corner, entering the room. They were draped in a dark robe, ending just above their pale calf. The hood shadowed their face, the robe obscured their figure, making it harder for Tim to figure out whether they were male or female. The figure walked over to talk with Bruce, their back to him.

Tim turned towards Dick, silently asking who that was. Dick gave him a strained smile,“This is Raven. She’s here to confirm your story.”

Tim wasn’t really surprised that Dick had called someone to verify his story, he would have done the same. He just wished he was told some time before she arrived.

“So she’s also here to interrogate me?” Tim frowned, crossing his arms. Dick winced, explaining, “Not quite, she’ll be checking whether Tim is still in his body.”

“Excuse me?” Tim was slightly offended, they wanted some stranger to poke around in his head?

“We couldn't be certain you were speaking truthfully. Or if there are certain pitfalls in your mind that would cause you to hurt us. We’ve dealt with that before and it wasn’t pretty.” Dick said apologetically. Even if it was a reasonable reaction, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Raven moved to remove her hood, the sight beneath freezing Tim in place. A copy of Jean’s face laid under the hood, only small differences setting her apart from Jean. On her pale skin, a jewel was inlaid on Raven’s forehead. Her hair and eyes were a deep violet, glowing slightly in the light. He knew that this was a different dimension and that, logically, there would be other versions of his friends, Cassandra being just one example. He hadn’t expected to face one so soon. Raven’s curiosity ballooned the longer Tim stared at her.

“You know her or somethin’?” Jason spoke, looking between the two. The other four were also interested in his response.

“Or something. She looks just like my friend.” Tim answered as he finally stopped examining Raven’s face, clasping his hands together.

“Is that so?” Raven said, even her voice was similar to Jean’s. She walked closer until she stood right in front of him. “I’ll be starting now.”

She kneeled down, her robes pooling over her lower body as their faces aligned. He felt her ability brush over him and hit his mental walls. Her abilities felt completely different from Jean’s, icy cold to Jean’s warmth. The way it flowed differed from Jean’s too. Raven’s swirled gracefully in nonsensical patterns, while Jean’s resembled liquid fire. Even if Raven’s outer appearance looked like Jean, that didn't mean she was.

She blinked in surprise at his resistance. He hadn't told the vigilantes much about his ability, so it wasn’t too surprising. She should know, as a person with a mental ability, that those with such abilities guard their minds tightly. While it could be strong against outsiders, one good hit inside a mindscape would cause great harm.

“Won’t you let me in?” She asked softly. Tim narrowed his eyes before letting out a breath, unbundling the protections in his mind as he lowered most of his shields. Even if he was rightfully wary of letting a stranger in his mind, he wouldn't be able to use his full power to defend himself against her attempts.

She slid into his mind before once more hitting a wall. He resisted her attempts to break into that last shield before he spoke, “Wait!” The room paused, the others wondering what he would say. “Shouldn’t we agree on what exactly she will look for? Or at least filled me in first?” He directed the last question to Dick who gave him a sheepish smile and scratched his head.

“She’ll be looking for evidence that you were honest about taking over Tim’s body and how he's fairing.” Bruce responded, stepping closer to the pair of espers. That was reasonable. He was just double-checking what Tim told him.

He chewed his lips before spitting out, “Nothing five minutes before I entered this body, got it?”

“Of course.” She answered, gently sinking into his mind when he lowered his last defenses. Tim also closed his eyes, reappearing in his mindscape, the icy wind picking up as Raven materialized before him. She looked around, giving him a reassuring smile when she turned to him. He could feel the promise to not hurt him emanating from her. Her power swelled as her hands began to glow, spreading her ability in search of his memory of the day before. He guided her ability with his own, bringing her to a cave carved into a distant mountainside.

The cave was dimly lit, snow piling up at the entrance. The center held a clear underground lake which he delved his ability into, the lake’s serene surface rippling before changing into his memories of being in Elijah’s mind. He knelt down at the edge of the lake, gesturing for Raven to do the same. Once she did, he grabbed her hand and submerged them both into the lake with a shout of surprise from Raven.

He opened his eyes, the scene of him and Jean attacking the nebula together spreading before him. Raven studied the surrounding scene, weaving her ability into the fabric of the scene, looking for any falsehoods. Once she was satisfied, he saw the exact moment she finally focused on the previous forms of him and Jean, radiating surprise despite her face showing otherwise.

She turned to him, stating surely, “This is the one you mistook me as.”

Tim nodded. They looked astonishingly alike and yet were extremely different, down to the way they felt. Jean was like a warm ray of sunlight and Raven an icy glacier, polar opposites. Raven hummed and turned back to the scene, watching it play out to the point he woke in Drake’s body.

“Would you be willing to guide me to Black Bird?” She asked, not wanting to infringe on his mind when he could resist her. It was a common courtesy to ask when in another esper’s mind, though he couldn't be sure if it was the same in this world.

He held out his hand and she grasped it, closing his eyes again as they sunk beneath his mindscape. The distant whispering caused him to open his eyes to pitch black, though he could still see Raven. She seemed unconcerned, most likely having been to the unconscious mind before or assured of her strength. It was probably a mix of both.

Tim pointed to a far off point, “He’s over there, you’ll know when you see him.”

Raven nodded in thanks and sent a wave of her ability in that direction, tilting her head after a moment. He felt her ability recede before she began walking, approaching the red orb after a moment. She lightly brushed her fingers over it, doing the same he had done the day before. After finding her assessment of Drake’s core satisfactory, she faced him, a small smile on her face.

“I'm glad that you are who you say you are.” Yeah, so is he, Tim thought sarcastically. Though he did understand where she was coming from. She let out a quiet chuckle, giving him an amused look. They returned to Tim’s mindscape, the pool at their feet.

“What is her name?” Raven asked, looking at the memory. Tim looked at Jean’s figure, the memory looping back to the beginning.

“Her name was Jean, Jean Grey. She’s one of the few people I truly respect.”

“Later,” Raven began, “Will you tell me about her?”

“If you wish me to. I would be willing to get to know you also.” He was curious about her and how her life strayed from the one Jean had. She was an alternate of Jean, so had to give her a chance.

Raven agreed before retreating from his mind, the last tendrils of her ability going with her. He did one last sweep of his mindscape, noting nothing was off except the glowing tether to his original body, and exited.

Opening his eyes, he was faced with Drake’s family surrounding him and Raven. Raven leaned back, their foreheads no longer touching, and nodded to the family.

“He was being truthful. Black Bird is unconscious but will wake soon.” Raven reported. They noticeably relaxed, relieved. He felt a small piece of her ability brush against the outer layer of his mind, Raven expressing that she would be by soon. After he nodded in affirmation, she stood, walking over to talk with Dick and Bruce.

“Well, that's out of the way now.” Jason said nonchalantly. He detached himself from the wall he was leaning on and sat on the cot, next to Tim. Cassandra laid her feet over Jason’s lap with a grin. Jason lightly swatted her feet before ignoring her.

“I would have appreciated a warning.” Tim deadpanned, eyebrow raised.

“We couldn't have you preparing yourself until she came.” Damian remarked, eyeing him with interest. He looked relaxed, not quite as tense as before. Tim hummed, looking over to the trio talking at the doorway.

They were clearly at the end of their conversation, Raven splitting away from the pair with a goodbye. She glanced back, making eye contact with him, and waved. After he returned the wave, she vanished with a flash of purple. Huh, Jean definitely couldn't do that. If she did, he was sure he would have heard of it.

Dick and Bruce returned, Dick sitting in the chair next to Damian while Bruce placed the testing equipment to where they were previously, leaning on the chair Dick was sitting on when he was finished.

"So what should we call you? I can’t keep calling you other-Tim in my head." Dick began, tapping his fingers against his thighs. The others nodded in agreement.

“I don't mind being called by a nickname. I call this Tim ‘Drake’ after all.” Tim replied. He really couldn't care less what they referred to him as.

“Any preferences?” Dick asked, a gleam forming in his eyes.

“None.” He saw Damian and Jason grimacing at his answer. Cassandra silently giggled in the background. What was that about?

“How about… Timmykins.” Dick cooed teasingly. Tim physically recoiled from that atrocity of a nickname. Suddenly, he understood what their reactions were about.

“No!” Tim quickly shouted. His pride would never recover if he was referred to as that. He couldn't even think it, that was how bad it was.

“I thought you had no preferences.” Dick blinked innocently, as if he didn’t say a nickname that curdled his blood. Tim huffed at that, a little amused. Dick was clearly livening up the room, making jokes, even if said jokes sucked.

“Then what about—” Jason joined in on the fun, mirth filling the room.

They spent some time going through options on what Tim would be called, even Bruce and Damian contributed some names. They eventually settled simply on Timmy, though he doubted Jason and Dick would stick to it. They would definitely cycle through a myriad of nicknames. He could admit that he had some fun, spending time with them and debating over the nickname. Perhaps he would enjoy his time with these strange characters during his stay in this world.

Takes place before Dark Phoenix and after X-Men: Apocalypse

Kind of a silly concept but i'm having fun with it :)

[Edited: 07/26/2024]

Masterpost | Chapter 2 >>

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neptune-midheaven · 4 years

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💓 Astro Notes PT 4 ! 💓

+i’m back!! i’ll be posting more ever since school ended for me recently, expect a lot more posts going in-depth about each placement!! thank u all so much for being patient, love to you all <33. enjoy these highly generalized observations haha+

*Having your chart ruler in the social houses, 1st, 7th, 10TH, 11TH, sometimes 3rd is a sign of popularity, someone who works well with people, people naturally liking them, seeing them as friendly people, the planet of the chart ruler just affects the exact energy, how it’s expressed what they’re popularrr FOR. Even if it’s pluto the person will still be a magnetic and intense influence in this area.

*Moon-uranus aspects can become addicted to their phones or the internet as the person emotionally depends on technology, it’s more exemplified with the harsher, tighter aspects.

*It’s possible for aquarius and gemini venuses to identify as asexual, they’re more likely to prefer more mentally stimulating romances rather than sexual encounters, detached natures in their relationships can be the root for this. This is a highly generalized opinion however, it could manifest far differently for ANYONE.

*Pluto in 1st conjunct the ascendant creates intenseee people, they draw a lot of people to them, everyone has their attention.

*People who have part of fortune in their 8th house live a long life, they have luck with escaping death.

*Multiple capricorn placements and the risings especially are veeeinyy, skinny and bony.

*Jupiter in 10th have a reputation for being jolly, fun and extroverted, travels a lot, their careers have to do with the foreign and studies, they’re especially known for being very educated and big humanitarians.

*Moon in 10th, moon-midheaven is known for crying a lot in public, they’re seen having meltdowns, breakdowns or emotional outbursts now and then.

*Moon-neptune were very close to their mothers at a young age, they always cried when she wasn’t near them.

*Sun-neptune were close to their fathers as children, both of these neptune aspects are dependent on how positive or negative the aspect is, positive denotes positive relations, negative being a sign of abandonment or disconnect from one of the parents or both if the individual has both aspects.

*Moon in leo/5th hate when they can’t express themselves and their emotions.

*Pisces mercury/12th house mercury are more likely to develop speech impediments, stutters. There’s just something unique about how they communicate as well.

*Libra in 6th are lazyy planners, they meet a lot of love interests and get crushes at work.

*You’ll experience strong, irresistible attraction toward the sign ruling your 8th house cusp, almost telepathic. 7th house cusp is the energy of the partners whom you attract, date, fall in love with.

*Neptune/pisces in 11th have friends who try to introduce them to drugs, friends can be toxic, draining depending on the condition of neptune, sorry to taurus and some gemini risings.

*Venus in 10th/11th in a chart automatically makes the person an extrovert, a good social worker.

*How tf do i come up with these.

*Having your 9th house ruler in 5th makes traveling seem like a hobby, a fun activity to you to entertain yourself or something you enjoy. These people want to travel everyday. They’re also lovers of learning, they look for smart, educated partners.

*Having your 2nd house ruler in 9th house means a job that involves traveling, making money over seas.

*Cappy suns are huge huge HUGE social creatures. Or the complete opposite.

*Uranus in 11th can make new friends crazy fast due to uranus’ quick! energy, just like lightning. Online, they can gain followers the same way, but their numbers always fluctuate or become spontaneously unstable ex: follow:like ratio could be out of wack.

*Mars in 12th love playing violent video games, like gta for example.

*Uranus in 4th could have an unstable family life if negatively aspected, a stimulating and revolutionizing one if they’re positive.

*Libra moons feel emotionally satisfied once a tense situation is smoothed over or balanced out, imbalance or chaos puts them on edge.

*Pisces suns can never figure out who they truly are as a person because of so much exposure to so many different things, morphing and adapting changes them sm bc they’re so mutable.

*Aries moons can be seen as people pleasers similar to libra moons, however it’s only in a way that they truly care just like libra, they care passionately about the people they love. This doesn’t necessarily make them people pleasers of course!! It’s only an aries-libra parallel.

