#is canon without needed interference

[ilovemyqueerattorneys]

Ace Attorney, despite not being as bad as some other fandoms, has this issue as well. Edgeworth, Phoenix and Apollo take 70% of the fandom space, and while I understand they’re three main characters, so are Athena, Maya and, to an extent, Trucy and Pearls. I barely see anything for Pearls ( who is my favourite Ace Attorney character), but I see a lot of posts about Klavier, who is less present overall. I don’t get how he’s more popular than Franziska either, and I like the guy.

Hell, Edgeworth is my most used tag on here, because he’s the character I see the most content of, therefore, the one I’m the most likely to reblog. I wish I saw more content for AA women.

Do not get me started on The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles and Susato vs Kazuma, because this is even more ridiculous. She deserves so much more love. The fandom isn’t hostile towards women, but it tends to sideline them a LOT, and they’re central to the series. It is sad, really.

really is bizarre the way fandoms largely do not like women at ALL. it’s been happening for ages but when you see people straight up just hating on women characters more often now (+ the general rise in misogyny) and then you come on here and everyone’s just pretending women don’t even EXIST in any media ever. it’s like that’s not much better. fandom isn’t activism but it does reveal people’s internal biases. like women being excluded, sidelined and erased in everythingggg. people will take characteristics that are compelling in a female character and give it to a man in fan content just so they don’t have to engage with a woman ever. fics, fan art, ships, etc. a hollywood produced movie/tv show won’t even sideline a woman as much as the average fandom blogger will

[parchmentknight]

realizing that i am an outlier in fandoms because i do not ship anyone with anyone

[tockamybeloved]

. Will probably delete later.

[evergreen-endo]

TELOMERES — y. endo

cw: 18+ mdni. blasphemy, allusions to religious iconography(?); endo views reader as something like a god that needs to be worshipped. and he also cries during sex (canon). wc: 600 :P short lil thing.

Endo Yamato is a vessel.

Built with a desire to serve the divine, he is deeply fulfilled by being used to please you. If you never asked, he wouldn’t dare to interfere with something so sacred— never would have thought he deserved to fill you up when your existence beside him is enough to make him feel full.

And yet, so graciously, you let him in. 

It fascinates him– the way your body morphs to eagerly fit him inside you. It almost feels blasphemous; this erotic display of want, need, for him alone? 

Your pussy drools its affection as he pushes himself deeper inside. He brings a crooked finger down to where it drips, pooling on the sheets, distraught at the thought of letting any part of you go without reverence. He’s hesitant when he brings his hand up to his lips, but your eyes meet his in silent permission. His breath catches in his throat before he wraps his lips around the digit, eyes fluttering shut with bliss at the taste of you. 

His heart slams inside his chest, a contrast against the achingly slow roll of his hips— the increasingly wet sounds spurring on his high. 

Endo can’t rip his eyes away from where the two of you connect. He feels at home inside of you, like could he melt into you— merge with you. You greet him with such a warm welcome, sucking him inside so greedily as if he’s everything you need, like a lifeline. He knows he doesn’t deserve to place himself on the same pedestal as you, but the thought makes him feel so warm inside, all flushed cheeks and butterflies because to feel so desired is a dream. 

He takes in a sharp inhale at the all too familiar tingle that shoots up from his heart and settles between his eyes. Warmth stings around his tear ducts and the corners of his vision blur. It irks him not to see you clearly for even a second, and he blinks rapidly, warm tears splattering onto your chest until you’re no longer hazy. A lovesick grin splits across his face— breathy laughs escaping him as tears drip steadily from his cheeks. 

Endo’s bottom lip wobbles in awe when he realizes your eyes are on him too. His hand flies to your face, thumb stroking your cheek like you were the one crying. He pants declarations of your beauty against your lips like a mantra. It’s not that he thinks you need the reminder— not with the way you carry yourself, or take his breath away with every glance— but he is never shy to praise you. 

Against his lips, you whisper so lightly he thinks he could’ve dreamed it. Never in his lifetime could he imagine you’d will him to become a part of you. A lowly vessel like himself, ingrained into something so holy. He has half a mind to deny your request, to tell you spilling inside you is an act of desecration. But who is he to deny you? 

So he rolls his hips the way that makes you arch your back, his tears rolling into the divots of your collarbones and up your neck. You glisten, chest raised to the heavens, lips parted in the shape of pleasure. He feels you coming undone before your sweet voice can manage to ring out, and he rubs gentle circles on your clit in acknowledgment. It’s funny, he thinks, how this is the best he has to give when he is fulfilled simply by your allowance of him in your presence. He weeps, grateful, warm tears splattering once again on the exposed flesh of your chest while he fills you up.

[muqingslover]

[ I absolutely adore Caleb and recently I've entered my Zayne era so today I want to talk about their relationship. (not based on canon just the voices in my head) ]

Yes they might have their issues but I wouldn't say they outright hate each other's guts. I believe they would actually be really good friends if their feelings for you wasn't part of the equation. Their dynamic works out sooooo good for one another if it wasn't for the conflict of interest it actually pains me that we won't see them getting along GRAAAH Infold I beg of you give me content of them together

Like I've mentioned before I like to think that their beef is mostly one-sided which, to me, means Zayne would be the more "mature" of the pair. He has a naturally caring nature so despite being aware Caleb doesn't like him (and they're technically competing for your heart) he can't help but worry about him, especially because you care about him.

Each time boy wonder showed up with bruises and scratches from practice or some other endeavor Zayne would force him to sit down and let him take a look by using the argument of "Do you want them to worry? Then sit. I'll make it quick."

Another sweet thought is Zayne coming over after his classes and finding you and Caleb dozing off while studying together. He would cover both with a blanket and remove anything that could interfere with your or his sleep (music playing, turning off the TV, glasses ECT)

Meanwhile Caleb reads him better than anyone. He may complain about how Zayne is so "stone faced" the whole time, but he KNOWS exactly what he's thinking and feeling for most of the time without even really trying. It's a skill he picked up while growing up — He always paid so much attention to the details for your sake that at some point he ended up getting very good at reading people in general.

What this means you may ask? Well my lovelies, Caleb is much more confident in expressing himself and he knows how to refuse requests he feels uncomfortable with or simply don't want to do (safe it for when they're about/from you) but Zayne not always can do that. In fact, during his early years, he was absolutely terrible at it and guess who came to rescue? That's right, our boy wonder.

"Please Zayne, just cover for me one more time?"

'...Oh, alrig—"

"Whoa whoa hold your horses! Sub-Zero has plans with me so no can't do, man."

"We don't—"

"Shush. Grab your things, let's go!"

He tells himself it's only because if Zayne worked himself to death then you would be worried about him and Caleb doesn't want to share any more attention than what he already has to. It's true of course, but not the full truth.

Caleb will pick up where he can't fully express himself by understanding what he wants without words while Zayne will be the rock he could lean on even if he is too stubborn to admit he needs the support because he doesn't feel the need to be the "perfect gege" like when with you.

[ I will continue to push the Zayne and Caleb agenda so come along for the ride pookies 🤭 ]

[psychemochanight]

So... Dick Grayson's Headcanons :D (this gonna be a long post-)

Some mine and some from the fandom!

Obviously not all of them (I don't have all of them in mind right now), but as you know, we will continue to post them here anyway🤙

And I already mentioned some of them before, but I'll mention some of them again anyway.

First I remind you that these are just HC and/or things that I like to project onto the character, you don't have to agree or share them with me, if you don't like one, just skip it please, you don't need to come here to discuss because of a HC of a fictional character.

I also advise that, although I always try to ensure that the HCs do not interfere with the canon, some may contradict it (mostly because I forget certain details of the canon- lmao).

Disclaimer made (?), let's go to it ✨

Dick has the body of a person who does calisthenics, an acrobat's body, indeed, more than that of an Olympic male gymnast.

(Ignoring canon on the first one, lmao). But yes, I like to think that Dick doesn't have as much muscle as Bruce, that way he can keep his flexibility intact, because, no matter how flexible you are, if you have too much muscle, you lose mobility, so, yeah. Still, he have more muscle than the average acrobat, but not as much as a gymnast... Kinda sleeper build.

Many heroes thought Dick was a meta.

Mainly due to his flexibility, others for more silly things like being able to understand Flash when he speaks.

Dick has a very messy eating schedule, He often forgets to eat and sometimes eats twice as much, not because he is hungry, but because he has forgotten whether he has eaten or not.

He doesn't eat much junk food, although he is constantly on a sugar rush. Anyway, thanks to Bitewing he has a better schedule now, since he doesn't forget to feed her, and he takes advantage of the opportunity to eat something too. He still doesn't sleep enough tho.

Although he seems to be the most relaxed in his family, he is the second most paranoid after Bruce.

Paranoia + anxiety, more specifically. He takes it as best he can.

Ironically, despite his paranoia, he is the one who trusts the others the most in his entire family; but he always has a plan in his head in case he is betrayed.

He doesn't have anger issues, not all the time at least... The poor guy is just overstimulated.

Except when he is underestimated for being a "pretty boy", then the anger is real.