*Saturn in 9th have delays in getting their degrees, it’ll become easier for them to graduate college after their saturn return.

*Mercury in 4th//cancer have excellent memories, they often make fantastic historians, someone who can keep track of the past. Real estate, home business/ careers would best suit them. They also have lovely voices 😻.

*Mutable mercuries’ speaking style is highly influenced by others, they can adapt to the specific speaking styles of others, adapt to unique communication styles from other people.

*Aries rising produces the most red heads out of all of the rising signs, next being leo.

*12th house stellium people feel so... watery

*Youll feel more empathetic and connected to those who share your moon sign or 12th house placements, any placement at all as you of course can be nice, understanding and a bit empathetic, however these two are far more potent and unifying.

*Aquarius placements mean you don’t take whatever planet is in this sign or house this sign rules seriously, it creates a sense of detachment from that area or part of your life.

*Contrary to belief, fires moons are more empathetic than water moons.

*Mercury in 12th people, i love y’all so much ughhh, you’re so sweet and gooeyy, ur ideas and mind are so important and gorgeous. Very artistic and soft minds, fragile thoughts that need to be encouraged by others closest to them. They’re usually very smart and especially talented and creative.

*Water moons have THE prettiest eyes, all of them are just gems swirling with colorful, vibrant soul.

*Moon conjunct ascendant can have their moods being visibly shown on their faces or expressions.

*Scorpio moons are intense but very attractive, it’s hard to keep your eyes off of them and their compelling auras.

*Libra risings can experience getting ignored in group settings. Virgo in 12th could promote this as they’re always hard working behind the scenes it’s almost neglected.

*Aquarius risings have this cute, quirky vibe about them which makes you want to be friends with them.

*Your moon in someone else’s 11th house is indicative of the house person feeling as though they can open up to you, that you two understand one another completely. It’s a very open minded and comforting synastry emotionally.

#libra #cancer #leo #virgo #scorpio #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #taurus #gemini #aries #sagittarius #astro notes #astrologyobservations #astrology

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adobe-outdesign · 2 years

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I’m curious. What are your thoughts on latios and latias, one of my favorite legendaries thanks to Pokémon heroes?

I guess the thing with the Lati-s is that they never seemed to have that much of a focused concept behind them. They're based off of jets, sure, but the 'dex just talks about them being intelligent or being able to turn invisible, but also they understand emotions well, and also their title is "eon Pokemon", whatever that means. I feel like the lack of concept muddles these two a bit, as you end up with a big mash of stuff that doesn't really go together. Even dragon/psychic typing feels random--no flying-type for a jet Pokemon?

I bring this up in part because we know from this piece of concept art:

That Blaziken and Latias (and arguably Latios by extension) were once one Pokemon that were split apart in development. Aside from explaining some oddities in the 'dex (mentioning that they have feathers, despite them looking mostly smooth in their final designs), I also feel like this is the source of the lack of focus, at least in part. Not to say that the above really has a clear theme either, but the fact that Latias/Latios are basically the leftovers from an earlier design wouldn't have been helping anything from a development standpoint.

The one thing I can say is that these two have fun personalities in the movie and are fairly memorable in that respect, but that's also not canon to the games. And outside of that, there's not a lot going on here.

Anyway, with all of that said, Latias is fine enough design-wise, though not terribly memorable. I like the marking on the head and the way the white kind of streaks into the red, giving it "motion lines" of sorts that make it look like it's flying. The two sharing each other's triangle colors is a nice touch as well.

In terms of things that aren't working as well, the anime-style under mouth bugs me. I feel like it should come open at the bottom of the marking, which would both look more natural but would also be cuter.

The arms also look out of place, mostly because they're very ovalur while the rest of the design is angular and sharp (see the concept art again, where the limbs were more angular and thus fit a bit better). You could make them more angular, though given they they tend to tuck them in you honestly probably could've dropped them completely.

And finally, the stub tail looks a bit off. I would've liked to see something spikier back there, to resemble the flames from a jet or something.

Also, the eye should have been blue to match the chest marking, and so the colors match Latio's red eyes and markings.

Most everything I said with Latias applies to Latios, as the designs are very similar. I've mentioned before that I'm not fond of legendaries that look too similar to each other, and while it's somewhat justified here (as they're almost sexually dimorphic versions of the same species, though I don't think the games have ever said this) I do wish they had been differentiated a bit more. In particular, it feels like the wings could've been positioned differently (maybe Latios only has one on the back or something), and the markings on Latios could've been circles instead of triangles or something.

Between the two, I do prefer Latios a bit. The body just looks more streamlined and coherent, especially around the tail or the lack thereof.

Unfortunately, the megas do the exact opposite of what I would've liked to see happen, making the two look near-identical (the only difference is size, eye color, and the arms being reversed) instead of differentiating them more.

It's just such a weird choice from a design standpoint. The colors are particularly baffling; Latias being red and Latios being blue both helped differentiate the two but were also what you'd associate with them, so why make them both purple?

In a weird way, these feel more like a fusion of the two than a mega. The purple is a combo of red and blue, the designs are the same, they have Latio's head marking but Latia's tail, ect ect. If that was the case, they might work better, but as-is they kind of just amplify the problems already present in the Lati-s to begin with.

Aside from that, the way the legs are separated from the rest of the body and form this weird rounded shape with the underbelly and back is really unpleasant, and lacks the speed implied with their original designs. The bodies are almost too round, while the random points near their mouths are just kind of there. They can't decide if they want to be round or smooth, and this weird combo isn't working well. Though with all that said, I do like the arms, which feel unique compared to the original designs and could work if the rest of the body was more coherent.

So overall, the original Lati-s are fine for what they are, but they lack a clear conceptual focus, which holds them back a bit. The megas, meanwhile, look way too similar to add anything meaningful to the line. At least the movie was memorable.

#latias #latios #pokemon #pokemon reviews #.gif

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snifflesthemouse · 3 years

Text

This morning, I read an article titled “I went undercover in the sinister world of Meghan Markle hate accounts" posted to Refinery 29. The title gives the impression of a journalist disguising one’s self as a “Meghan Markle hater” for the sake of getting to the bottom of something. However, the content of the article is nothing like its title.

Before I go further, let me stress the importance of perspective. My post isn’t an attack on the article’s author. I’ve never even heard of the author before now, and I’ve no right or reason to attack a perfect stranger because I vehemently disagree with the content of their work. Making assumptions about someone solely on what they write is lazy and sloppy in my opinion. I may be lazy and sloppy, but a hypocrite I try not to be. Therefore, go forward remembering my issues are with content, not creator.

The article starts out explaining the origins of the term “Megxit”. It continues with other hashtags, conspiracy theories, and so on. The article even mentions various media platforms “attacking" the Duchess, as well as crude posts witnessed by the author.

Then the name dropping begins. First with Murky Meg, then Sue Blackhurst, then According2Taz, then Skippyv20 on Tumblr, then Yankee Wally. Eventually, names of Royal Rota journalists are dropped. Then people like Angela Levin and Omid Scobie get mentioned, with interviews from the latter. Instead of an undercover sting, we get a “Who’s Who" of Megxit, a few anonymous Sussex Squad quotations, and Omid trying his best to be fair.

What this article accomplishes is very little when it comes to objectivity. The title is a misconception, and the content essentially paints targets on the backs of the people the author carelessly considers “Meghan Markle Haters". The article reduces anyone who disagrees with Meghan’s behavior as racist, misogynist, conspiracy theorist nutters. So, not only is the content of the article sloppy and lazy, it also lacks originality. We’ve all heard this sad song-and-dance number a million times.

I guess at face value, it becomes very easy, effortless really, for outsiders looking in to reduce an entire group of people with similar views to the basic stereotypes as old as time. It takes very little thought, consideration, or critical analysis, to assume things because they seem to correlate. But correlation is not causation. Just because some people opposing of Meghan Markle’s behavior happen to be racist doesn’t mean every single opposing person is also racist. Again, lazy and sloppy.

Just like assuming every single Meghan Markle fan is also vegan, anti-monarchy, feminist, woke warriors is downright sloppy and lazy. This author has personally interacted with and found common ground with Sussex Squad people many times. Some even became social media friends. They believe what they do, and I believe what I do. We do not agree with most things regarding Harry and Meghan, but we do agree to disagree and be civil.

So, contrary to the article, not all people “hate" Meghan Markle just because they detest her behavior. It’s important to remember extremes exist for all spectrums. Every topic, especially those politicized or made popular by media platforms, have extremes. There is no denying the fact that there are people who hate Meghan Markle because of her ethnicity. Those extremists who hate Meghan for her ethnicity ironically do not discriminate, though. If they hate her for her ethnicity, they hate ALL people of that same ethnicity.

On the flip side of this coin, is the other extreme. The face is the same on each side because the face represents extremism. There is no denying the fact that there are extremists who see anyone opposing Meghan as racists. Extremists who, by default, view every issue in the world through the lens of racism. While racism is a serious problem that deserves no place in society, assuming racism is the root cause of every conflict is also lazy and sloppy. And the same could be said that these extremists do not discriminate, either. If they see race as the only issue for why people “hate" Meghan Markle, they see race as the only issue for most everything.

The problem with both extremes is when everything and everyone is reduced to racial identity, racism only continues to exist. A racist using skin color as a disqualifier perpetuates racism. Assuming racism is the only reason behind disdain for someone only perpetuates racism. Focusing on race or racism allows no room for content of character.

Especially when people defend Meghan Markle being the victim of racism with a racist rule. When opposing critics say “I didn’t even know she was Black" or suggest her physical features, her Hollywood CV, or past involvement with Black causes were nonexistent before she became a duchess or stepped down from being a working royal, the extremists on the other side often resort to the One Drop Rule.

Which means their defense for calling Meghan Markle “haters" racists, even though they might have never knew she was mixed race, is a form of racism. The One Drop Rule was borne from the Reconstruction Era post-Civil War. The “rule" essentially said anyone who appeared to have Black features were considered Black.

The One Drop Rule was the precursor and eventual backbone to Jim Crow Laws of the South. It was used to oppress and segregate Americans based on physical appearance. Considering most people who never heard of Meghan before Harry came along were ignorant to her mixed heritage, it seems grossly negligent to assume race is the real issue. How can one be racist toward Meghan when they didn’t know she was mixed race? This author wasn’t aware of Meghan’s ethnicity prior to it being pointed out (by her and Harry. Repeatedly.), mainly because this author didn’t care.

Like so many, when I first saw Meghan and Harry together for the engagement interview, I was more excited about a fellow American joining the Royal Family. After learning she was biracial, well it was even better. It represented change and progress. Does that mean I saw the Royal Family as racists beforehand? No. It means I saw them as exactly the opposite. Had they been racist, she’d not be a duchess. Her being American and divorced was more a shock to me than being mixed.

The point of all this is there are extremists on every spectrum. For a journalist to say they went undercover, when in fact they did not, to expose the true motives behind Meghan Markle “haters", only to find they did very little to really understand the other side was disappointing. Not surprising, just disappointing. This could’ve been an excellent opportunity for someone to take the reigns and make bridges between two very passionate factions. Instead it became nothing more than a hit piece.

The article fails to acknowledge the possibility – no, the probability – that most people who object to Meghan Markle do so because of how she behaves. The article only considers one possibility behind this “hate". And by calling the objections “hate", the article in turn defines all criticisms as hate speech. Again, unoriginal, sloppy, and lazy.

So here we have it, yet another article grouping and stereotyping anyone who disapproves of Meghan and Harry as racist haters. Yet again, another article name dropping people “deemed racist haters", essentially painting even bigger targets on the backs of those people. Like they didn’t already have enough hate mail. Yet again, another sloppy, lazy, article that never digs below the surface to understand why instead of assuming it.

This isn’t new, it’s just another slop drop from the sensationalism machine that has replaced fair, legitimate journalism. It would be different if there weren’t so many questions surrounding the births. It would be different if Meghan Markle actually lived by the example she so vehemently preaches. It would be different if Meghan Markle would make amends with her own family before telling the world how they should treat people. It would be different if Meghan Markle were a strong woman instead of claiming to be one.

But it’s not different. She hasn’t spoken to her father since two days before her wedding three years ago. She denies the family connections that existed before her fame. She ghosts people once they are no longer of benefit. She preaches equality and universal service while using her title every chance given. She and her husband criticize the “family she never had" while naming their second child after that family’s Matriarch. All of those are behaviors that incite strong emotional responses. Behaviors. And behavior has no racial identity.

A final note… hypocrisy is the main reason people have issues with anything. When one group of people tells another group to stop attacking a public figure, while using assumptions as their crusade call, it’s hypocrisy. One cannot say “if you can’t take the heat, then shut up!” to another without being a hypocrite. When that happens, don’t be surprised when the same exact thing is said back. If Meghan or her fans can’t take the criticism, they shouldn’t participate in it. We all have the right to choose. Just like if I couldn’t handle the criticism, I’d not be writing this.

Life is not fair. The world is a dark, cruel place. When we expect the world to bend to the will of a few, we are setting ourselves above the majority. A strong woman would know this. A strong woman fighting for others would also know that the only person responsible for how one feels is one’s self. External feedback isn’t responsible for internal turmoil. Internal feedback is. That is all.

REFERENCE:

Amoako, A. (2021 June 11). I went undercover in the sinister world of Meghan Markle hate accounts. Refinery29. Retrieved from: https://www.refinery29.com/en-gb/2021/06/10518195/megxit-meghan-markle-anti-fandom

#murky meg #megxit #yankeewally #prince harry #according2taz

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novoaa1writes · 4 years

Text

candles

image source

pairing(s): dark!wanda maximoff x reader

summary:

you’ve been feeling strange for the past month, particularly when it comes to dating.

you do your best to ignore it, thinking it’ll resolve itself on its own—given time, that is.

it doesn’t.

(and it’s got everything to do with wanda.)

[also available on ao3]

word count: ~5,300

rating: mature

warnings: dark!wanda, NON-CON spanking (with a belt), NON-CON BDSM play, mental manipulation, partial mind control, emotional manipulation, mental coercion, trauma bonding, toxic dynamics, drinking, possessive!wanda, non-con mind-reading, vandalism, adultery (not in reference to you or wanda), brief instances of slut-shaming

notes: [requested by anon] reader’s sexuality isn’t explicitly stated, but ex-partners of different genders are referenced/mentioned

— —

wanda uses a couple bulgarian terms of endearment for reader here, so below is a lil’ list in the order of which they appear.

*note: all of these are exactly one letter away from being precise matches to synonymous terms in russian. HOWEVER, the bulgarian alphabet and the russian alphabet are different—granted, in fairly minor ways. for one, while both are comprised of cyrillic lettering, russian has 33 while bulgarian only has 30.

— —

You have no fucking clue what’d gotten into you.

One moment, things were fine—good, even. And the next… well.

You’ll explain.

It was something like 11:30 on a Saturday night, and you were drunk.

Well, not drunk. More like buzzed.

But whatever, right? Considering the week you’d had, you deserved to let loose, even if only for a night.

Monday night saw a very angry and decidedly unhinged soccer mom banging on your door, screeching vehemently about the ‘two-faced slut’ who ruined her marriage and demanding to be let in so that she could ‘make her sorry.’ Turns out, the older guy your roommate had been sleeping with as of late was married—not that he’d bothered to share that particular bit of information with her, obviously.

The two of you spent the better part of the evening barricaded inside, passing a bottle of cheap wine back and forth while trying to explain to the 911 operator that you weren’t messing around, that there really was an angry soccer mom on your doorstep and you were actively fearing for your safety.

She eventually left around 10:00pm—no thanks to the police, since the 911 operator hadn’t even bothered to give them a call. It wasn’t until the next morning when you left for work that you saw the woman’s parting gift to the pair of you: the word ‘HOMEWRECKER’ spray-painted across the front door in obnoxious red lettering.

Bye-bye, security deposit.

That same night, you made your roommate promise to start dating people in a similar age range—because really, the both of you were stressed enough as it was without worrying about coming in between yet another middle-aged couple’s dying marriage.

The rest of the week wasn’t much better.

On Thursday, your balding creep of a boss had made yet another blatant pass at you in the workplace, making you seriously consider (and not for the first time) the prospect of just quitting and being done with it.

Then, at shit o’clock on a Friday morning, you awoke to an urgent phone call informing you that an ex of yours (one you were actually on semi-decent terms with) had gotten into a fairly serious car accident, and still had you marked down as her emergency contact.

30 minutes later found you showing up at the hospital just moments after your ex’s current girlfriend had arrived, which then prompted the whole ‘you still being your ex’s emergency contact’ revelation when the current girlfriend demanded to know what you were doing there, which ended up being… well, you’ll just say it wasn’t pretty, and leave it at that.

And your ex was going to be completely fine, anyways. She just had some minor cuts and abrasions, and would need to undergo a fairly minor (read: minimally invasive) surgery over the next couple days.

Before leaving, you instigated a quick check-in with the doctors to ensure they had everything they needed—which then turned into you providing a list of allergies, as your ex wouldn’t likely be conscious for another couple of hours, and apparently the current girlfriend didn’t know of her sensitivities to penicillin and phenobarbital… which the current girlfriend was less than happy about, if the daggers she glared at you were any indication.

Whatever. You were just trying to help.

You thanked the doctors, told them to feel free to call you if anything went awry, then asked if they might tell your ex to call you when she awoke. You thought about offering some words of comfort to the current girlfriend as she sat vigil at your ex’s bedside, but the murderous glower she shot you the moment you got within ten feet of her was more than enough to make you think better of it.

With that, you left.

So… yeah. It’d been a shitty week.

And now, here you were: a girls’ night out at the lively nightclub you and your roommate had scoped out just last weekend, tossing back $12 cocktails and letting the trashy EDM beat blaring over the speakers drown out the rest of your thoughts.

You’d been feeling a little weird all week—all month, really.

As far as you were concerned, this was exactly what the doctor had ordered.

So, when a cute guy wearing black jeans and a white T-shirt that was at least a couple sizes too big yet did well to compliment his well-muscled torso came up to you and started chatting you up at the bar, you didn’t blow him off.

The exact opposite, in fact.

He was nice, and funny, and had a gorgeous smile that made your chest feel warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the alcohol. When he flirted with you, you flirted right back.

You felt a little guilty for doing so, though you couldn’t exactly put a finger on why that was. Either way, you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it for very long.

After all, you’d been feeling hints of that for the past month, if not longer. It seemed to happen whenever you flirted with a cute guy, or went out on another Tinder date with a pretty girl, or even hugged one of your close friends.

You’d get this painful tightening sensation in your gut, nausea roiling in your abdomen… a distant, lofty voice in your head telling you that this was wrong, that you already belonged to someone else.

Which was pointless, really. Stupid.

You were single.

Your last serious relationship (barring the one with your now-hospitalized ex-girlfriend) had been over seven months ago with an eccentric guy named Lukas. He was kind, well-meaning… a bit of a dork at his very core, but you always found that more endearing than anything else. You’d dated him for four and a half months before deciding to break it off; because as much as you cared for him and enjoyed being around him, you didn’t love him, and you knew by then that you never would.

You thought about him, from time to time—even missed him now and again.

And yet, the strangest thing about the shameful feeling you’d get whenever your roommate so much as brushed a friendly kiss up against your cheek—it had absolutely nothing to do with Lukas.

You didn’t know how you knew that, but you did.

Whatever.

This guy was not Lukas.

His name was Des—short for Desmond, you learned over your fourth sugary-sweet cocktail of the night. He was charming and slightly foul-mouthed, but conscientious and passably polite where it mattered. He didn’t grope your ass or stare at your tits, nor did he make any lewd commentary about your body in any capacity.

He also smelled… really good, like Old Spice and spearmint gum and the barest hint of cigarette smoke.

That was more than enough for you.

(Whatever, alright? Decent guys were in short supply these days.)

You smiled and let him buy you another drink, even after you’d insisted that he really, really didn’t have to. And when an obnoxious pop song with a beat that was far more catchy than you’d have liked to admit came over the speakers, you let him coax you out to the dance floor with minimal resistance.

It was… fun. You liked the way his hands rested on either of your hips—gentle, almost careful; holding you like he understood he didn’t have a right to your body, like he was more than content that you allowed him this to even think of demanding any more.

Despite the twinges of guilt flaring in your gut, you let yourself get a little more comfortable… dancing closer and closer to him amidst a packed crowd of writhing bodies, letting your breasts graze up against his chest.

It was teasing—provocative, even. A test, of sorts—one that Des passed with flying colors.

He didn’t do a thing to rush you, just kept dancing across from you with his hands on your hips and his darkened gaze on yours—seeming fully content to let you set the pace for the moment. And God, but the way he was looking at you… patient but eager, like he wanted nothing more than to crush your body against his own and grind himself into you like an animal—and yet, still, he held himself back.

You couldn’t help but find that attractive as hell.

Looping your arms around his neck, you let your body to press flush against his as you swayed to the beat of the song, not shying away from the slight stiffness you could feel growing against your hip.

That guilty, nauseous feeling in your gut pulled tighter.

You ignored it, and, when he leaned a little closer to shout over the deafening music, “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”... well.

You wasted absolutely no time in lunging up on the tips of your toes to capture his lips in a messy open-mouthed kiss, the strobe lights of the club fading into obscurity around you. His lips were warm and gentle against yours—tentative, at first, until you pressed a little harder and traced the seam of his lips with your tongue… and, yeah; that did the trick.

A moment later, his lips parted to let out a quiet groan directly into your mouth as he began to reciprocate in earnest, setting every nerve ending on your body alight with electrifying want.

And that’s when it happened.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a twisted sort of clarity hit you square in the chest—slowly, and then all at once.

The next bits were something of a blur.

You tore yourself away from Des, turned to forcibly elbow your way through a floor of grinding bodies. You thought you heard him call out your name, and more than a couple people on the dancefloor turned to glare at you as you rudely brushed past them without care—but, whatever.

You texted… someone, telling them you were headed back to the apartment, so they shouldn’t bother waiting up. The group chat, maybe?

And now… Now.

Before you can blink, the past crashes into the present, and you find yourself back outside in the pitch-black night.

It’s dark… chilly. A brisk wind catches you the moment you stumble out onto the sidewalk, assaulting every inch of your exposed skin like scores of needles piercing your flesh. You whimper, shudder, and hug your arms around your body—trying to warm yourself back up like a scared little kid who forgot their jacket.

For the first time that night, you regret the tiny black babydoll dress you’d chosen to wear for the evening—and that’s not even to mention the four-inch heels.

It’s miserable, to be sure, but you can hardly focus on it for very long.

No, you have to go somewhere. You feel sick, and cold, and wrong in a way you’re loath to even begin explaining to anyone else.

And your head… you’re positively aching for something—someone to make this better.

You need… Wanda.

Yes, Wanda is the person you’re looking for. She can make all of this better.

You don’t know why, but you’re sure of it. You just need to find her. Hopefully she’s spending the night in her apartment on that super cozy sofa of hers, drinking hot chocolate and binge-watching something on Netflix like the two of you did a couple weeks back.

A fond grin curves your lips at the recollection as you stumble off down the sidewalk, headed for the nearest subway station.

Another wintry gust of wind hits you square in the chest, and you pinch your forearm hard, silently willing yourself to focus.

The station should be less than a block down, if you’re remembering correctly.

At the next street corner, you manage to brandish your pepper spray in one hand while you rummage around in your purse for your MetroCard with the other.

It’s cold as hell, and you’re probably a little too drunk to be walking through the City streets alone right now, but you don’t much care.

All you gotta do is find Wanda. That’s all.

She’ll make everything better again.

— —

Where everything else is confusing, there’s one part that seems to make sense—Wanda.

You nearly pick a fight with the card reader at the subway entrance when it makes you swipe your card three times to let you through, and even the stairs leading down to the lower tracks are more of a challenge than they probably should be… and yet, somehow, the rest of it is blessedly simple. A no-brainer, really.

You know which train you need to take… the blue one that arrives in four minutes. You know you need to stay on it for five stops before getting off.

Once you’re up at ground level, you’ll have a short walk ahead of you—one that you know like the back of your hand despite only ever having been to Wanda’s a couple of times.

You’ll enter Wanda’s apartment building, take the elevator right up to floor four, and boom! Home free.

You do exactly that.

It takes a short time (thankfully) and there’s not an ounce of uncertainty within you all the while, like you’ve done this 100 times before.

In seemingly no time at all, you’re there—standing on Wanda’s doorstep, knocking a couple times just beneath the burnished bronze ‘4A’ nailed into her door.

Your head feels all light and dizzy; you’re still shuddering from the time you spent out in the cold; but—

“One sec!” Wanda’s muffled voice comes from inside, the mere sound of it washing over you like a soothing balm—promising relief.

You’re safe now.

You made it.

— —

The moment the door swings open to reveal a bleary-eyed Wanda Maximoff dressed in tiny grey pajama shorts, an oversized Star Trek T-shirt, and nothing else, it’s like everything falls back into place.

It’s like… like you can breathe again.

You’re still drunk, and shivering, and more than a bit confused; but now that Wanda’s awake and here and smirking like she knows exactly what’s happening even if you don’t, you feel… better, somehow. Not nearly so lost as you were before.

“Y/N,” Wanda greets, stepping aside and offering out a hand to help you inside. You’re quick to take it. “I was not expecting you,” she drawls, though everything about her demeanor is saying the opposite as she shuts and locks the door behind you.

You pay it little mind. “Yeah, I... ” you trail off, turning to face her even as an embarrassed flush warms your cheeks. All of a sudden, you can’t help but feel rather ridiculous for knocking on her door and barging in so late—especially without calling first. “I’m so sorry, I... I don’t know why I’m here.”