He is quick to learn to play instruments given his high muscle memory and keen ear.

Canonically he knows how to play guitar and also some piano.

Although Bruce knows more languages, Dick is the most fluent in them.

Bruce knows the languages, but he makes the typical mistake of thinking in his native language and then translating. Dick does have the ability to think directly in other languages.

When he gets angry, Dick talks very fast and starts mixing up languages, so even though Bruce knows all the languages Dick is speaking, can't keep up because he needs to translate everything.

Continuing with languages, I like YJ's idea of Dick butchering the English language... So, yeah, he actually does that.

But he doesn't do it because English is not his first language (even if he has Romani ancestry, his first language will probably be English, since it was the common language in the circus), but because he has spoken too many languages since he was little, then they get mixed up in his mind and when a word doesn't come to mind in English, he just makes up another one. Sometimes he just says the word in another language.

Another one about languages: even if he canonically only speaks 10-12 languages, for me he actually speaks/understands many more, he's just not fluent in them so he doesn't count them.

He is an AUDHD person, without diagnosis, but on more than one occasion his friends said it to him.

Barbara especially, has been telling him this since they were younger.

As an added bonus: AUDHD is harder to diagnose than ADHD or autism alone, since it is known that the characteristics of each one can diminish or even cancel the characteristics of the other; at the same time, it can increase other traits, but these may be wrongly attributed to other conditions.

I say this as someone from the field of psychology, please don't think I'm making this up.

So, Most of the "weird" things they noticed about Dick they attributed to his growing up environment and subsequent PTSD... Which is partly true, but not entirely true.

He knows too many random facts that no one knows where he learned them from, not even him.

He's on the asexual spectrum, probably demisexual, and biromantic.

This doesn't mean that he can't "enjoy" it, but he definitely doesn't feel the same as he doesn't feel a real attraction due to the lack of connection.

He liked the rain.

It's not exactly a trigger, but he doesn't like it like he used to.

If you understand, you understand.

He doesn't like compliments about his physical appearance, but he responds egocentrically to compliments about his other qualities, although this is to hide his shame, he does not know how to take compliments.

He prefers to act to hide his embarrassment, otherwise he ends up as a bundle of nerves.

He definitely did the thing more than once where he went to Metropolis and jumped off a building to get Clark's attention instead of visiting him like a normal person.

He loves it when his friends are the ones who initiate the hugs, especially since most of them lift him off the ground when they hug him. He'll never say it, but he loves this.

Although he acts like an older brother to everyone, the moment someone older is with him, he becomes an annoying younger brother.

He only does it with people he trusts, tho, since it requires him to let his guard down a little.

This is a very normal trait in older siblings, actually, and most of the time it is unconscious, and it is even more common if they were only children for a long time.

He likes to act dumb so the bad guys will underestimate him.

The bad thing is that sometimes even his family forgets that he is also considered a genius.

Here we ignore what DC did with Dick by making him more focused on leadership, he was always a child prodigy and always will be.

Alfred taught him to clean in specific ways because Dick complained a lot about the texture that certain objects had if they were not cleaned properly.

He also taught him cooking tricks, because otherwise Dick would starve because he doesn't like to eat many things.

He only likes chips... And also football.

It's pretty good in all kinds of art, He may not be a artist like Damian, or a dancer like Cass, but he holds his own in those disciplines as well.

He mainly uses drawing to draw structures or spoken portraits rather than for artistic and recreational purposes.

He only dances at events to which he is invited or any type of mission that requires it.

Tbf, canonically, he does know how to draw and dance, it is the reasons why he does them that is a HC.

He also knows how to do things like sewing and so on, his mother taught him to fix his own clothes.

He doesn't have a favorite color, but he tells people it's blue because it just makes sense to everyone.

He likes to wear superhero merch.

He can't stay in an office for the sake of his sanity, prefers dynamic jobs.

He also changes jobs very often even though he is good most of them, he gets bored.

He took too many online courses, he just never claims certification so it looks like he didn't study any degree.

Sometimes he just sits quietly with Damian watching animal documentaries without a narrator.

He often complains that Bruce never let him have a pet.

He knows perfectly well why he couldn't, he never had time to take care of one, he just likes to complain about it.

He is the one who scares his siblings the most, but none of them admit it.

He is the most stealthy (with Cass), a consequence of his bright yellow coat when he was a kid. Jason is the next stealthiest, but Dick is the one with the "light feet."

He definitely understands synesthesia.

He discussed many times with people about what color Monday is and what number is orange.

Summer is too hot and winter is too cold, he is team temperate, thank you very much.

He listens to music very often, he also sings to himself whenever he is not listening to music.

He knows lullabies in several languages, even those he doesn't actively speak.

He helps comfort frightened small children, and entertains older children with juggling and magic tricks.

His resistance to pain is terrifying, but when he is in serious pain, his childhood accent becomes thick.

He camouflages his childhood accent as an adult, adopting the Gotham accent, but can still use his real accent or imitate any other.

He often imitates the voices of the people he is talking to when they are being hypocritical, or simply to annoy them.

Although he mostly makes bad jokes, he is actually more than capable of making genuinely very funny jokes and pranks, he simply made bad jokes part of his personality since they were the ones that made Bruce laugh the most.

Although he grew up in the circus and knows more swear words than he should, he's not really a person who casually swears. He grew up being around people, especially children, so he knows how to control himself pretty well in that regard.

However, he knows how to destroy someone with words in a much more damaging way than with simple insults, even more than insulting them in every language there is and will be.

He looks pretty all the time, this annoys his friends and especially his brothers a lot.

Cass doesn't care about it, she finds it interesting and kind of funny.

He likes to braid Donna's hair. <3

And this is all that comes to my mind right now, but I will add more in reposts if I remember others, because I know I have more- especially since I didn't actually add HC of him as Robin or Nightwing-

And if you notice any mistakes, sorry, writing too much actually messes with my brain... and my English-

Edit: Here's part 2 :D

[burgerrat]

"No one gets me like you do."

Harley Sawyer x Reader

NOTE: gender-neutral reader, mentions of gore, threats of violence & light angst.

(I'm gonna be honest the positive feedback with my headcanons made me wanna make s'more Harley stuff. Praying that I kept his personality as close to I think he'd act canonically. Ough

My main inspiration behind this was dovewingkinnie's art piece mixed with that scene in Sonic 2 where Dr. Robotnik's grabbing Agent Stone's face

Aaaaandddd the prompt that makes the title comes from melamemea's prompt list here!

Hope you enjoy!)

It felt like you had been watching the procedure for years, when only 30 minutes had passed by as the Doctor poked and prodded at some unfortunate, sedated Smiling Critter's insides.

Sprawled on an operating table as a robotic, three-fingered limb attached to the ceiling of the room, worked away with a scalpel; a mechanic vessel bent over the operating table, a singular, wide eye displayed on it's screen as it observed the process, also lending its pair of hands, when they were of need. 

He was gruesome in his work, yet his hand was gentle in the most skilled of ways, in however form it came.

A professional in his field, until the very end.

"Do I really have to sit through this?" You huffed, resting your head in your palm.

You were spooned into another of Harley's vessels, sitting cross legged as the metal giant behind you remained still, like a protective shell.

"Squeamish, are we?" The Doctor casually asked, not bothering to actually acknowledge you with one of his physical forms.

"No! I just- ugh, how do you sit through this without falling asleep? It's not like taking a walk around inside here will be the death of me."

Soon as you responded, the scrap robot behind you hummed to life, the operation before your eyes coming to a pause quickly, and now... the screen of the vessel behind you turned on, displaying that oh so familiar eye.

"Your blathering is distracting enough." The Doctor hissed, his anger thinly boiling over.

"I might as well put you on that table instead. Perhaps you'll find my work more 'interesting' once it's skin-deep?" He chuckled.

This was Dr. Sawyer's attempt at humor, only his sadistic side could see the amusement about his threats.

But you knew better, you knew he bluffed each time, because he'd never acted upon it. Not when he was furious, not when you were asleep and vulnerable.

You glared at the vessel behind you, as if to say:

'do it, I dare you.'

The eye on the screen squinted, a quiet confrontation.

Then, dropping all hints of sadism, his voice returned, gentle and monotone.

"I cannot, and will not allow you out of my sight. Set one foot outside of my laboratories, and you'll be just another lamb to the slaughter, I can guarantee the probabilities." 

He'd told you this a million times before, each time more frustrated than the last that he had to deal with such a thick headed person.

His apathetic logic brought him once more to question why, why he kept you. Why did this type of recognition mean so much to him, when it came not only unprofessionally, but brought him objectively nothing?

"I know, I know, Harl. Look, I'm sorry-"

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His eye, once zoned out, focusing back on you.

Harl.

He liked the ring of that.

Only you bothered to give him nicknames like that.

He liked whatever this was that he was feeling, it... helped him relax.

"I just can't do it like you do- the patience. And at least you're doing something. Maybe I can be your assistan-?"

"Absolutely not." He interrupted before you had even completed your question.