Wanda just tilts her head, appraising you curiously even as the ghost of a knowing smile curves her lips. “Are you sure about that?”

The heat in your cheeks seems to intensify tenfold at that. “I… I need to tell you something,” you hear yourself say, and the moment it’s registered, you realize that it’s true.

You feel… guilty, all of a sudden. Nauseous, too. Scared.

You danced with that guy—Des. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… You kissed him. Why would you do that?

In the present moment, Wanda nods, like that makes perfect sense. Like all of this makes perfect sense.

“Okay,” she acquiesces lightly, flares of crimson flitting through her measured gaze. “Is it something I’ll have to punish you for?”

‘Punish’ me? What—?

You feel Wanda’s presence in your head… inconspicuous tendrils sifting through your thoughts, worming their way through your scattered memories.

No point in lying.

“Y-Yes,” you hear yourself say. Much like earlier, it isn’t until the moment you’ve confirmed it aloud that you know it to be true. You danced with someone else. You flirted with him. You let him touch you… kiss you. “I… I’m so sorry, Wanda; I-I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You see the moment Wanda finds it—your memories of the nightclub. Meeting Des at the bar. Flirting with him… Kissing him.

The look on her pretty features goes from bemused to disbelieving to absolutely murderous in zero seconds flat, and the realization hits like a freight train that you’re really in for it now.

Fuck.

“Go to the bedroom,” she snarls, her typically blue-green eyes burning with scarlet light. “Then take off that slutty dress. I want you on the bed, face down, naked. Do you understand?”

Your head is spinning; confusion rears its ugly head in your gut even as every ounce of your being screams at you to just obey—‘cause if you can just do that, the rest of it will start to make sense. (Maybe.) “O-Okay.”

— —

You don’t know how you know the way to Wanda’s bedroom, but you do.

You slip inside a room shrouded in darkness, and no matter how it strains your eyes to look around, you don’t dare turn on the light.

It’s a modestly-sized bedroom with hardwood flooring, fairy lights along one wall, and an adjoining bathroom just opposite the entrance. There’s a tall, wooden dresser pressed up against the wall directly across from a large, king-sized bed. That’s pretty much all the detail you can manage to make out in the darkness.

Well, either way, you suppose it isn’t really your business.

Wanda gave you specific instructions, and you intend to follow them.

Not for the first time tonight, you’re quite happy about the babydoll dress you’re wearing—particularly for how easy it is to pull it up over your head and off, leaving you in panties and a strapless bra in a matter of moments.

You fold the dress neatly in your hands, then leave it atop the dresser. Your panties and bra come next. In seconds, you’ve formed a small, tidy pile.

As you step out of your heels and approach the neatly-made bed, you’re struck with the strangest sense of déjà vu… like you’ve done this before.

It lingers in the forefront of your mind as you crawl up onto the bed, biting back a groan at how easily the plush mattress gives way under your hands and knees.

God, you’d kill to have a nice nap in this absolute cloud of a bed.

You shake the thought off, simultaneously willing the haze of intoxication fogging up your brain to abate.

You’re not here to nap.

You settle face-down onto the bed, just like Wanda said. You’re careful not to rest your face on the pillows, though, since you have the distinct feeling that’s not something Wanda would want you doing without permission.

Instead, you fold your arms and rest your head atop your forearm, staring straight down into nothing. You scrunch up your features and let out a quiet huff as the black duvet tickles the tip of your nose.

It smells like her—all of it does. Cinnamon, vanilla, and something indefinable; something that belongs to Wanda, and Wanda alone.

You feel your body stiffen as a familiar set of footsteps draw near, approaching the room where you lie—naked and vulnerable atop Wanda’s bed.

The patter of Wanda’s gait becomes almost soundless as she enters, circling around the bed over towards the nightstand. You don’t dare to turn your head and watch as she pulls out one of the drawers, rummaging through it until she finds… well, whatever it is she’s looking for, you suppose.

A moment later, there’s the telltale chk! of a match being struck, and a hiss as the phosphorous tip lights itself aflame.

It’s quiet for a minute... then two. The only sounds you can hear are your breathing and the strike of a match every time Wanda lights another.

Gradually, gentle flares of light grow in your periphery, bathing the room in a dim, yellow-y glow. She’s lighting candles—a lot of them.

You’ve always loved candles.

A couple minutes later, she’s finished, and she returns to tuck the matchbox safely back in the drawer.

You lose track of her as she retreats once more, and your mounting curiosity is more than piqued when you hear her rummaging through the dresser near the foot of the bed; still, you don’t dare turn and look.

Instead, you wait, fetid nausea churning low in your gut, pinpricks of apprehension dancing across every inch of exposed skin. Your heart thuds painfully against your ribcage as she takes something out from the dresser drawer, then shuts it with an audible thud!

You swallow the lump in your throat and urge yourself to focus on your breathing.

In, out.

In… out.

“I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,” Wanda’s voice comes from somewhere behind you, genuine hurt coloring her hushed tone.

You have to fight the urge to shudder as a chill runs down your spine. “I… I’m sorry, Wanda,” you say meekly, pathetically, cheeks hot with shame.

And the worst part? You’re not lying.

You listen carefully for the sounds of her bare feet padding across the floor as she circles the bed once more, crouching down right beside you in the very corner of your periphery.

“Look at me,” she orders, gentle yet firm.

You do.

The moment you meet her gaze, you can’t help the errant thought entering your mind that she looks so pretty like this—face bare of makeup; long brown hair piled into a messy bun atop her head; dainty features cast into darkened shadows by the low, yellow light of burning candles clustered together atop the nightstand.

The muted light seems to soften her anger, her pain… allowing her to really look her age for the very first time since you’ve known her.

“You think too loudly, Y/N.” Wanda’s words are dry, almost teasing as they jolt you back into reality. “Focus on me, please.”

You do.

“You belong to me,” she asserts after a beat of silence, an uncharacteristically intent and almost solemn look splayed across her dimly-lit features. “I thought you understood that.”

The words confuse you even as they seem to resonate poignantly with some fundamental part of you… a part of you that categorically refuses to be ignored.

“Wanda…” you trail off, bewilderment and contrition warring violently within your chest until it aches to draw breath. “I’m confused, Wanda,” you whimper out finally, overwhelmed tears burning in your eyes. “I-I-I don’t understand what’s happening—”

Wanda cuts you off with a derisive snort. “Yes, clearly,” she agrees, her tone ripe with sardonic ire. “You’ve forgotten yourself. You’ve forgotten who owns you.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, desperately trying to make sense of it all. “Is that why…” You search Wanda’s eyes intently. “... I-I felt sick, an-and… guilty about dancing with Des.”

Something like anger flares in her gaze, hot and bitter, and you have to resist the urge to shrivel beneath it. “That boy had no right to touch what’s rightfully mine.”

“B-But then… why didn’t I remember?” you ask, utterly forlorn. “I-I felt it last weekend, too, but I… I didn’t—”

“Last weekend?” Wanda repeats, features hardening.

Oh, shit. You feel your cheeks get hot again. “I… I shouldn’t have brought it up, Wan’, I’m sorry—”

“What happened last weekend?” she interjects, her tone cold and hard like a double-edged blade. “You can tell me yourself, or I can start looking.”

You shiver. “I… I went on a-a… a date with a girl that I met online,” you admit, tears welling in your eyes even as Wanda’s jaw visibly tightens. “I-It was just the one time! A-And nothing happened; we didn’t even k-kiss! I just… I didn’t… I didn’t know—”

“Yes. You’re right; you didn’t know.” Wanda stands abruptly, then, and it’s at that moment that you see the folded belt in her hands—thick, worn leather with a sterling silver buckle.

An icy sense of dread blossoms in your chest, chilling you from the inside out.

Is she going to—?

“I was indulgent before… I let you get away with far too much. I will not make the same mistake again.”

With that, she turns to circle back around the bed, the belt buckle audibly jangling in her hands with every step.

“I have to punish you, принцеса,” she continues, her voice scarcely more than a whisper as she comes to stand near the foot of the bed—and somehow, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there’s no convincing her otherwise.

She’s going to punish you, and it’s going to hurt. Bad.

All at once, panic seizes you. You squirm, writhing in an effort to get up and off the bed—

Only to be stopped by tendrils of lurid crimson curling around either wrist, forcing them together just over your head like magic—glowing crimson cuffs holding both arms fast to the headboard. On a whim, you test your legs—tensing and pulling, only to be met with iron-clad resistance encircling either ankle in a tight, unrelenting grip.

Well, fuck.

“W-Wanda,” you plead, hardly paying any mind to the way your voice trembles. “Please, I—I don’t want—”

“I do not enjoy punishing you, мила,” she laments, almost sounding genuinely apologetic. It tugs at your heartstrings in a curious way—something you really don’t have time to examine right now. “But you did something bad. And when you do bad things, there are consequences. You understand that, don’t you?”

A tear trickles down your cheek, warm and wet as you steel yourself for the first hit. “Y-Yes.”

“Good girl,” Wanda lauds, and you can’t help the surge of warmth that washes over you at the simple praise—the pride that blooms in your chest at knowing you’ve finally done something right. “Now—try and relax, принцеса, okay?”

It’s all the warning you get before the first blow comes down upon your bare arse with a resounding Crack!

White-hot pain flares across your bottom, racing up your spine like wildfire and tearing a strangled whimper from your throat.

Jesus fucking Christ, that hurt—

Crack!

Holy fuck.

The impact of the leather against your naked cheeks leaves strips of fire burning in its wake, expelling all the air from your lungs in a choked-out rush.

“P-Please, no, Wan’,” you beg breathlessly, struggling in vain even as coils of vibrant scarlet hold you fast, “it hurts, please—”

Crack!

“This is for your own good, baby,” Wanda coos, sounding for all the world as though she truly believes every word of it.

Crack! This one lands directly across your sit spot, ripping a shriek from your lips as molten agony rocks you to your core.

“Wan’—Fuck, please, no—”

Crack!

“G—God, fuck, pleasestop, please—”

Crack!

“P—Please, hurtssobad, I’m—”

Crack!

“FUCK !”

Tears stream down your cheeks, wetting the black duvet beneath your face. You’re absolutely beside yourself with torment, your bare ass aflame with a pain unlike any you’ve ever known.

Crack!

… And the hits just keep coming—raining down stripes of blistering heat across your sore, bruised buttocks; pummeling your throbbing, exposed rear until it feels as though the entire area has just become one puffy, pulsating bruise.

Crack!

All the fight has completely gone out of you; now, your body completely slack—devoid of any resistance even as every hit seems to sear itself into your impossibly tender bottom like a third-degree burn… The pain is absolutely incredible, unlike any else you’ve ever known.

You’ll do anything—and you really do mean anything—to make it stop.

“P-P-Please, stop it, Wanda, PLEASE—”

Crack! Another hit directly across your burning sit spot rips a watery sob from your throat, followed by—

Crack!

It’s all you can do to keep yourself from hyperventilating until you pass out.

Crack!

Agony blackens the edge of your vision, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks as you await another strike…

But it doesn’t come.

Wh—?

“Have you learned your lesson, мила?” Wanda asks, and this time, her voice comes from closer… like she’s right beside you.

You don’t have it in you to be startled when a feather-light kiss lands itself between your shoulder blades, nor when one hand begins stroking up and down your heaving torso in soothing motions.

“Y-Yes! I—please, God, yes,” you babble, overwhelmed by the sensation of unadulterated pain branding every inch of your battered arse. “I promise I’ll never, ever, ever do it again, Wan’—Won’t ever be with anyone else—jus-just please stop hurting me—I’ll be so good, please—”

“Shh,” Wanda shushes you tenderly. You feel yourself twitch as the mattress suddenly dips beside you. “It’s okay, любима,” she soothes, coming to rest beside you. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

‘Breathe’...

Your pulse thunders in your ears; your ass is on fire with an anguish far beyond your years; and yet, there’s something undoubtedly soothing about her words as they wash over you in gentle waves… something that tells you you’re safe.

Were you a little more lucid, you might’ve found that quite the nonsensical paradox—this feeling of safety and security with the woman who’d just beaten your arse raw without mercy no matter how you wailed and sobbed and begged for her to stop.

But as it is, you’re not.

Instead, you’re just broken and teary-eyed and in pain, and Wanda’s tenderness is a most welcome respite to alleviate that excruciating ache.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, even if it burns your lungs something awful, and force yourself to let it out slowly.

In, out.

In… out.

“That’s it, мила,” Wanda praises gently, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re doing so well… Just like that.” Her fingers come to rest beneath your chin, urging you to turn and face her…

And you do, far too exhausted to even think of doing anything other than what she tells you to. Your lungs burn; your nose runs; and the pain in your bottom hasn’t abated any—if anything, it’s intensified.

You’re more than happy to be given something else to focus on.

When you look at her, her blue-green eyes are wet—glossy with tears.

“Wanda?” you manage weakly, feeling your brow crease with worry. “You ‘kay?”

Wanda sniffles, huffs out a watery-sounding laugh. “Yes, Y/N, I’m alright,” she whispers, then leans forth to plant a gentle kiss upon the tip of your nose. “I’m just so very, very proud of you.”

Despite yourself, you feel a pleased flush spread throughout your body at that. “Really?” you mumble, exhaustion drooping your eyelids until it’s a challenge just to keep them open.

Wanda nods, a tear sliding out of her eye that you yearn to reach forth and catch with your thumb—but alas, you’re far too weak. “Really.”

You hum, burrowing your face further into the duvet beneath your cheek—even if it is still damp with your tears. “‘M sorry I was bad, Wan’,” you murmur, feeling darkness near on every side. “Didn’t mean’ta make you upset.”

“I don’t like punishing you, принцеса,” she says once more, and this time, you have no reason to doubt that she means it. Honestly, you don’t know how you ever could. “It hurts me just as much as it hurts you.”

You hum again. Your eyelids feel too heavy to open. “‘M sorry,” you say. “Gonna do better… make you proud… I promise.”

Wanda chuckles. The sound of it makes your chest feel loose and warm and happy. “You already do, darling girl,” she murmurs. You don’t know if it’s because she’s whispering, or you’re fading into sleep, but you can barely hear her when she repeats it once more: “You already do.”

Sleep descends upon you, then, and you succumb to it willingly, feeling safer and more at peace than you have in a very long time.

— —

tagging:

[marvel]: @normanijauregui

— —

end notes: yeah i don’t know what this is either. i was only aiming for maybe 1,000 words or something, but things happened and...

look. i haven’t been to therapy in a hot minute, ok?

link to masterlist

#stuff i wrote #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #f!reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff x f!reader #dark fic #mcu fic #marvel fic #scarlet witch x reader #dark!scarlet witch x reader #dark!scarlet witch #reader-insert #requested

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loaffofbred · 3 years

Text

SPOILERS FOR WTIT :

Foreshadowing of Logan's Outburst or Snap and Indications of Future Problems

After rewatching some of the Sanders Sides past episodes, it seems very clear that Logan's outburst is fairly unsurprising. But, there may be some other foreshadowing thats taking place other than his outburst, and maybe his future dilemma's maybe indicated as well.

One example i saw is his question in the musical number of the puppet episode, where Patton explains his repression of emotion, and Logan seemingly asking if it worked in some way. And almost seemingly shocked by Patton's answer.

It almost seems like he was trying to find the answer to his own problem. He's repeated before that he has NO feelings or emotions, and that he has no care of sentiments. He's in denial of his emotions and Patton's situation seem to fascinate him because he seems to have the same problem. Almost like the more he ignores his emotions, the more he believes they disappear altogether, like what Patton said. The answer seemed to shocked him either because of Patton learning and applying the lesson he learned, or because he had a similar problem and shocked by an unexpected answer. This feels like a foreshadow to Logan's problem, and this is not the only example of that. All instances of Logan denying his emotions are just further evidence that thats his problem. His acceptance of his emotions. This is me not doing too much research here, so bear with me if theres a way to debunk it.

Of course this isnt a surprise to some, but this is a foreshadow to his outburst. The further you fill this jar of emotions, the closer it is to bursting into a field of emotions and outbursts. I think maybe the future episode might tackle that problem. Denial is a form of deception, you cant have deception WITHOUT denial in some capacity. You can tell that Janus in some way knows Logan's dilemma, he is deceit after all, he knows that Logan has a tendency to deny his own emotions. Even the other sides seem to know this as well. Logan always clarifies he has no emotions and this further feeds deceit.

Janus and Remus' push comes to shove

This can also explain why Janus and Remus push Logan to a different level than all the other sides. An example of this is the newest asides video(WTIT) and both SvS and SvS redux. Why are there methods of pushing Logan away different from the other sides? Well, lets first see how the other sides do this. First, the other sides never do this intentionally or in a malicious way. They explain Logan why his point of view doesnt particularly matter, and that their argument is more feasible. They dont FORCE Logan aside, they just dont put the effort to listen and comprehend his input. Example of this is the end card of WTIT, Patton choosing to ignore Logan's input on SvS Redux, and Thomas, Patton, and Roman almost ignoring and nonchalantly putting aside his wants in the Moving On episode. They dont force Logan away, they just dont give value to his input enough for him to feel worthy.

Remus and Janus' way is through FORCE. Theyre upfront and malicious with their tactics. Remus blatantly targeting Logan specifically on the introductory episode of him. Janus disguising himself, two times, as Logan to remove him from the equation. They both force Logan down, to try and bring themselves up. I dont particularly know why theyre pushing Logan to his limits. Either an entry for the Orange side?

But this is whats weird. Janus is responsible to who or which side can be seen. Hes responsible on who is hidden away from Thomas, and who isnt. Thats why in Remus' song mentions this;

Recently a snake offered me a morsel from the tree of knowledge

He said "you're wanting to be more honest

And be direct dealing with your issues

No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you"

(a certain thing i suddenly realize is that the 'tree of knowledge' is referenced in WTIT. The last end shot where it pans to Logan and the roots of the tree to Janus. Just a small thing i realized :) )

So why does the orange side need 'influence'? Yes, Thomas has a say on what he wants to see and what he doesnt, but what about Remus? In a way its far more fitting for him to just barge in rather than have permission to show up. But if we were to assume Orange as rage or a form of it, why does he NEED influence (assuming he does) to truly be seen? A question that im hoping will get answered in future episodes.

Janus' power and deniability

Janus has more power than we think. He can shut the sides up about a certain side in order for Thomas to be unaware. So maybe, in the end card, Janus is hinting for the Orange Side to finally being seen because of his help. His power stems from something but what?

Have you noticed something in common with all of the dark sides introductory episodes? They all speak about DENIAL. Denial of Thomas' capacity to deceit and the denial of imagination having an 'evil form' of it. His denial is what keeps the dark sides at bay, and what keeps him from knowing about the other sides. I think thats the main reason why Janus has the power to show Thomas the other sides, because denial is a form of deceit, and Janus has power over that.

And who else has a BIG problem with deniability? Logan. Logan denies that his emotions even exist in the first place. One example of denial being a big part is this line that really stuck with me,

No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you

Janus is speaking to Remus yes, but this also resonates with Logan and Thomas. 'Deceiving yourself' is lying to yourself, denying the existence of bad within you. Remus KNOWS that Logan is lying to himself, because it seems like Remus had the same experience with how Janus told this to him specifically. He knows Logan's problems and the whole "Now youre speakin' my language" makes even more sense. He saw Logans truth. His ugliness within him.

Another line also stuck with me is this;

Why deny yourself knowledge

Say knowledge of yourself?

You don't need to feel ashamed with your dear old Duke

You need not feign decency

This also seems so targeted to Logan. He feigns that he has no emotions therefore has no flawed and hurtful emotions that can target Thomas. He feigns decency. Also! 'Why deny yourself knowledge, say knowledge of yourself?' seems to resonate with Logan as well. Im not saying these lyrics are TARGETED SPECIFICALLY towards Logan, but resonate instead.

Logan's deniability of emotions

Think about it, denial is the reason why dark sides are hidden. And Logan denies his emotions. Connect the dots and its understandable why some people believe Logan to be either hiding something about the Orange side, or him being the Orange side in general.

Few mentions

Another targeted insult (while not surprising coming from Remus) also acknowledges Logan's problem,

He knows his problems, and this is where Logan denies this entirely

Which seems like a lie to me, but nonetheless

Remus pushes the take that he has an effect on Logan

Logan also denying this entirely

Even though, that is the exact OPPOSITE of what happened to him with Remus on the latest sanders asides.

TLDR; Logans denial of his emotions is a big problem that may be addressed in future episodes. Denial is a big part of the dark sides anonymity and Thomas' deniability is the very reason for hidden dark sides.

Both Remus and Janus push Logan for either an entry way for Orange, but still skeptical because of Janus having the power to make dark sides be seen based on his control of deniability, so why put the effort?

Logan's connection to denial maybe a more reason why he seems to be the only side that explicitly shows anger to the point of physical pain towards others or other outbursts. Deniability and the dark sides having a connection seems to further push the theory of Logan showing his true colors or self. Of course that theory has many flaws in of itself, i think Logan's denial has a big part as to why he showed orange eyes

Remus affects Logan in quite different ways compared to Virgil and Patton

anyways, this has been long enough, i hope this was understandable, and as always

THIS IS ALL THEORIES,

do not take them as truth or fact, but rather speculation

anyway, peacee

#sanders sides #sanders sides theory #orange side #ts logan #ts remus #ts janus #ts orange side #thomas sanders #ts spoilers

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dragonindigo245 · 3 years

Text

Official post for my orange side theory

AND NO IT IS NOT WRATH OR ANGER

WARNING: Spoilers for Working Through Intrusive Thoughts. I'm not gonna bother adding the spoiler tag to this post because all the spoilers are going to be under the read more.

Also this post is long so be warned.

Back in early August of 2020 I came up with an orange side theory I have stuck with for a long time. I always found the orange side theory of wrath/anger to be odd, seeing as anger is an emotion not a personality trait, and therefore made an effort to try and discover what I can see the orange side being. In light of the fandoms response to the latest asides saying that orange being wrath is "now canon", I figured it was time to bring it back, along with new points and explanations.

What is the orange side exactly? The answer is simple. He might not be this exactly, but orange is naivety, irrationality, or the inability to see logic clearly.

This started when I made the connection to the dark sides being complete opposites to one another. For example, Janus and Patton are opposite ends of the moral spectrum, Roman and Remus are opposite ends of the creative spectrum, and Logan himself is on the functionality/rationality spectrum. The opposite end would be something like naivety or irrationality.

After that post, I made another a couple of months ago with 3 main points, the first being the opposite ends point. The other two points are just as important.

Point 2: It ties into the 3 monkeys theory

The recent episode confirmed the 3 monkeys theory, further solidifying this point. In case you live under a rock or are new to the Sanders Sides theories, the 3 monkeys theory is based on the whole "See no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil" thing. The dark sides all have powers relating to each of these.

Janus has the ability to mute the sides (speak no evil), Remus has the ability to muffle the sides (hear no evil), and Orange has the ability to... make... their eyes pretty? I'm sure that we will get an actual explanation on how he influenced Logan in the future lol. Regardless, orange is definitely see no evil.

Now you may be asking, Indigo, how does this tie into irrationality?

Do you know what irrationality is? The inability to SEE the world clearly or to SEE reason or logic. Irrationality blinds you to reason itself. It makes sense, seeing as emotions are illogical and orange clearly did something to push Logan to an outburst. When orange provided his influence, Logan's eyes glowed orange, indicating he lost the ability to see purely logically. While, yes, orange did this with anger as a vessel, irrationality takes many forms.

Point 3: Color symbolism

Something that is frequently overlooked when fanders make theories about the sides is that each side ties into their color scheme in some way. Roman being red ties into him functioning as Thomas' romantic side, Patton's light blue tying into his gentle nature and trustworthiness, etc.

Orange is a color that is tied to joy and youth. Being naïve to the world around you crumbling down will often make you happier. While some naivety is great and can make you happy, in large doses it is a threat to your well being.

Point 3.5: How is this connection accurate?

A great deal of the plot in this episode, especially the endcard, showcases this irrational blindness to all of the issues the sides are having with each other. Throughout the episode, Logan keeps having to sacrifice his plan to help Thomas and then once Nico calls Thomas, Thomas doesn't know how hard it hurts Logan to once again be brushed off. In the endcard, Patton and Roman tell Logan that this is more important, not realizing how rejected Logan feels.

This isn't just happening with Logan either. Patton and Virgil have had some rising tension as of late as well. This is showcased the most clearly in this video when Virgil snaps at Patton and says "Oh thank goodness. You're giving him permission." sarcastically. Patton takes this as "I didn't know you would give him permission" whereas Virgil was meaning "He doesn't need your permission to feel good about this". Furthermore, each of the light sides have argued with each other individually in different episodes except for Virgil and Patton.

With Janus recently being more accepted, Remus appearing and hurting everyone, and the tension each of the main sides have... it's all going to fall apart. Nobody but the dark sides seem to notice this tension, not even Thomas. Why? Because they are being naïve. The orange side is either keeping them blissfully unaware or the very fact they are unaware is giving the orange side power.

What is the new point you mentioned?

This video with the orange side really got my gears turning. I began making connections that otherwise I didn't have the ability to make, or never happened to think of. The fact my theory has managed to hold up in a heavy orange side lore video only solidifies my confidence in this.

Point 4: The dark sides revolve around the truth

This theory is a little more of a stretch but if I'm right, then this is all the evidence I really need to confirm that orange is irrationality.