"It's my work and my work alone. You may take notes if you wish, but I will not allow any interference. Especially from an unqualified hand." He sternly said.

You sighed in defeat, you knew how much his work meant to him, you happily engaged- but watching it actually happen? Much less intriguing (or violent, really) than you'd imagined at first.

"However..."

His sing-songy tone as he continued caught your attention. His metallic hands gently took hold of yours briefly, before they snaked up to cup your face, the vessel's head lowering slightly so his eye could analyze your expression. Your entire face, really.

You could feel your cheeks heating up slightly against the cold touch of the machine's fingers as they smushed your face gingerly, his fingers slowly moving in small, smooth circles.

"Mmm, yes... I think we can build a little enrichment area for this little mouse."

He purred, his eye squinting playfully.

He knew what he was doing.

For a moment, a brief moment, he indulged exactly what you wished for: more of his attention, his touch. His hands did not come off of your face at any point, one moved to knead your head as the other continued to study your physiognomy, observing your behaviour, taking mental notes.

But all good things must come to an end, regrettably. And, much as he cherished you, his work was more important, you (or anything else) weren’t above it.

"I do wish to study your reactions upon being presented with certain... situations." The Doctor trailed off as he readjusted his position around you, his consciousness switching back to the other vessel and the robotic arm hovering over the operating table, casually going back to digging his scalpel around the Smiling Critter’s guts mixed with stuffing. His tone became fully professional, as if he were discussing business with you.

"E-excuse me??" You babbled out, face still red from his probing.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I won't place you in any hostile environment. Since my surgeries are so boring to you, I might just have to leave you with some homework to do instead, mm?"

Once his response was met with silence, he continued.

"I'll just place a few seeds around a labyrinth for you to find and collect, and see how well your cognitive abilities are. After that? Who knows! I might reward you with some cheese." He mocked.

You raised an eyebrow, unamused.

"Fine. So long as I'm doing something." You huffed, earning a contented chuckle for a response from the Doctor as he worked.

You were tempted to ask him to elaborate instead of speaking about his metaphorical 'lab mouse', to satisfy your curiosity, but you didn't want him to think you doubted your safety around him... he'd kept you alive this far, was ever-so vigilant to make sure you were well and alive.

You trust him.

You care.

~

"Most would come to think I'd be laying some sort of trap. The logical outcome." Harley observed once he concluded his procedure on the Critter, the robotic arm once more going still, the vessel remaining active and now... focusing on you.

"Oh, to be so blissfully void of paranoia."

"Yes." You agreed, then shaking your head, "but I know you, Harley. You word it like we're strangers." You added. "I should be able to trust you."

Silence.

"Do you know why?" The Doctor vaguely asked, his monotone voice sounded like he was miles away, yet he was so close to you. The automaton had begun approaching, the one behind you had turned on again. Yet he seemed... disconnected.

Not in the technological sense of his vessels.

"Why won't you lay a trap for me...?" You tried to clarify, "or why I should be able to trust..?"

"Neither." He scoffed.

"Why it is human nature to seek pointless connections, such as this. Nothing of value is extracted, there are no means to an end. What's the value of a life, when it can mean so much more? When it can be so much more?"

You tilted your head slightly, raising to your feet.

"Why does it have to mean anything?" Your answer was another question.

"It has to mean something to me." He barked.

That hurt a little. No… maybe not his intention, but your expression changed, and it didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Don't I?" Your voice softened.

He made a noise, like he was about to respond, yet held himself back the moment the words were going to leave his speakers. The main vessel he was using to express himself retracted a little.

You'd caught him off guard enough to remain speechless.

Because you were right.

You meant something to him.

You, who interacted with him even when you had no need for him, unlike the company who'd betrayed him twice.

You, who listened, who liked him even through his irritable, sadistic nature.

You, the one person that came back to find him, even if there wasn't much left.

And it wasn't because of his research.

You came back, for him.

"Harl...?" Your voice quivered a little, concerned with what his reply would be. Now, you were starting to doubt your safety through the hurt.

"You do." 

His response came out quick but monotone, void of emotion.

He wasn't sure what to make of himself. He hated it when others displayed sympathy towards his experiments, but he was telling the truth: you meant something to him, and, much as he hated to come to terms with it, it wasn't for his research.

You sighed in relief, your expression softening as you looked to the ground.

"I apologize, I was merely... pondering." His tone now took on its usual, eloquent speech. Or at least he tried to keep it that way, like how he'd word a presentation.

"Wondering why humans need to seek... connections... what drives this.. urge. This feeling." He rasped that last bit with spite. He couldn't understand himself, this counterproductive hypocrisy, and oh how he hated it.

This was his indirect attempt of saying 'I'm sorry that I hurt you', having taken notice that his selfishness had actually caused damage to the one person who gave a damn to even look for him. It wasn't good by any stretch, but it was an attempt to mend things up with clarifications. 

"I don't think... you need to know specifically the why of it...we're social creatures, it's, uhm.. normal, to want connections.." you tried to explain, approaching the automaton, reaching to hold his hand.

Were he in his human body, he would've noticeably tensed at the contact.

"Why still bother, when you have been betrayed over, and over again? And the funniest part: there is no prize for it. It has no meaning." He spat, once again void of emotion. He was subtly venting at this point, really, not even trying to hide that he was talking about himself.

In this moment, his complete detachment from humanity matched with his current body.

"Must have some meaning, if our relationship is an indicator of it." You played with his hand, intertwining your fingers.

Even when he had little regard for how you felt, you gave him compassion. You cherish him.

"I don't understand what drives you to it. What compels me." The Doctor's grip tightened around your hand for a moment, frustrated.

Then, he relaxed, his other hand tenderly taking hold of yours. Even though he was machine, it was his gentle handling that reminded one that he was still a man, despite the sharp metal.

"But.. one thing I do know, is that no one gets me... like you do. There is something there... and I intend to study it, why you, and nobody else."

Part of you knew that you both knew what it was.

Perhaps he was in denial of it, or maybe this was another indirect attempt of his, to say 'I love you' in his own way.

[atalldrinkofcaprisun]

Don’t Wait For Me After I’m Gone (pt. 2)

silco x gn!reader - he didn’t die AU - tw: canon compliant violence, drug use - 18+

howdy!!! reposted and edited again! I’m having trouble with all of the links so sorry they’re not super functional right now. But anyways, I MISS MY WIFE TAILS!!

also on ao3 xx masterlist

The screaming was the worst part. You had been posted outside of The Doctor’s underground laboratory/cave for three hours now, under the orders not to enter unless you wanted to be sedated until the procedure was over.

When the Scientist arrived at the factory, he had started work immediately. The bullets nimbly extracted and quickly stitched, his hand feebly squeezing your own when he could. You had pressed kisses to his damp temples and pushed hair out of his face, back into his rumpled style. He’d even notice sometimes but it was clear he was in agony.

“It is good you kept that with you,” The Doctor nodded his head towards the injector lying cracked on the floor towards the far wall. You had thrown it off as soon as it had emptied, “He would have been unreachable if you had not administered the medicinal serum. It gave him just enough to hold on.”

“So, he’s going to be okay?” You asked, trying to give that little flame of hope in your chest something to fuel itself.

“He will survive, yes. Survival at least.” the bandaged man replied cryptically before returning his full attention to Silco, “I suggest making plans to move him to safety. Your opponents will be hunting for you soon if they haven’t started already.” He’d put a hand on your shoulder, “I know where they will not find you.”

Shortly afterwards, you had sprinted all the way back to The Last Drop. Exhausted and shaking, you’d only managed a stammering, “Silco. He’s- the warehouse…” before promptly passing out into Ran’s arms. You’d woken up in your bed, apparently you had only been out about 20 minutes.

Now, here you stood, arms crossed and leaning against a rough stone wall. Your nails dug into your skin, trying to center yourself. You couldn’t leave, not when he was in pain. Jinx had been permitted in. Whatever had transpired between Jinx and The Doctor had created a new trust. You had wanted to protest but when Jinx set Silco down on the examination table and sat quietly in a chair in the corner, her eyes not moving from Silco, you had surrendered. Jinx needed to know her father wasn’t going to be one more thing to haunt her. You could keep watch this time.

Sevika was elsewhere getting her arm fixed once again, and keeping all of the intelligence open for signs of what had been happening in Piltover. She’d headed back to The Drop. Running Zaun directly or alone had never been something you wanted. Especially now, with the love of your life still in danger of being lost forever, and your child being the cause on top of whatever had been done to her-

There came another string of rambles, ranging from terror to agony to anger. Occasionally you would hear The Doctor muttering. You could feel the wave of emotions settle between your shoulders, winding up the muscles like snakes tensing to bite. You needed a distraction.

Threats were going to be coming from all sides. Jinx had officially crossed the carefully toed line of impertinent interference that Silco had perfected. You didn’t know what the aftermath of the missile had been, and it didn’t take a genius to guess. A part of you didn’t care. Fuck the Topsiders for needing to be brought to the battlefield. Still, you couldn’t ignore the stiffness setting in your arms and neck, your hands clenched into fists as tears began to resurface.

Another moan of pain, this one low and mournful… your name again. You covered your ears and tried to fight the urge to bust through the door.

Fuck it. You’d rather be sedated then hear one more second of this without being able to help. Hands flew to the door handle of their own accord, but were met with the empty air as the door opened first.

Jinx’s pink eyes bore into your own, flat, “Doc say you can come in. Apparently he’s though the worst. Dad’ll- be okay.” She sounded completely drained.

You gathered Jinx in a tight hug, wanting to offer any sort of comfort you could, “He’s going to understand. We’ve been so worried about you, Blue.”

“I killed him.” She mumbled into your shoulder, “I almost-”

“But you didn’t,” you pulled back to look in her eyes, your hands pushing her bangs off of her forehead to finally get a good look. She was so pale now, worse than before, almost spectral. Her freckles and dark makeup only making her appear more sickly, she was smeared with dirt and blood and crusted tears. Her eyes weren’t glowing anymore, but their pale blue had been consumed by the eery magenta of Shimmer. “He knows how much you’re struggling. He isn’t dead. It was an accident. He knows that.”

Jinx didn’t look convinced, only lifting your arms off of her and pushing past into the fissures beyond, “I just need to be alone.“ She turned before she crossed behind the faint lantern glow, “You know where to find me,” and then she was gone.

You waited, letting the compulsion to run after her and comfort her dissolve for a later time. If anything would be able to get through to Jinx it would be Silco himself. In order for him to get the chance, however, you needed to make sure Silco would stay alive. Jinx was smart, and knew when and how to lay low. She would be alright for a few hours. With a deep breath and you headed into the attached cavern.

“Doctor, Is he-“ your gaze mimed fixated on the disheveled and miserable man strapped to the gurney. At the sound of your voice Silco’s eyes landed on you, relief washing over his expression the moment he processed what he was seeing. “Thank Jannah, Sil,” you sighed, stepping and crossing the space. Your hand fell into his, fitting perfectly into his palm, warm and alive and responsive. With a smile you took your free hand and pushed the strands of charcoal and ash hair out of his face, “Hey there, handsome.” You beamed.

The once bright orange iris, now matching his daughter’s pink hue, was scanning along your features, relief washing over the face you had come to love more than you had ever thought possible. His pale blue eye was just as intently looking at you, but his eyelid hung heavy with exhaustion, “What’s a creature like you,” his voice was strained and low, rumbling out of his chest more than his throat, “doing in a place like this?”

Your mind played the first time he had said that to you as you grinned, “That line is still too cheesy to work.”

“Better than the look you gave me when I said it then.” He hummed as your hand moved from his hair to brush his cheek, “Did I ever tell you it was Jinx’s idea?”

“To try and hit on me after saving my life or?” You laughed lightly.

“To tell you,” he wheezed for a second as a flare of purple raced up his skin and into his damaged iris, “ah, how pretty you looked.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and the pain seemed to become just a little less.

“So you settled on calling me a creature?” You scoffed teasingly.

“Is now the time for such, frivolous things?” The Doctor’s tone was annoyed as he cut in. He started undoing the straps holding Silco down, and he motioned for you to help him.

You looked at the scientist with one brow raised as Silco sighed, “I’ve nearly died today. It makes a man think about things… differently,” his gaze didn’t move from your face, like he was studying it for the first time. You were used to his staring habit, but this felt different. Maybe it was the drugs, “so beautiful,” he muttered so low, he probably hadn’t even noticed he’d said it.

“Shut up, old man,” you smiled, “Save your breath.”

The Doctor moved to your side of the table, batting you away as he began to unstrap his arm and head. Which was only fair since you hadn’t even started to undo the buckle. Your hand slipped away from Silco’s and you immediately missed the feeling. The anxiety that boiled in your stomach was vicious and your skin seemed to itch with the need to continue to make sure Silco was truly alive and real, on the mend and going to survive. Once the kingpin was free, the Doctor took his pulse, then gently helped him rise to a sitting position. His face contorted with the pain but eased as he breathed through it. At last, Doc looked towards you and nodded, giving his permission, you could fully take in your paramour.

Silco’s left arm was protectively hugged around his bandage wrapped torso, his smoldering eye still pulsing pink as was it’s seafoam counterpart. His hair was haphazard and his makeup smeared away long ago, the ashen skin of his scar visible in large smudges. You wrapped your arms around him as gently as you could manage, still causing him to hiss ever so slightly. His heartbeat thumped away under your ear, protected in his rib cage, fast and a little irregular. His smell was tainted with blood and sweat but it was still him. His free arm pulled you closer, his nose resting on top of your head. Together you breathed. Just for a moment that to you, felt like the exact eternity you needed to find your voice.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

He chuckled deep in his chest, “I promise to try and not make it a habit, my lovely.”

You only burrowed further into his arms in reply. Your home was here. Safely by Silco’s side, in his arms, breathing and basking in the gift of having more time. Just as the tension had begun to ease from your shoulders Silco spoke again, “Where is Jinx? Is she alright?”

You met his gaze, “She’s… upset. She didn’t mean to kill you. I think she’s headed back to her lab. I wanted to go with her but…”

“But you needed to make sure I would be alright first.” He gently finished and ran a hand through your hair, “Thank you for saving me. Now we’re officially even.” He let his fingertips stroke your cheek, “We need to get to Jinx. I need to tell her I forgive her.”

“You won’t be able to walk on your own yet, old friend.” The Doctor spoke up again from his desk across the room, apparently he had returned to his more important projects, “Your body is still processing the serum. You don’t have your daughter’s vitality.”

Silco frowned over at the old scientist, “I think I can manage. And anyways,” he looked down at you, “I won’t be alone.”

You nodded, and stepped out of his embrace to help him down and onto his feet. As he touched the stone floor however, his legs seemed to buckle and he fell onto you heavily with a grunt of pain. You caught him and let him get his grip on the edge of the gurney. His teeth grinding as he pulled himself upwards, “Sil? Are you-?”

“It’s fine.” The ever stubborn Eye of Zaun commanded. The Doctor and you shared a quick look.

You knew he was lying but he had more pressing concerns than his own comfort at the moment, “Can you?” he gestured vaguely around himself. Asking for help was still not something he was completely comfortable with, but you knew what he meant.

You shifted around him, so one of your arms was around his midsection, the other was holding his hand as his own arm swept over your shoulders. Jinx’s Lab and The Last Drop were a bit of a walk away. The Doctor, grumbling all the while, retrieved a cane from some depths of his caverns and gave you what doses Silco might need if he took a sudden turn. With measured steps you began to lead Silco to the door. Just before you crossed the threshold, Silco tugged and stopped, “Thank you, Doctor. My family owes you a great debt.”

A stiff and matter of fact “I know.” was the only reply he received.

Silco pressed a kiss to your temple and together you set off.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Baking with Bill Cipher head canons or prompt please? Only if you want! Have a good night/day!

Baking with bill sounds like a show I’d watch ngl-

Anyway! You’d think that Baking would bore Bill and hope that the little triangle dream demon would leave you alone to do something so boring and human.

Nope! The little shit puts on a frilly little apron (something so evil shouldn’t look so fucking cute) and floats over to you to look over at the cook book you had splayed out across the counter.

You: can I help you?

Bill: I’m baking with you! Seeing as how destroying everything in known existence and torturing people to the brink of insanity and back is wrong according to you humans. Anyway we don’t need this *throws book out the window*

You: I fucking needed that you triangular twat!

Bill: improvisation is a thing babe, consider this your lesson on it.

Needless to say baking with bill is a disaster just waiting to happen because no actual baking gets done because Bill is too entertained by changing everything you held into something weird or disturbing.

Bowl? Nope massive tarantula

Spoon? Nope two headed snake with the most poisonous venom known to man.

The eggs hatch into fire breathing chickens with dragon legs and wings.

The batter becomes a goo like monster who attracts its pray with its sweet smell. Amongst many other things.

To bill it was hilarious but to you it was nothing short of annoying as all you wanted to do was bake chocolate chip cookies as a rewards for dealing with bill and his entirety.

You: are you finished? *you said as you shut the door behind the massive tarantula and locking it after sweeping it out with a broom*

Bill: why the sour-dough face cupcake. Hehe sourdough.

You: can you let me actually bake something without using your powers to interfere!?

Bill: boo sounds boring.

You: you’ll get the first taste.

Bill: deal!

So bill left you to actually do some baking for once but his uncharacteristic silence made you think he was about to do something and you were right, but it wasn’t until after the cookies came out did you realise what he had done the moment bill insists that you taste the cookies first instead.

You: you put maggots or worms or even black bugs in the cookies didn’t you? *unimpressed*

Bill: noooooo. *you raise a brow at him* Okay yes I did. *he kicks the air in defeat* you’re not fun.

Needless to say you start baking when Bill is away so that you can enjoy what you made but sometimes would come home to him in the frilly apron making something you were sure wouldn’t sit right with you after. You hope it wasn’t rat poison or anything like that but you highly doubt it cuz it was Bill you were talking about.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter VI : The End of the Beginning.