Janus is essentially the ring leader of the dark sides. He keeps them hidden until Thomas wants to be aware of them, with the potential exception of Virgil who we don't know when he was revealed to Thomas. However, each dark side has something in common besides witty remarks. They all center around the truth.

Janus and Remus are easier to figure out, seeing as Janus is literally the embodiment of lies and Remus has multiple times where it is obvious he provides the unfortunate truth. Remus being the bringer of truth is showcased multiple times, which I will only bullet point because this post is more-so about orange than him.

His line of "I would never hide anything from you."

Janus bit in Forbidden Fruit that goes "No longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you."

Logan admitting Remus can help Thomas in his own way

Virgil on the other hand is harder. Unlike the other two, Virgil represents a completely different angle of this "truth theme". Virgil represents the fear of both the truth and the unknown. Why would Janus even need to even repress the dark sides in the first place if Thomas wasn't afraid of the truth that they were apart of him? Why would Thomas had admitted he didn't want there to be more dark sides after he asks if there were more of them if it were not fear he had more unwanted parts of him and fear of not knowing what they were?

Virgil knows Thomas' fears. This would have made admitting he was a dark side such a hard feat. If he felt Thomas was chill with the dark sides, Virgil could have instantly told Thomas he was in fact one of them. In a way, this makes Virgil the perfect bridge between the light and dark sides. The dark sides provide Thomas with the truth he needs or wants, and the light sides figure out how to handle it.

Point 4.5: What does this have to do with orange?

Orange would keep Thomas from the truth. While, yes, this is the exact same thing Janus does, Orange would do it another way. Janus makes Thomas unaware of the truth he KNOWS. Unconsciously, Thomas still knows what Janus hides. This makes it entirely different from how naivety works. Naivety would keep him from ever learning the information in the first place.

Furthermore, we saw that orange is potentially connected to Janus in some way. The very last thing we see in Working Through Intrusive Thoughts is the flash from Janus' eyes, to oranges eyes. This could be a slight hint at Janus and Oranges functions not being so far apart.

Or the writers just thought it would look neat. That too.

Is Logan the orange side?

I can say with almost 100% certainty the answer is no. We saw before each sides introduction, they manifested themselves in the other sides.

Janus silenced Roman in Accepting Anxiety Part 2, Remus manifested in Roman by giving him random unwanted outbursts (like the naked Aunt Patty line that Roman said he didn't know where it came from in the Christmas episode), and therefore it follows orange is manifesting in his own way.

Furthermore, Logan is not the type of character to turn evil. He has outbursts and is being beaten down but he would never snap for good. If anything, we have seen from Putting Others First that he would only appear as needed if he felt ignored.

Logan is not one to let his emotions make irrational decisions for long, and he almost always goes to make up for his mistakes the moment they happen. He always has Thomas' best interests at heart and has witnessed Virgil realizing force is not the way to go about it.

It makes no sense for his character and there is no reason for it to happen narratively.

Please note that this post is simply a theory and I do not wish to start arguments about if I am right or not. If you are going to provide counterclaims, please do so respectfully and do not clog my notes with your own essay. Thank you!

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fanfictionwritingoddity · 3 years

Text

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙤𝙮’𝙨 𝙆𝙧𝙮𝙥𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚: 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6𝙠 𝐭𝐰: 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮, 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙧𝙮, 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 - 𝙝𝙪𝙙𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

( 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎!𝙾𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚃𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚞 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 )

A loud cheer left your lips as Seijoh secured yet another point. The game had progressed into the third set, and the score was now 15-24, your hometeam only one point away from victory. Kaori trembled in excitement next to you, her cheeks pinking under the heat of the gym lights. She had caught Oikawa’s eyes more than once as they drifted up to your seats, and just that fact alone was enough to set her face aflame. Had she finally gotten the captain to notice her?

No, the only person Tooru could ever see was you.

You hadn’t noticed the setter’s longing stares, more focused on the player with a big number 2 on his back. He smirked at his fellow blocker once the ball smacked against the opposite end of the court, silently celebrating his success. A smile creeped across your lips as you watched the display, heart thumping unsteadily in your chest. Matsukawa’s brown eyes flitted to your face for a moment, drinking in your beam before grinning back.

The interaction was brief, but Oikawa didn’t miss anything. He almost wished he didn’t see the way your expression brightened for the few seconds you basked in Issei’s attention, or the unsteady hand you clenched against your chest when he looked away. Tooru was unable to keep his left eye from twitching slightly as a wave of irritation slammed into him like a tsunami. So that was who you liked, huh?

What did Matsukawa Issei have that he didn’t?

Oikawa was extremely aggressive for the last point, serving so hard that a player on the opposing team got hit and ended up with a bloody nose. Everyone just figured he was excited to win and the adrenaline of the finishing play had gotten to him. Well, they weren’t entirely wrong. He was excited to win. But, the player he had ‘accidentally’ hit looked strangely similar to Matsukawa.

There was nothing wrong with some harmless target practice, right?

Once the game was over, you couldn’t stop yourself from rushing down from the stands over to the Seijoh team. Kaori was close behind you, clutching a clean towel that she planned to give to Oikawa. You barely awarded said man a glance as you dashed right by him, already on your way to Matsukawa’s side.

The hand Tooru had lifted to cheekily wave in greeting hung awkwardly at his side for a good three seconds after you passed. He couldn’t suppress the jealousy bubbling in his stomach. It felt acidic, burning and dangerous. However, the player was forced to quickly swallow the venom crawling up his throat as he noticed Kaori nervously shuffling up to him.

“You did great out there,” you exclaimed, handing your best friend his water bottle. He gave you his signature droopy-eyed smile as he took the drink from your hand. Oikawa’s hands were trembling as he gripped the towel your friend had given him, finding the sickeningly sweet smile she wore nothing short of disgusting.

Eventually, after about three insufferable minutes of listening to you chat it up with the lazy bastard you had set your sights on, Tooru couldn’t handle it anymore. He whipped around, setting his sights on your back, which was facing him. Matsukawa quirked an eyebrow at his captain's rigid stance but ignored it, continuing his conversation with you. Without a moment of hesitation, the setter crept up behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist and setting his chin on your shoulder, dangerously close to your ear.

“I didn’t know you knew Matsukawa, cutie!”

His voice was sultry, and his breath sent shivers down your spine because of his close proximity. Oikawa ignored the flutter in his stomach, opting to let out a sad hum and pout. You sighed, shimmying out of the boy’s hold, before turning to him.

“He’s my best friend.”

There was a warning in your eyes, because you knew he was aware of how you felt about Issei. Tooru feigned ignorance, innocently tilting his head in wonder. Matsukawa rolled his eyes and sighed, bending down and beginning to pack his volleyball bag that was sitting on the bench.

“Don’t be weird, Oikawa.”

Suddenly, he stopped, straightening his posture as he turned to look at you guiltily.

“Ah, Y/N, I’m not going to be able to walk you home today… I have to walk someone else.”

It was difficult to hide the way your heart broke as Issei muttered his excuse, but somehow you managed. After all, you had seen him date other people before. This would be no different. Pulling a weak smile onto your lips, you silently handed him his towel while nodding.

“Perfect! I’ll take her home then.”

Oikawa’s quip had been unexpected, and left your jaw to drop slightly in shock. Oh, hell no. You desperately pulled out your phone, hoping to feign getting a text from your parents. Before you could turn it on, a hand covered the screen, keeping you from clicking anything. Fear gripped your heart as you slowly dragged your gaze up, meeting the playboy’s face. You then noticed the knowing grin that was playing on his lips.

There would be no way out of this one.

You quickly learned that slowing your pace in hopes of being able to lag behind slightly and defeat the notion that you two were really walking home together didn’t work, as Tooru would just wait for you to be by his side before beginning his walk again. The silence was deafening, and unfortunately it gave you time to mull over the entire reason you were walking with the team captain in the first place - Matsukawa had been busy with someone else.

You had no right to be jealous. You and him weren’t even dating, for god's sake! Unfortunately, that didn’t stop said emotion from plaguing your mind, mixing with the poignant sorrow that already sat there. It was a wonder that you weren’t used to this, you had been in love with Issei for two years and he had never shown any romantic interest in you. For so long, you stood idly by while he weeded through girlfriends and crushes, unable to ever confess your own feelings.

Silently clutching your bag a bit tighter, you willed your eyes to stay glued on the pavement in front of you. Your slight tenses didn’t go unnoticed by Oikawa, who’s chocolate brown orbs flickered to you the moment you moved. He was quiet for a second, drinking in your conflicted expression and stance, before dragging his gaze away.

“Does he know how you feel?”

You weren’t able to verbally answer, choosing to just shake your head instead.

“Thought so,” he muttered, a wry smile playing on his lips.

The absence of conversation was slightly more comfortable after that, but you didn’t know how much longer you could hold back your tears. It just hurt so, so much. Without even a glance in your direction, Oikawa placed his hand gently upon your head, his lithe fingers slightly carding your locks aside to find a comfortable resting place. This action froze you in your spot, which it seemed he predicted, considering he stopped at the exact same time. When you turned your face to him, intending to question his strange behavior, his hand slipped to your cheek, thumb caressing under your eye with unrivaled gentleness.

“Don’t cry over someone like him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

There was a certain softness in Tooru’s eyes, the brown seeming more like the color of oak bark when bright leaf filtered sunlight hits it just right. But deep down in his gaze, somewhere hidden below, was a darkness, something terrifying and dangerous. Against every cell in your body, your cheeks heavily heated at the affectionate action.

After a few moments of trying to catch your breath, you realized your surroundings looked eerily familiar. Once you spared more than a glance at them, it hit you - you were outside of your house. How did you get here so quickly? And how did Oikawa know where you lived? He never once asked for directions. Before you could ask any questions, he removed his hand, giving you a gentle nudge towards your front door.

You offered a small smile, turning on your heel and walking up the path to the entrance. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

You never did look back to see if he had left.

No, he didn’t leave. Tooru stayed outside your home for almost an hour after you had gone inside, simply watching lights flicker on and off as you made your way through the house. It gave him an odd sense of peace, slowing his heart down to the pace it would take when one was meditating. But any time he thought of the boy who had hurt you, it spiked so violently he had to catch his breath.

How dare he. Not that Matsukawa was worth your time anyways. He didn’t deserve a single sliver of your existence, he didn’t even deserve to breathe your air. No, and he wouldn’t any longer. You were an angel among men, a diamond in the rough, and any other person was lucky to be in your presence.

You needed to be protected.

Everyone else would only hurt you, they would only taint you and use you like Matsukawa did. Well, lucky for you, Oikawa was more than glad to fill the role of the princess’s knight. He would burn the world down if it meant you would be his.

Flicking out his phone, the captain typed a few things before holding it up to his ear.

“Hey, Matsukawa, can I come over? I have some homework questions.”

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 : @kray-dragon , @lagoonsmainacc , @steampunkhell

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the-last-cuddlebender · 4 years

Note

I straight up check your profile daily for the southern raiders analysis you’re working on. 👀👀 where IS IT 😩

bRUH I am so excited to drop this analysis you have no idea (It’s creeping up to 22k+ I am gonna cryyyyyyyyyyyy). The only problem is that my TSR analysis and “Moon theory” are so incredibly hard to structure and articulate. I’m happy you’re so excited for it, though!!! Truly, it’s an honor. I’ll give you a taste of my madness and what’s to come, but be warned: it may be a bit hard to follow because TSR (from how I’ve come to understand it) is about the vagueness of beginnings, endings, and cycles, so there isn’t really a starting point for me to begin with. (So it may seem a tad bit like a ramble in some points that I haven’t fleshed out yet/am summarizing for this ask)

This analysis has me on trails like THIS brilliant nonsense, and I am 1000000000% here for it:

Roku: “The spirit's name is Koh, but he is very dangerous. They call him The Face Stealer.”

Katara: “We’re going to find the man who took my mother from me.”...“That’s him. That’s the monster.”

Lion Turtle: “To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable, or you will be corrupted and destroyed.”

Roku: “When you speak with him, you must be very careful to show no emotion at all. Not the slightest expression, or he will steal your face.”

Hama: “Congratulations, Katara. You’re a bloodbender.”

(If Katara had killed Yon Rha, she would be giving up her identity--her face. Not only would she have become a killer, but she would be killing what made her Katara)

Aang: “Let your anger out, and then let it go. Forgive him.”

Forgive him--approach him for what he is, not the faces your memories or your heart are having him wear. See him for the pathetic man he is in that moment right in front of you.

Aang’s forgiveness is seeing someone for the sum of their parts. It’s judging them and seeing through into their very soul, just like the Firebending Masters saw through Zuko being the Crown Prince and Aang being the Avatar. That meant nothing to the Masters. What did matter to them was who the boys were right there, right then, right in front of them.

“Why should I hold a grudge against you for something you did in a past life? After all, you’re a different person, now. You’ve come to me with a new face.”

But anyways...