Summary: Things begin to quickly escalate.

WARNINGS: canon typical incest, angst, grief, mentions of child loss, aegon is a dick.

A/N: divider creds to @cafekitsune

<- prev // masterlist // next ->

Everything was moving way too quick for your liking. You thought your marriage pact to Aemond would prevent the war, yet it seems like it's inevitable. You felt nothing but despair watching Aegon walk through the crowd of people, for his coronation.

You knew what was next, Rhaenys would burst through the doors and leave right after threatening them, so you wait anxiously, standing next to Aemond.

But nothing happens.

Rhaenys didn't appear and the coronation went smoothly.

What was happening?

You were escorted back to the castle with guards around you till you reached your room, knowing that the blacks would try to come get you any moment. The greens were on guard.

A few days passed since then, Rhaenys’ absence shocked you the most. You had written a letter to your mother, informing your mother of the happenings.

You paced around your chamber restlessly, anxious about how the story is developing, it seems that your interference made everything worse.

Perhaps it was always meant to be this way, for everyone to be doomed. You thought of Luke, Aemond, Helaena, and all the lives that were taken away because of this war.

You never really acknowledged how real everything was until you felt the taste of potential calamity. Your head snaps to the side when the doors burst open, the guards rushing in and grabbing you.

“W—What are you doing?!” You yell, trying to fight the guards but they say nothing, dragging you out of your chambers by force and out into the hallway.

You are brought down to where the dungeons are, below the castle before being thrown into one as the guards lock the door. You look at Ser Cole who was one of the people that guard you down here. He looked at you with a mockery of pity.

“It was the King's orders.” He speaks, noticing the need for closure in your eyes. Your eyes widened at the truth, lips trembling as you felt useless. Unable to change anything, if in fact everything is more shit.

“What about Aemond? I need to speak to him right now!” You cry out, and Ser Cole shakes his head, “He had called off the betrothal with you.” Those words felt a stab to your heart.

He called it off? No it definitely couldn't be.

Aemond wouldn't do that without consulting you first.

But deep down, you feared that it would be the truth, cause the body you're in believes that to be the case. He was a man stuck to his duty after all.

“Your betrothal to Y/N should be annulled immediately.” Aegon's voice booms through the small council as he sits there on the chair, somehow making coherent decisions. Aemond had just walked in then, immediately being met with a command.

“Why?” Aemond asks in disbelief, his eyebrows furrowed. “I can not, she is— I do not wish to.” Aemond affirms his decision standing tall against at the end of the table, seeming as though he was the king, making decisions.

Aegon scoffed, “You dare defy the king? But I will excuse you, for you are my brother. I'm aware that cunt must've felt good. But it isn't beneficial for the war.” Aegon spews comically, expecting everyone to laugh with him but no one does. Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat as she watches the interaction between her sons.

Aemond grits his teeth, his anger oozing off him, suffocating everyone in the room. He clenches his fists, nails digging into his palm as he tries to not move impulsively.

“Aegon, is right.” Alicent interferes, not making eye contact with Aemond. “Marrying her will not do any good. We must use this to gain allies. Besides, who knows what Rhaenyra might do. Now that her child is with us.” She simply states, avoiding the gaze of Aemond.

His eyes darted around the room, everybody was silent.

His mind ran wild, as he stood there still, thinking of the possibilities, thinking about everything.

He swallowed a tight lump in his throat, and the next words that left his mouth, betrayed both himself and you.

“I understand.”

————————————————————————

Rhaenyra's sobs fill the room as she clutches her head, her council looking upon her. “I can't lose another child. I'm afraid I cannot bear it.” She quivers, her body still traumatized from losing her unborn child.

She refers to you. “My baby, I can not. lose. her. again.” her mind fills with the memories of you being asleep for many years, the nights she's spent by your side hoping you'd wake up.

“I am not a good mother, am I? Daemon. I left my child in the viper's nest, even though you were against it.” Rhaenyra stared at Daemon, her mind in shambles. He gazed in silence at her. She was going mad. She couldn't keep calm.

“Those traitors! How could they? Has there been any other letter from her?” She asks as soon as a guard walks in, the one who she planted as a spy.

“The princess has been thrown into the dungeons,” those words were enough to send Rhaenyra spiralling out of control, as she yelled at everyone to take immediate action. She will burn down the city if she needs to.

“And it seems that they have called off the betrothal.” He finishes and Daemon scoffs. “Those cunts.” Daemon mutters underneath his breath.

“We must wait.” Jacaerys speaks up, unable to see his mother spiral like this. “Mother, I am aware that you are worried about our sister, but we need to deal with this sensitively.” He tries to be the voice of reason for her. Luke joins in, holding his mother by her hand and she stares at the both of them before calming down.

Rhaenyra's eyes darken as the last of her tears fell down her cheek. Her mind reeling up a plan, before she toughens up and focuses on the matter before her.

————————————————————————

Aemond left the keep on his horse, going to the forest where Vhagar was sleeping soundly. He goes near her, grazing her sides and she wakes up, feeling her rider near her.

He climbs on top of her, knowing the direction he was meant to go. And so he does, flying off in the direction.

The duty felt heavy on his shoulders, but the betrayal even worse, you must be so confused on what is going on. After the betrothal with the baratheon, he will fly back to you and explain everything.

Yes, it is what he will do.

You probably felt lonely, all alone in your chamber, he should've probably told more guards to protect you before he left but he shakes his head, hoping that you'd be alright.

Ironic how far he was from the truth. He had no idea that you were currently suffering in the dungeons.

The gut feeling was malicious, warning him that he is doing something wrong, but he tried shaking it off. It wouldn't budge. It got so worse to the point he felt nauseous.

He thinks for a minute.

His eye hardens as he takes deep breaths, the weight of betrayal suddenly lifting off, and the pressure of duty fade into nothingness as he commands Vhagar to fly the other direction, spinning her around.

To dragonstone it is.

@gabriella-aesthetic @delaynew @idonotknowenglish @dixie-elocin @intheheartoftheking @dracaryxzs @ladyoffandoms @zoleea-exultant @saturnssrings @uniquecutie-puffs @aleemendoza2425-blog @marvelita85 @feelingfaye @sylvievil @cypherpt5fttaehyung @ttysmfwna @void21 @technicallystrangereview @feyresqueen @evergreen9083 @mirandasidefics @org12 @blorbo-brainrot @thisishwrworld @shadowqueen09 @watermel0nsugarhigh @cottoncandyclouds-stuff @madislayyy @the-hufflebird-girl @hiatuswhore @whompwhompsthings @debesteimanetje

[dubiousanon]

More fic plots please 🥺

Title: Well, Duh (Shikamaru x Naruto)

Summary:

Shikamaru's crush on Naruto isn't anything new. It's a benign part of his life at this point—a background detail that, though constant, remains unchanging. It's never going to go anywhere. Or at least, that's what he thinks until Ino asks Naruto who his ideal type is and Shikamaru is the first person he turns to.

Notes:

-Shikamaru is down bad, because I'm incapable of making him normal, but he's kind of resigned too. He figures he and Naruto are never gonna happen. Naruto has Hinata at his back and Sasuke at his front, Shikamaru has clan duties— it was just never in the cards.

-That all changes when Ino asks Naruto what his ideal type is. Completely offhandedly and jokingly. She's just kinda prodding at him for teasing giggles.

-Instead of squinting confusedly and listing off a few broad adjectives like "pretty" or "funny" or "tall", he stares at her like she's an idiot before jerking his thumb at Shikamaru as if that should tell her everything she needs to know.

-Ino's jaw is on the floor. Shikamaru is checking over his shoulder to make sure Hinata isn't standing there like a ghost. Ino is like "Shikamaru? Shikamaru is your type?"

-Naruto is like "Uh, duh. Why're you acting surprised?"

-Naruto, who totally has a thing for Shikamaru, figured Shikamaru knew because Shikamaru knows everything. He made the leap that "Well if he knows, since he clearly does, he must be fine with it if he's still hanging out with me. He just doesn't want to make things awkward by bringing it up."

-Like no bitch. He's smart, not psychic.

-Shikamaru relentlessly pursues him going forward, with varying degrees of success. They get there eventually.

Title: The Spiral (Obito x Naruto)

Summary:

After accidentally traveling back in time, Naruto decides the safest course of action is to pose as his own father's non-shinobi brother until he can find a way back home. He absolutely can't interfere with the timeline. Sakura would totally kill him if he did. That being said, if Obito dies anyway... Bringing him to his timeline is probably the best course of action, right?

Notes:

-Fifteen year old Naruto trips, face plants on a pile of Jiraiya's seals, and poof. Suddenly he's in the past with absolutely no idea what the hell is going on.

-This is an AU where Jiraiya is more forthcoming with Naruto's origins. Naruto is more competent, particularly in the seal area, and can stand his own a bit better than he can in canon. He knows who his parents was and has some base knowledge about their history, including about his dad's genin team and their fate.

-Pretending he's not a shinobi hurts. It's one of the hardest things he's ever done. It only gets worse when Minato insists on bringing him to training, not wanting him to be alone for long periods of time, stuck inside for fear he'll interfere with something else if he goes out alone.