If I can give no other take-away from my analysis and moon theory, it’s that Yin and Yang are not two entities; they are three. I think the fandom’s misunderstanding of it may be why the discourse on TSR (and Aang, Katara, and Zuko) is so black and white (pun intended lol).

“But Yin and Yang are obviously two things. Don’t you know the symbol?” I hear some people already saying.

Wrong, sir.

It has never been just Yin and Yang. Yin and Yang have never existed as just two things.

They are Yin and Yang and Wu Wei.

(Aunt Wu has her name for a reason, and she has the mark of the wise in her hair for a reason, too...AND she is at odds with Sokka in The Fortuneteller for a reason, too!!!...but that’s for the analysis😉)

Balance isn’t good triumphing over evil. Balance is good and evil. Balance is standing on the flow between two opposites--it’s the compliment that connects them. (The koi fish live in an oasis for a reason.)

I’ll explain what Wu Wei is later in the full analysis (like many things in here), but here’s some of my evidences and proofs for the “Yin Yang trio”:

The Tibetan “Wheel of Dharma”

(I’ll also explain the Wheel and Dharma and etc. later because it has everything to do with Koh and the moon) Long story short, the wheel and its spokes are representative of the 8 steps to enlightenment and the cycle of rebirth.

Look at the hub of the wheel. It’s a swirl made of 3 parts.

It is also a white lotus

Here’s the colored version of the wheel (as an alter):

Recognize the colors?

BLUE, WHITE (or gold, depending), & RED

These are the “THREE TREASURES” OR JEWELS.

They symbolize DHARMA, BUDDHA, & SANGHA respectively.

KATARA, AANG, & ZUKO

water, air, & fire

T H R E E

Bato: “Ice dodging is a ceremonial test of wisdom, bravery, and trust.

Bato: “The spirits of water bear witness to these marks...”

Why does Bato say spirit(s) plural? The Ocean and the Moon are only two spirits. The Ocean can’t be two things. Right?

WRONG

Yue: “The legends say the Moon was the first waterbender. Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves.”

The Moon--singular. The Tides--plural (push and pull)

Lion Turtle: “In the era before the Avatar, we bent not the elements, but the energy within our senses.”

The moon pushing and pulling the tide is the moon bending the energy of its world.

Katara finding balance between “being too weak to do it” or “strong enough not to” is her bending the energy within herself.

It’s two solutions written as a question but said as a statement.

Yue: “Our ancestors saw how it pushed and pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves”

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ABOUT AANG AND ZUKO LEARNING FROM KATARA. Katara had already learned from Aang and Zuko all leading up to TSR. That was her studying. TSR was her test.

TSR is Zuko’s and Aang’s studying. Sozin’s Comet is their test.

Bato: “For Sokka, the Mark of the Wise. The same mark your father earned. For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us. And for Aang, the Mark of the Trusted. You are now an honorary member of the Water Tribe.”

Aang - Wise (”you’re pretty wise for a kid”)

Katara - Brave (the same mark her mother earned)

Zuko - Trusted (”I was the first person to trust you”)

Sokka - Bato ("I am to have no part in this--you pass or fail on your own.”)

Yin and Yang are nothing without their dance. The Avatar and the Firelord mean nothing if they don’t have a world to rebuild.

The valley means nothing if there isn’t anyone to live in it.

Fighting is useless if there isn’t someone to fight for, otherwise it is “selfish and stupid”

Katara had to have a reason to return from Yon Rha. She needed to have Aang waiting for her. If she didn’t have a reason to stay, then she wouldn’t have a reason to go.

To have a reason to sleep, a person has to have a reason to wake up.

Katara: “Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone; that it's all his responsibility.”

Hakoda: “Maybe that's his way of being brave.”

(Bato: “For Katara, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us.”)

Katara: “It's not brave! It's selfish and stupid! We could be helping him! And I know the world needs him, but doesn't he know how much we need him, too? How can he just leave us behind?!”

(It was, in fact, not easy for Aang to ‘do nothing’)

Katara: “I understand why you left. I really do, and I know that you had to go, so why do I still feel this way? I'm so sad and angry...and hurt.”

Hakoda: “I love you more than anything. You and your brother are my entire world. I thought about you every day when I was gone, and every night when I went to sleep, I would lie awake missing you so much it would ache.”

(AND YUE IS ONE OF THE ONES TO SAVE AANG IN THE OCEAN FOR A REASON)

Thinking and missing: a matter of mind (who) and heart (want).

Iroh: “Who are you? And what do you want?”

Sokka: “We need to go back. I wanna see Dad, but helping Aang is where we're needed the most.”

Mai: “I love Zuko more than I fear you.”

BUT YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT THE MOON FOR A HOT SECOND???

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT THE MOON

I’LL TELL YOU ABOUT 2 MOONS

OH REALLY???

OH REALLY, ZUKO

A FEW HOURS YOU SAY?

THEN TELL ME, ZUKO

WHY IS THE SUN GOING UP

WHEN IT IS THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT A FEW HOURS LATER

AND KATARA IS SLEEPING SO YOU CAN’T TELL ME IT’S BECAUSE YOU RISE WITH THE SUN OTHERWISE SHE’D BE WIDE AWAKE DURING THE FULL MOON THAT SHE USES TO BLOODBEND NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES LATER

THIS, MY FRIENDS, IS A HARVEST MOON

WHICH IS THE LAST FULL MOON OF THE SUMMER

(and looks off color when it rises/falls because of the angle of the rise/fall in the atmosphere...it’s normal once overhead)

AND SYMOLIZES HISTORY REPEATING ITSELF

“We’re going to find the MAN who took my mother from me.”

“That’s him. That’s the MONSTER.”

8 spokes on the wheel

Katara was 8 when Kya was killed

8 steps to enlightenment (the “Eightfold Path”)

8 phases of the moon

8 faces of Koh

“One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me! Be it 8 or 9 hundred years ago” (but time is an illusion, so hundreds mean nothing)

THE OTHER TWO MOONS THAT ARE CONSUMING MY EVERY WAKING MOMENT???:

1.) The WOLF MOON--the first full moon of the new year (a love between the wolf and the moon in the harshest winters...connection is kindof obvious lmao)

2.) THE THUNDER MOON

The Thunder Moon is the full moon of July. It is also known as the Buck Moon--for when young buck regrow their antlers.

Yue: “My hair turned white.”

Zuko: *cuts and re-grows his hair*

Aang: “I have hair?”

The Thunder Moon--the full moon of July--is also the beginning of a certain Buddhist holiday.

DHARMA DAY

WHICH CELEBRATES THE BEGINING OF BUDDHISM AND THE FIRST OF THE 8 STEPS (the first spoke of the Dharma Wheel) TOWARDS ENLIGHTENMENT

AVATAR IS ALL ABOUT CYCLES

THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS IS ALL ABOUT BREAKING THEM

I haven’t even touched Jung, Koh, Hinduism, and Buddhism yet

or the fact that Katara and Kya are the only characters in the entire series to wear moons on their clothing and that, together, they form an actual lunar phenomenon

or why the spirit oasis isn’t a complete circle

or the fact that this thing that Aang is told to chase is just like Whaletail Island:

or how important the Great Divide and the Solstice are

AND I’M JUST GETTING STARTED

BECAUSE EVERYTHING IN THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS--RIGHT DOWN TO THE SOUND DESIGN--IS ABSOLUTELY MONUMENTAL IN UNDERSTANDING THE SHOW, ITS MESSAGE, ENERGYBENDING, AND LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE

TLDR: Idk how the heck I’m going to arrange or articulate this analysis because it is WILD. Be warned: There is literally no exact beginning and ending to this analysis because the whole point of Yin and Yang is that is has no beginning or ending (...kindof...), so you’ll have to bear with me once I’m done editing it into something that’s somewhat coherent.

These are just SOME of the things I’ve been able to answer with my moon theory and analysis of The Southern Raiders as it currently stands:

Why “letting go” isn’t really letting go (as we understand it...see: Aang’s confrontation with Koh)

Why Lake Laogai and the Spirit World are symbolically the same thing.

Zuko’s advice to the bullfrog is actually a summary of the show, energybending, the origin of bending, and the definition of Aang’s “forgiveness” I stg

Why “Sokka’s instincts” are the reason Katara yells at Sokka

Believe it or not, every time Katara mentions her mother, it is at specific times for specific reasons.

^^^same thing for the moon, lack of moon, moon positioning, etc.

Katara’s mother’s necklace is more important than we realize.

Who the faces of Koh are and WHY they are there.

The true meaning of Jet’s sacrifice.

Why Jet’s episode about the dam explains the entirety of TSR as it pertains to Katara (all the way down to the little girl who runs to get her doll after the dam breaks)

Why Katara actually DID forgive Yon Rha, and the fact that she doesn’t even know it is proof that she did

^^^^^Aang’s definition of forgiveness is completely misunderstood by the fandom, and the way he “forgives” is sososo much deeper than “moving on”, and it is DEFINATELY by no means “doing nothing” or “excusing” past actions.

The importance of lightning, Zuko, Aang, and Katara.

The absolutely monumental and not nearly talked about importance of Jeong-Jeong like holy crap.

How Katara and Azula are just as much of a Yin and Yang as Zuko and Aang but not in the way we think they are

Why Koh has the Blue Spirit’s face

Why Koh DOESN’T have the Painted Lady’s face.

Who Ni-Ni from Katara’s campfire story in The Puppetmaster is

How and why Iroh was able to learn firebending from the Masters even though he didn’t have a partner.

How/Why Azula had her breakdown and why she saw her mother in the mirror

Why “Leaves from the Vine” and “Four Seasons” are the same song, explain Azula’s downfall, and explain the Yin and Yang of TSR.

Why Katara and Sokka are so often mistaken for parental figures.

Why Aang’s flashbacks to the Air Nomads are so important in understanding TSR.

Why Toph and Suki disappear after the campfire in TSR.

How Hakoda, Gyatso, and Kya are all connected.

Why it is so dang important that Azula shows up in the beginning of TSR.

The importance of the Spirit Oasis.

Energybending, healing with waterbending, Aang’s trauma, and Zuko’s scar.

Why Zuko gives Katara the exact opposite advise in TSR that he gave her in the catacombs.

How everything could be predicted and read by the moon.

WHY YIN AND YANG ARE THREE THINGS AND HAVE ALWAYS BEEN THREE THINGS.

HOW ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OF THIS TIES BACK TO THE MOON AND BUDDHIST BELIEFS--AND YEAH THE MOON AND BUDDHISM AND HINDUISM ARE MORE CONNECTED IN ATLA THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE.

AND HOW IT LEADS INTO OUR MODERN UNDERSTANDING OF THE SELF--BECAUSE JUNG TOOK GREAT INFLUENCE IN HIS DEVELOPING THEORY OF THE CONSCIOUS AND THE SUBCONSCIOUS FROM THE HINDU/BUDDHIST RELIGIONS

^^^^AND ALSO THE THEORY OF THE SHADOW AND THE PERSONA

The ocean is a deep, dark, unknown place with a lot of hidden monsters (like Yon Rah). Katara needed a light to find her monster, but she also needed somewhere she could breathe when she came back up for air.

If she didn’t have both Zuko and Aang, Katara would have drowned.

I wasn’t kidding when I said this was a thesis, and what I’ve said and listed here isn’t even all that I have.

btw This all does line up on the traditional Yin Yang symbol we know and see in the show, but I don’t have enough space here for that lmao. That’ll be in the analysis

I hope you enjoyed this little taste, my friend, because I need to sit down for a hot second before my brain leaks out of my ears. Sorry for the ramble. I promise the analysis isn’t like this lol. This is just me trying to summarize as best as I can.

***Disclaimer: My points are always subject to change since I am still researching. These are the facts as I’ve found and applied them to the evidences I’ve noted from in the show. I’m always open for friendly discussion or any directions to better sources on Buddhism/Tao/Jung!***

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strayinvelvet · 4 years

Text

tight-lipped

There’s a long list of stupid things one could do when in love and that includes hiding the stupid emotion even after five years.

↳ pairing: han jisung x reader

↳ genre: mostly fluff with teeny tiny sprinkle of angst

↳ wc: 3.1k

↳ warning: swearing

“Making it to the president’s list really does have its perks, huh? I mean come on, it’s only our first day of but the professor already knows you.”

You could only laugh at your friend’s remarks. Your friend, Hyunjin, continued rambling on how the university favors that damn list so much and how you should share its perks – all while walking and not looking at a single thing in the hallway.

“You should probably look at where you are walking, Hyunjin,” you said without looking at him.

Your eyes lit up upon the sight of the vending machine in the corner of the hallway just before the stairs. You took it as a sign for you to take your daily coffee. You stopped in front of it, with Hyunjin following you, and fed it coins then pressed the button for your favorite can of coffee. “Coffee again? We don’t even have that much work yet?” You claimed your coffee, opening it before turning to Hyunjin. “You know I can’t function without it.” You said before smelling the strong scent of coffee, feeling like it was the perfect blend of coffee beans to wake up your sleepy soul. You took a sip and instantly, you were more alert than before.