-He and Obito get on like a house on fire, but it's not long before Obito has that whole Uchiha obsession thing start to hit. He and Naruto are two sides of the same coin and he can't get enough. He wants to get closer, he wants to learn more, he wants everything he can get.

-Naruto knows Obito dies and lets himself get closer to him because of it. But soon feelings form and yeah, you know where this is going. They start to have a sappy teenage romance.

-Naruto eventually can't stand the thought of Obito dying and admits the truth to him as the kanabi bridge mission approaches.

-Obito lives because of it. At the same time, Naruto finds a way home. To preserve the timeline, he gives Kakashi an eye, salutes, and follows Naruto back to his time without a second of hesitation.

-Older Obito is not amused. Younger Obito is even less amused. Chaos ensues.

Title: Canine Qualities (Kakashi x Naruto)

Summary:

As soon as Naruto forms an alliance with Kurama, it's like a dozen switches get flipped in his head. Pulling off the seal unleashes a whole new slew of amplified instincts he doesn't know how to deal with. Luckily for him, he's got a teacher who has experience with this kind of thing. A teacher who smells really, really good. Like really good. Like— on second thought, maybe Naruto can figure this one out without help.

Notes:

-Naruto gets some sick new animal instincts, which is cool and all, but those instincts are telling him to jump Kakashi's bones. To be blunt.

-Kakashi has always been attractive but now it's like Naruto has noticed. He's strong, he smells great, he looks even better. Naruto goes to him for advice on how to manage his new territorial instincts and finds himself doing the Debby Ryan hair tuck instead.

-Yeah, that one.

-Kakashi is also noticing new and enticing smells and bro is resisting the forces of evil. He will not. He refuses. This won't happen to him. He can't sink this low.

-(spoiler: He will totally, he will accept, it will happen, and he will sink that low)

-Naruto is kind of too enthusiastic to resist. He doesn't see a problem here. Kakashi smells great. It's obvious he thinks Naruto smells great too. Obviously he's gonna throw himself at his.

-Kakashi eventually can't resist the xxx many pounds of hot blonde throwing himself at him and folds like a napkin in the rain.

-Doesn't help that Naruto basically takes one look at him and happily declares that they should "make out, or maybe get married or something!"

[liketwoswansinbalance]

What would Rhian do if Rafal started having a panic attack and just could not calm down?

The scenario seems unlikely, given Rafal's relatively unflappable, impassive temperament and how he doesn't seem to exhibit PTSD symptoms, but this scenario is also very interesting, and I would really like to know what could possibly trigger a panic attack of that intensity in him. It'd probably have to be something unimaginably horrible? (Literally, I don't have a good answer at the moment for possible hair-raising stimuli to him, as much as we joke about Rafal vs. pirates.)

If he did have a panic attack, I feel like it would be most in character of him to dissociate/undergo depersonalization and feel like a third party observer to his life or a singular event, whether it's unfolding or oncoming. And he would only stand still with bated breath in abject dread at some kind of figurative tidal wave he's about to be bombarded with.

It would probably be a silent panic attack, not an outburst or a weepy/breathy one—and he might have the blue-screen-of-death type of feeling/expression, during which nothing new on the outside is being registered and processed because he's gone numb and detached. Like, his eyes would be open, and he'd look, but he wouldn't see or comprehend. He may as well have been gazing at the backs of his lids, or at a blur, or feel dark/reddish pulsing.

Ok, brace yourselves—

This is the worst-case scenario in relation to this fascinating ask:

Rafal falls into a fugue state and wanders away from home (and Rhian doesn't stop him or think to stop him because Rafal's left without any prior notice before. He has a history of it. And, he literally just disappears and reappears at will, seemingly well mentally, like it's a magic trick. So, whatever Rafal does, wherever he goes, if action is needed at all, it must be some practice of self-regulation, given his unwillingness to rely on anyone else. And most unsettling of all: again, no one would be able to distinguish the panic attack from every other time Rafal's casually left.)

And while I'm sure this isn't canon, we could make the leap that he could have been hurt enough by Rhian's jab at his pride at the start of Rise that there is, I suppose, a non-zero chance of this having happened when he first struck out on his own (during the time gap, pre-meeting Hook).

Actually, a lot of Rafal's behaviors align with schizoid personality disorder, antisocial personality disorder, autism, paranoid personality disorder, anhedonia, and obsessive compulsive personality disorder—I don't necessarily think he's affected by any one of these conditions alone. Any kind of comorbidity is possible. And yet, oddly enough, I can't see PTSD as likely because: either his trauma is invisible or he's more likely to be the one inflicting trauma on others than ever experiencing it or irrational fears himself.

Anyway, as for my answer—first, Rhian would probably try to ground Rafal in the world and keep Rafal responsive.

In the case of Rhian not knowing how to deal with panic attacks, perhaps, he could try to shake/slap some sense into Rafal.

If both of these tactics were to fail, the "kindest" solution would probably be to sedate or safely render Rafal unconscious with magic before his feelings escalated any further or he lost consciousness due to hyperventilation. So, if Rhian could keep a clear head while all this were going on, I suspect that's what he would do.

And let's face it: This is entirely conditional—it would only be so if Rhian were even there, as, the possibility of Rafal just up and leaving, (and not accepting any help, if anyone even notices anything off about him) is still firmly on the table.

However, Rhian's anxious tendencies could interfere with taking an appropriate or any course of action for that matter. He could freeze up at the sight of Rafal in this state as it could very well be a novel occurrence. And, if he didn't know what to do, his mind could go blank out of stress, fear, and/or shock. At best though, he could get Rafal medical assistance/psychological attention, whichever services exist in the Woods.

In fact, I think Rhian would try to "fix" the feeling/reaction itself, only what's being presented to him, that's observable, not the situation or root cause of Rafal's panic attack. And, ordinary words/gestures of reassurance would not be enough, if he can't be calmed.

There's even a chance Rhian could be afraid of touching or attempting to hug Rafal in a state like that, due to a fear of disturbing Rafal(?), even if he could hold the instinct to do so.

I'm not sure it would ever cross Rhian's mind to deal with Rafal's panic from the outside, as in, directly removing the distressing stimuli or dealing head-on with some source of trauma or approximation of trauma, if the stimulus is adjacent to but not the exact thing which would set off Rafal's response, or "under-response," knowing him.

There's also an off-chance that certain behaviors of Rhian's are triggers to Rafal, but that neither of them know it. The opposite is also probably true, considering Rhian was set off, in a way, at the end of Fall by the weighty/selfish but relatively innocuous offer Rafal extended to him.

Thus, I think there's a definite, non-zero chance they've each traumatized the other and cannot recognize it because they're so entrenched in their relationship and cannot view it objectively.

Lastly, keep in mind that I am not an expert or an actual psychologist. I have only tried to not misinform. I invite you to correct me if anything is wrong.

Thoughts or reactions, anyone?! I'm not sure whether my answer is predictable or provocative.

[vicmillen]

Where's the Justice League?

So I been thinking about an AU with a merged setting. You know, where DP happened inside of DC multiverse.

Specifically, I've been thinking about the JL and the other capes, what's Danny's opinion on them and what would keep them out from the Amity clusterfuck.

Here's some thoughts:

At first it just didn't cross the trio's minds that they could or should call the JL.

Sure there's a literal portal to the afterlife in Fenton's basement, and sure there's dangerous beings coming out of it that endangered people's lives. But hey they're handling it! The whole thing is kinda sort of their fault anyways, and the three of them are gonna try their best to hide it and deal with it on their own.

They are teenagers after all.

Then comes the GIW, and Vald. Both of them makes a solid attempt at locking up the ghosty news within Amity. For different purposes, sure, but the results marks the foundation of a solid media blackout.

Fine by the trio, actually, they really don't need more attention being put on Phantom. The less people knows about Phantom, the safer Danny is. Since he's still hiding from his parents and they really don't want to find out if those threats are real or not.

As the danger level ratchets higher and higher though, it's inevitable that the JL would cross their minds. They are teenagers, after all. This world threatening bullshit is starting to get out of their depths, and they do know it. They may make questionable decisions sometimes but they're not complete morons.

Except, they also knows how dangerous it could get if the supers got involved. For all they are teenagers struggling with highschool, they do know what they're doing, mostly. Team Phantom knows how their enemies function, what powers are to be expected, and what equipments is needed to counter those. They knows what to look out for, and what to do when stuff goes wrong. Most of the time anyways.

They don't have the same confidence in the Justice League.

Which sounds like a ridiculous thing to say, but hey. It's a matter of specialization, not absolute power. Besides, with the power and influence the JL have, they really can't risk any of them getting overshadowed.

They've all seen the aftermath of a mind controlled superman.

There is unfortunately, also the uncertainty of if the JL would even be on their side. Sure, the JL sounds reasonable and accepting enough to see through the GIW's bullshit, but that's just another thing that they can't afford to lose the gamble. The Fenton parents and the GIW is already hot on their heels, they can't afford the Justice League hunting Phantom for sports too.

All in all, it took a depressingly short amount of time for Team Phantom to start actively keeping themselves under JL's radar. The firewall around all things Amity gets reinforced, several times, and even the other locals learned to keep the ghosts to themselves.

What happens in Amity, stays in Amity.

So for almost three years Team Phantom deals with their own problems. Without outside help, but also without outside interference.

P.S.

For the sake of this setting, JLD has formed but isn't public knowledge yet, at least not until after the DP related plot concluded. So Team Phantom wouldn't have known to ask for them at that point. Also the whole timeline is completely made up and stretched out as I see fit. Canon is but the sandbox we play in, and it's mashups anyway so.

There are more of this au that I'm contemplating. We'll see if this gets a part two. Maybe about what caused team Phantom to leave Amity.

[chromatic-lamina]

I know that fandom often clowns on this statement

from Law (about needing to take down monsters to learn about history), taking it as proof that he's somehow not fighting for freedom or that

freedom of expression is not something important that has been sanctified ratified in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights:

Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers. (Article 19)

But that it is instead some nerdish pastime that no other character in One Piece or the real world is invested in (WG or otherwise) for obvious reasons of power, politics and freedom/repression.

But there are governments and organisations that regularly suppress this kind of expression (in One Piece and the real world--no surprise):

There are governments and organisations that fear the pursuit of knowledge:

Partial SBS: Volume 86: Pedro led the Nox expedition party who were chased by the government for searching for poneglyphs, thus they became the Nox Pirates. That's a story from about 15 years ago.

And there are governments and organisations that penalise people by taking their lives

for seeking out knowledge. 👆👇

From Clover,

to Nico Olvia,

to Rayleigh,

to

(Egghead Arc spoilers under the cut)

to Pedro,

to the giants (👇 read right to left),

to Vegapunk

the power and desire to learn about history is emphasised and

honoured,

(from chapter 396 👆)

(from chapter 1066 👆)

and also acknowledged as a very dangerous undertaking.

And even Cora talks to Law about

the meaning behind the Will of D. not being lost, BUT "living on in the dark shadows of history around the world" (it's not easily seen either).

Like, knowing history and access to history/knowledge is one of the main themes of the manga. And Big Mom is a monster. And the World Government is a repressive monolith. And this guy (guy?) 👇:

nuking places and people for not toeing the line, or for knowing too much; riddled with antipathy towards holders of the Will of D. and, with Artur's (Library of Ohara) claim (among others) that the ancient immense kingdom was formed by descendants of the D. clan (which is canon)—

—then wouldn't you too be curious and more than a little pissed off that your curiosity could be the catalyst for persecution and genocide?

That searching for identity, roots...your reason for being, is not allowed? (Sound familiar?)

Like, those scholarly waters are nothing if not shark-infested.

Ultimately the pen (Robin's ability to read the poneglyphs, the scholars' meticulous research) probably will be mightier than the sword, and although bureaucracy can entrap, knowing how to read between the lines, or even to read them, can loosen the ties that bind, and help ensure they are not unfairly cast.

Keep fighting to study history, Law. I too want to know about the Will of D.

[fourmoony]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter One.

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: Language, mentions of broken bones, blood, physical violence.

I can't believe it's finally here. Enjoy, lovelies :)

James Potter

There’s five minutes left in the final period. Gryffindor are down by one and James refuses to start the season on a loss. He’d settle for a draw. But he will not allow his team to lose to Slytherin. Call him superstitious but losing the first game of the season is a grey cloud of doom that will follow them all year long and there’s nothing James Potter wants more than to bring Gryffindor to their fourth frozen four win in a row. Especially in his first year as captain. So, call him hell bent. James prefers motivated, competitive.

They’re due a line change. Sirius is losing steam and Remus has been favouring his left skate a little too much for James’ liking. Five seconds and the juniors will switch them out. But James has the puck, is trying to keep Mulciber as far away from his coat tails as possible, but Sirius can’t keep up. His eyes are on Remus, further up the ice, chasing Snape who’s making a break directly for James.

James bangs his stick against the ice, calls Sirius’ name. But it’s too late. Mulciber’s stick collides with the side of his skate at the same time Remus and Snape crash into him from the front. It’s an illegal play and the Slytherin’s know it. But it doesn’t stop the yell Snape lets out the minute he’s back on the ice, demanding the ref penalise Remus for shoving him into James. Sirius is there in a second, gloves dropped to the ice and his fingers curled around Snape’s cage. “That was illegal, and you know it, Snivellus.” Sirius grits out, pushing the Slytherin player back by his head.

Snape tumbles, the ref watches closely. James’ eyes fly to the board. They’re about to line change, the buzzer has paused, but if Sirius doesn’t play this right, he’ll still be in the sin bin by the time the buzzer goes. They need him for that final minute. “Pads, relax.” James warns his best friend.

Sirius Black is notorious for being The Loose Canon of the NCAA. It’s a strength and a weakness, James supposes. A lot of the lesser teams in the league give him a wide berth when playing Gryffindor. Between Sirius, Remus, and James, they have their routine for winning down-pat. But with Slytherin, it’s always a coin toss. They know how to rile Sirius, have him bench riding for the majority of the game. It’s what they’re doing now. James realises he might’ve been the one to get floored by Snape and Mulciber, but that attack was aimed specifically at Sirius.

Sirius who was supposed to be protecting James. Sirius who was too busy looking at Remus.

“Should’ve been keeping a better eye on your captain, Black.” Mulciber antagonises. His smirk is knowing, goading. James sighs and accepts his fate a mere second before Sirius is on Mulciber, helmet skittering across the ice.

There’s an evil crack from Mulciber’s nose. Blood seeping over the white ice like some sort of sick omen for the rest of the season. James looks around him, watches as the rest of the Slytherin’s approach, locks eyes with Remus. There’s an understanding there. They’re fucked. Royally. So, they might as well give Sirius a hand. James screws his eyes shut, gives himself a single second to prepare for the reaming Coach Moody is going to give him, then grabs Severus Snape, Slytherin captain, by the neckline of his jersey and punches him so hard he crumples to the ice like an empty water bottle.

The ref blows the whistle repeatedly, the team members on each bench cheer and bang their sticks against the boards. The crowd roars. And while James registers this is definitely not how he wanted the season to begin – fighting off Slytherin’s because of Sirius Black’s short fuse temper – he’s still so glad to be fucking back.

Alistor Moody isn’t a pleasant man to look at. He’s burly, with thin strands of straw-coloured hair and a glass eye that seems to swivel of its own accord. As though it’s come loose. The rumour is that the captain of his high school’s rival hockey team jabbed his stick into Moody’s eye. He lost his scholarship, his career, and he’s been living up to his name’s sake ever since. The man is moody. An old grump who James looks up to because his experience and no-excuses-attitude have helped James’ team win three Frozen Four trophies. So, the idea of letting him down sits heavy on his chest. Regardless of his loyalty to Sirius, he regrets punching Snape in the face.

If only because his coach hasn’t stopped screaming for twenty straight minutes and James really needs to get to his Econ class. Moody hadn’t said anything after the game. Had been unnervingly quiet and the anxiety of such a reaction from him has sat heavy in James’ chest ever since. He’d known this was coming. But he wishes he’d had more time to prepare. Or, at the very least, warn Professor Flitwick that he’d be late.

Sirius is nonplussed. Has been since the fight. It should irk James. Should annoy him that they’re seniors and Sirius is still pulling the same shit he’s been pulling since they were in little leagues. But he cuts him the slack he needs. Always has. Always will. Sirius isn’t as simple as most people think he is. He comes from a shitty home with even shittier parents and a shitty fucking past. So, he’s quick to anger? James allows it because it’s how Sirius copes. But he’s really over the reaming it’s landed him from Moody.

“I’m serious, this shit ends now.” Moody points a finger at them. Sirius sniggers into his fist. A tale as old as time, that he’d laugh at such a sentence. Their coach chooses to ignore it, carries on with a defeated sigh. “Dumbledore wanted you benched for the season. I talked him down to community service.”

“That’s bullshit.” Sirius’ voice sounds bored, and James knows he’s already coming up with a million ways to avoid doing such a thing.

“No, Black. What’s bullshit is that you’re still pulling this shit as a fucking senior. You’re meant to be setting an example to the freshmen! And you’re starting fights for no goddamn reason.” Moody slams a fat hand down on the desk and James flinches.

Community service of any kind is a hockey player’s worst nightmare. Especially at their level. They spend all their lives training, have barely any social life, and the time that they are allocated to actually have a life, now belongs to whatever sad sack community outreach programme needs their help. It’s bullshit, Sirius is right. But James doesn’t feel in any sort of position to argue with Moody, not when there’s the threat of a suspension on the line.

“The snakes started it! Mulciber could’ve broke James’ leg with that swipe.”

Sirius has always been someone to argue with authority. James admires his passion, but it’s clear they’re not getting out of this. Moody confirms his thoughts with a plain, “Regardless. You threw the first punch in an illegal fight. Started an all-out brawl. Your community service leaders will complete a sign in sheet each week. You miss a session; you’re benched at that week’s game.”