“Whatever you say.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes at your actions. Truly, he has never seen anyone act like that once they get their hands on coffee. The two of you continued walking through the hallway with Hyunjin greeting some people on the way. Social butterfly, that is what he is. You snorted at him once he was done waving to the latest. “Are you running for a seat or something?” you asked him as you took the last sip of your coffee. “That’s called being friendly, y/n. Try it sometimes, you know. Without that scary looking face.” You almost threw the empty can to his face but you just rolled your eyes and nudged his arm with your elbow which he quickly dodged. He has memorized your actions throughout the two years he has known you.

The both of you were out of the building when Hyunjin suddenly remembered his new schedule. “Oh I have another class in a bit,” grunting at the fact that his classes are basically one after another this semester. “I don’t. Bye.” You stuck your tongue out at him then ran off to the opposite side of where his building is. Hyunjin only laughed at your back before turning around and walking to his building.

You have been walking for a long time when you realized that you don’t know where you are going. You stopped on your tracks and looked around. When you spotted a bench across where you are standing, you decided to approach it and sat down. You dropped your bag beside you and took a good look at your surroundings.

The day was good. Too good for your liking. The sun is shining perfectly, it was neither too bright nor too dull, yet it was blinding your eye. The leaves were colored auburn with streaks of yellow and faint accents of green. They were dancing to the slow yet smooth rhythms of the wind. It was so smooth that it almost demanded to be felt. You tightened your coat, rejecting the wind’s request of touch. It was when an orange leaf fell on your lap did you release a sad smile.

It was autumn. The season you hated the most. The season which makes your heart melancholic like it was being brought back to the time you wanted so hard to burn in your memories. You touched the leaf, feeling its rough surface. You didn’t want to but as the leaf made crisp sounds as a response to your touch, you suddenly found yourself reminiscing the memory of a man you wish to forget.

“Han Jisung!”

Your rowdy classmate shouted across the room, trying to gain the boy’s attention. His eyes, however, are busy staring at your figure. That same classmate ran out of patience, approached Jisung and slapped his hand on Jisung’s desk. “Come on, man. We’re going to play some games.” Jisung looked up in annoyance and shoved the man away, “Go by yourselves Felix. I’m busy.” He tried to return his gaze to you but it wasn’t too long when Felix interrupted him again.

“Busy what? Daydreaming about y/n?” Series of teasing cheers can soon be heard all over the room and Jisung couldn’t help but smile shyly. “Am I that obvious?” Jisung asked curiously. “Obvious my ass. Everyone practically knows,” Felix slapped the other boy’s shoulder. The moment his gaze landed back to your seat, you were gone. Jisung hurriedly packed his stuff and went towards the door, trying to catch up with you.

Han Jisung was a transferee in ninth grade but he was able to make friends almost immediately. He was this aloof, outgoing guy who always makes jokes and gets along with everyone. Heck, he was able to befriend the whole classroom two days after his transfer, and the whole batch a month in his stay. So you really didn’t know why, out of all people he managed to be friends with, it is you who he decided to annoy every single day.

It was lunch time, a week after his transfer, when he approached you the first time. He waved and did not say anything at all. You thought he was weird but you ended up smiling slightly before exiting the room for lunch. It was that same lunch time when he approached your table then asked you and your friends if he can sit beside you. You were questioning his whole personality at that point.

What is wrong with this guy? You didn’t want to say yes but that would surely make you look rude. But then again, you didn’t care. Before you were able to say no, he was pulled by your other classmate Felix. Your eyes followed their backs but Jisung’s eyes were still looking your way. You decided to just shrug it off, thinking the weird interaction would end there. Boy, you were wrong.

Jisung wasn’t sitting beside you in class but one morning, you found him sitting at the seat to your right. You took your seat and placed your bag under your desk when he spoke, “Hi y/n.” you looked at him and he was smiling so widely. His head was propped on his palms. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why this new guy is trying to make a conversation with you. “Uhm... hi? You ate something weird this morning?”

You thought Jisung’s smile couldn’t go any wider but it just did. “No. No, I didn’t. Uhm… Did you… Do you… How do you like your eggs cooked?” All you could do was mentally say hah? with your mouth opened as if you said it vocally.

Meanwhile, Jisung mentally slapped himself for coming up with a stupid question. That was all he could get from his brain which went rambles just because you asked him if he had eaten anything for breakfast. Maybe that is not the exact question but it’s getting there. He was about to clear himself up from the embarrassment when the teacher entered the room. “Talk to you later.” He stood up and went to his original seat, motioning for the guy who was originally seated to your right to go back. All you could think of was please don’t.

The next morning, you found the same scene. Jisung seating at the seat to your right. Then, he will flood you questions of how was your sleep, did you eat breakfast yet, and many more.

The next morning, it was still like that.

And the next.

Soon, you found yourself being greeted every morning with a smiley Jisung. Your replies were never long enough for a long conversation but he somehow managed to find topics to ask you more questions. Often times you were subtly hinting that you want to brush him off but he doesn’t seem to notice. The attempts to push him off always dissolve in thin air so finally, you just let him be. Maybe it was his way of making friends.

You didn’t notice yourself expecting a Han Jisung by your seat until one morning, he wasn’t there. You scanned the room and saw him writing furiously in his seat, frequently looking at Felix’s paper who was also writing before copying what he saw onto his paper.

“Felix I can’t understand your handwriting.”

“You’re not in the position to complain.”

“Just move your tiny hands.”

Ah, he was doing his homework that the three forgot to do the night before. Jisung was trying his best to finish his damn homework as fast as possible. He still has something important to do. Good thing it was just five items. Five minutes before the first class, he was finally done. He shoved his paper to Felix and Seungmin who still weren’t, slammed his pen on the table then rushed to your seat. You looked up from your phone and saw him grinning, breathing slightly faster than normal. “I’m done with my homework. How was your sleep?”

That’s it. The moment he was waiting for. He had managed to make you crack a smile while saying, “Stupid.” His smile only growing wider in response.

Annoying you in the mornings apparently wasn’t enough for him. You decided to kill time after class in the library before you go home because you are 100% sure you’ll accept your bed’s tempting invitation. Your book was sprawled in front of you. Your headphones separating you from the rest of the world. Your feet was resting on top of the seat across you. You were focused on your assignment when the seat across you were pulled making you curse out loud. You removed your earphones and said sorry multiple times to the people around you. You looked hardly at Jisung: the boy behind the act. He was grinning, as always. “Sorry.” He said holding up a peace sign. He sat down and asked you “Why are you still here?” to which you only replied, “What do you want?”

He only blinked at you. You blinked back. “You’re not going home?”

“Later,” you replied shortly before going back to your work.

“Later? It’s eight?” You shot your head up at him. He was showing his phone which says it’s almost eight in the evening. You looked outside and realized it has already gotten dark. You immediately fixed your stuff and muttered a soft thank you before bolting through the door. Jisung quickly got up from his seat and caught up to you. “What’s wrong?” the both of you were walking-running out of the school grounds. “My next bus is at eight.” You said while huffing. You felt your hands being covered in warmth and then suddenly, you were running with Jisung leading you.

Both of you were panting when you reached the bus stop. Unfortunately, it was fifteen minutes past eight. Jisung sat down while huffing, you following him not soon after. Once you have regained your breath, you faced Jisung. “Sorry for making you run for nothing.” Jisung looked at you, smiled, before sitting up straight. “When’s the next one?”

“8:45”

“Oh. That’s only about 30 minutes,” he said after looking at his phone.

“You’re going to wait?”

“Yes.” He said giddily.

“Do you ride the same bus?”

“No.”

“When’s your bus?”

“9:00”

You silently said oh, realizing you assumed wrongly.

Silence fell soon as the both of you were too tired to talk until a question popped up in your head. “What were you doing in school at this hour?” He looked at you. “I was… uhm… I fell asleep.” He grinned widely. “Are you trying to befriend me?” You asked the question you were meaning to ask him for a while now. Jisung only looked at you for a while before answering, “can I?” It was now your turn to stare at him. “Who asks people for friendship permission these days?” You mumbled before looking away. However, Jisung heard it and laughed lightly.

The whole course of waiting, you realized Jisung is the type of man who never runs out of something to say. His brain must be working fast, you concluded. He would tell a story. You would laugh and then tell your own version. You didn’t notice the time fly so when your bus arrived, you were partly sad now that you will be alone again in silence. You stood up and only waved him a goodbye before running up to your bus. Jisung watched you with a smile on his face, watching as the bus drove out of his sight before he waited for a couple of minutes for his bus.

Days passed and you found yourself spending more time with Jisung or more like Jisung annoying the heck out of you. Apart from the morning talks and library rendezvous, Jisung started walking you to the bus stop. Sometimes he would say he saw on the way or he forgot to return something but most of the time, he just “hi” his way to walking you. He had also started joining you at lunch whenever your other friends were busy due to your schedule difference. Sometimes he would take something from your food then stuck his tongue out before devouring it. Sometimes you just want the soil to devour his whole existence. Most of the time you just want to slap him. When he failed to get your attention, he would throw a piece of paper at you. And you, in return, would throw him a much bigger piece of paper and he would end up laughing and getting his ass beaten by the teacher. It was your turn to stick your tongue at him.

It wasn’t really annoying if you think about it. It is just that you are easily annoyed and Jisung knew that better. So he continued annoying you in every little things until he was able to finally make you lose your cool.

It was the last day of ninth grade. Some were goofing around while some were decorating the room including Jisung, celebrating the end of the year. You were just in the corner waiting for your diploma, watching at how stupid your classmates look like. Boredom got into you so you decided to visit Luna, your other friend, in the other classroom. You stood up, about to exit the door when a snap of a scissor made you stop. You turned around and saw Jisung holding one with Felix and Seungmin at his back, the three of them frozen. You followed jisung’s gaze and noticed one side of your hair was shorter than the rest. He had accidentally cut a part of your hair to shoulder length.

You didn’t know if you were going to be furious or mad. It froze you as well, of course. Felix expected you to scream. Seungmin expected you to storm out. While Jisung -

“What the fuck?”

- expected you to say just that. The only thing he could mutter was “So-sorry.” You did storm out, Jisung following you after. You were walking fast when he grabbed your arm and made you face him. “Look, I am really really sorry. We were playing around and I saw you coming and I was about to use you as my shield from them but then…” He touched the hair he accidentally cut but you slapped his hand away. “I can accompany you to the salon.” He tried to offer as an act of apology. “I don’t want to be with you, though,” you turned around and continued walking to your friend’s classroom.

The day ended and you were walking to your bus stop alone this time. Your hair was tied behind your back by Luna who lend you her hairtie. Your head was hung low the whole time until you reached the bus stop and heard a familiar voice.

“Y/N I am really sorry.” Jisung said the moment he saw your figure.

“Stop it now.” You said without looking at him, sitting at the far end of the bench under the stop.

“I really have time today and I hope you do as well so I can accompany you to the salon. I’ll even pay-”

“Can I just ask why do you like bothering me so much?” you finally looked at him and cut him off his words. “It’s not just about the hair. You are literally sticking to my side ever since you moved here. You aren’t even like this to Felix or Seungmin. You appear everywhere I go like a mushroom. Seriously? Is it because of my so-called reputation?”

Taken aback, he looked at you with softness in his eyes. You couldn’t read what he was thinking and you were thankful that you couldn’t because the next words he said stunned you.

“I just.. I just like you.”

A leaf which fell exactly a centimeter away from your face snapped you out of your thoughts. How funny. You managed to memorize every single detail even if it was years ago. Years. All those years that passed since you left, you thought you have moved on. You thought wrong. You have tried different ways for your mind to not drift off to that man. But you couldn’t deny the butterflies it gave you whenever his annoying ass would appear in your thoughts. You could only laugh at how pathetic your situation looks like. You thought you were desperate to forget about him but maybe you weren’t desperate enough to burn the effects he had on you.

Out of nowhere, you felt the same butterfly that made you nervous. You stopped in your tracks when you realized what made them fly again. A laugh. You can hear steps approaching you accompanied by a laugh that was too familiar. A laugh that sounded so melodic and made you smile even if there was nothing to smile at. A laugh that you weren’t sure if you were ready to hear yet.

Fear and panic enveloped your body. You immediately dropped the leaf you were holding and grabbed your bag ready to leave until a familiar face was directly in front of you.

The butterflies intensified; your heart skipped a few beats.

The wind brushed past the both of you, sending you shivers.

But the only thing you felt was warmth.

The warmth that was Han Jisung.

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stray kids au #han jisung au #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #han jisung fluff #han x you #stray kids x reader #han jisung #stray kids #i finally posted it #not sure if i'm going to post the whole series tho #i feel like it's so... meh #so here's the supposedly chapter 1 #still not sure what to do with it hehe

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