James allows himself to let out a long, suffering sigh. He’d started his senior year determined to actually put effort into his degree, as well as his captaincy. Now, he’s unsure how he’s going to balance everything. Fucking Sirius. “What’s the damage, then?” He asks.

The grin Alistor Moody gives Sirius and James is nothing short of pure evil. He’s cynical. James’ stomach sinks. “Black, you’re headed to the library. There’s a student writing a thesis paper, needs help citing books and the likes. You’ll help with that on Tuesday afternoons and Thursday evenings.”

Sirius slumps in his seat, unimpressed. “Fun.”

“Potter, you’re co-coaching mini-skate. Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings.” There’s something in Moody’s voice. Like he already knows what James’ reaction is going to be, that he feels somewhat guilty about it.

The room spins, James feels like he’s going to throw up. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his heart races. Even Sirius sits up in his seat, eyes wide.

“Moody you can’t make him do that. Let us switch.” Sirius begs as he leans forward.

The coach winces. “I tried. Dumbledore chose them specifically for each of you. I’m sorry.”

James’ mouth is too dry to talk. Not that he can think of any words to say, anyway. All he can think of is you. Your face when you find out who your new co-coach is. The way your heart will probably plummet like his did. He feels nauseous, too warm, too cold, he’s not sure. Last he saw you, you were crying in the passenger seat of his car, telling him how much you hated him. How you never wanted to see him again. He can’t say he blames you. The thing about James is that he’s an idiot. He doesn’t think things through. Lives in the moment, acts before he thinks because it’s what his hockey obsessed brain is trained to do. He ruined your trust and broke your heart because he’s an idiot. And now you’re being forced to co-coach with him.

He stands abruptly, excuses himself into the hallway outside Moody’s office. Let’s the cool wall press against his too warm back, slams his head against the concrete. Sirius closes the door behind him, toe tapping anxiously against the linoleum. “Good?” He asks.

“Next time you start a fight, Sirius, remember this moment. Remember how uncomfortable this is going to make her. Remember that I can’t not be your back up. You’re my best friend and I’ll always have your back, no questions asked. But this? Please don’t put me in this position again.” James tells Sirius.

Then, he turns and walks away. Down the hall, out of the sports administration building and towards his truck. All the while thinking about how much of a fucking idiot he is.

Sirius Black

Remus is running late. Not that Sirius minds, he’s grateful for the time alone. The time to think, to get his head straight. To digest James’ words. His best friend, his captain. He let him down epically and he regrets it. He wishes he hadn’t, but it’s not like he can help it. There’s something wrong with him. With the way his brain is wired. It’s the in the blood that runs through his veins, that dark and twisted Black temper. It’s a grey cloud over him, the itch in his bones. It never falters, never dulls. He’s so angry all of the time, always on edge.

He wishes he weren’t. He’s trying not to be so much of a fucking mess. It’s hard. To shake that darkness when it’s surrounded him so wholly for a lot of his life. He wants to be better, to do better. But there was something in Mulciber’s words at the game. An insinuation that made Sirius’ skin burn. He doesn’t want to dissect it yet. Maybe he’s not ready to. But he does know that if he doesn’t get his act together, he’s going to go from the NCAA’s biggest loose cannon to the NHL’s biggest loose cannon, and the Cannon’s will kick him faster than he can skate a lap. The irony isn’t lost on him, with that one.

Sirius catches sight of Remus weaving his way through the car park and starts his car’s engine. He’s trying not to show his limp. But whether Sirius wants to look into it or not, he’s acutely aware of how much he notices everything about Remus Lupin. He’s point zero for Sirius. He’s always tuned into him. Notices all of his winces, all of his tics, his moods. Even when they’re not obvious. It’s always been that way. Sometimes Sirius wonders if they share a brain simply because he acts without even having to think. Will grab the ice pack for Remus before he asks, turns the heat up on the heating pads without any comment from Remus. Knows if Remus hasn’t taken his medicine, knows when he’s in pain. It’s like a sixth sense.

He tries not to think about it, too much.

Sirius leans over and opens the door for Remus before his fingers can even brush the handle. He smiles as he climbs into the car, sets his backpack on the floor at his feet. Sirius’ heart returns to a normal pace. A pace he wasn’t even aware was missing until Remus got into the car, a peaceful thrum of his heart. “Doctor Holme said Hey.”

“How is my favourite Doctor?” Sirius asks as he pulls out of his parking space. He’s never met Doctor Holme, but he communicates with her solely through Remus on the days he picks him up from his weekly check-ups.

“Adamant I’m going to need a knee replacement if I don’t cool it with the extra training hours that I’ve been putting in.” Remus grumbles, eyes following the ramp onto the highway as it speeds past.

There’s a lot of pressure on Remus. He was an early draft, before he even really left high school. He’s a record holder. A big hockey name. Chosen before the full extent of such a demanding career took its toll on his body. Since freshman year, Remus’ muscle mass has deteriorated. He won’t have as long of a career as the average person in the NHL, but he’s determined to have what he can. Lately, it’s not looking like much. Not that Remus will tell Sirius exactly how bad it is. No, everything Sirius knows, he knows through observation. Or Lily.

It’s not in Sirius’ nature to let other people’s lives affect his own. But he’s noticed that the idea of Remus’ illness getting worse makes his chest feel tight and his brain kick into problem solving mode. There are many open tabs on his laptop outlining rehabilitation therapy options, bone marrow transplants, clinical trials. If Remus saw them, he’d go crazy. He prefers to live in denial. It’s the bane of Sirius’ existence.

“He might have a point.” Sirius tells Remus as he flicks his blinker on, merges onto the highway.

St Mungo’s hospital is twenty minutes out from Hogwarts but it’s the best hospital within a hundred miles. So, Sirius drives Remus back and forth to his appointments when he can. When he can’t, James takes him. Or Lily. It’s an unspoken agreement between the four of them. Remus had once tried to hide his appointments from them. It hadn’t ended well.

Remus scoffs. “I know he has a point, Padfoot. But if I’m not at the top of my game next year, how is that going to look?”

There’s an edge to Remus’ voice that alerts Sirius to danger. They’re similar, in a lot of ways. Nasty tempers and even nastier words. Except, Remus keeps his temper off the ice. Sirius has no control over his.

“Moody gave us community service.” Sirius switches the subject with ease as he switches into the lane closest to the exit ramp for Hogwarts.

“James told me, yeah.” Remus nods, shifting to face Sirius.

He swallows thickly. Of course, James called Remus after their meeting this morning. Of course, he needed someone to talk it through with. A reasonable source of advice. Because Sirius is aware he has no advice of value for the situation James finds himself in. The situation Sirius put him in.

“I feel like shit. He looked like a kicked puppy.” Sirius hates letting James down. Sure, he’s his captain and that should be enough. But James is Sirius’ best friend. His soul mate, his safe space. The person he’s been running to since he could run. James is strong and safe, he’s loyal down to his fucking bones. What had Sirius expected when he started that fight? For James to watch it happen?

He should have known. After all this time, he should have fucking known.

“James is a big boy; he knew the consequences when he punched Snape.” Remus speaks softly to Sirius. Like he knows the shame spiral he’s in and wants to help pull him out. James isn’t the only protector Sirius knows.

Where James is fair in his protectiveness, Remus often throws caution to the wind. He’s fierce in his loyalty. Sometimes to a fault. Like Sirius.

“You know James as well as I do. I jump, he jumps.” Sirius sighs, defeated. “I should have let it go. I knew they were trying to get me on the bench, and I still let them get to me.”

Remus hums, nods his head in a fair agreement. Sirius looks over at him for a second. Just one second before his eyes return to the road. His eyes are sweet and understanding. A sticky honey colour that Sirius finds he likes a lot.

“Maybe.” Remus mumbles, fingers reaching up to rub at the scar above his lip. A tic. A nervous one, born from Sirius’ eyes on him.

Sirius laughs. “Maybe?”

Remus laughs too, head tilted back, and the sound is so light and easy it breathes fresh life into Sirius’ lungs. Lifts the residual anxiety sitting heavy in his chest as they pull up to the house. “Okay,” He breathes, “You definitely should have walked away from that fight. But you didn’t. So now you just have to get on with it.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He looks over at Remus.

Remus smiles. It’s quick and fleeting, a smile that Sirius knows is reserved only for him. It warms his cheeks as he smiles back.

“You want dinner?” Remus asks as they pull into the empty drive.

James isn’t home, his parking space void of his stupidly oversized truck.

“Depends, what’re you making?” Sirius grabs Remus’ bag from the footwell, climbs out of the car.

Remus laughs, “A phone call. For pizza.”

Sirius moans from behind Remus, who’s fumbling with his keys for the front door, “You know how to talk dirty to me, Moony.”

Remus scoffs, “You couldn’t handle my dirty talk, Black.”

And, well. Sirius doesn’t think he has an answer for that.

You

You shouldn’t be surprised, in all honesty. You’ve been expecting him to attempt some sort of damage control since you’d spoken to Madame Pince, this morning. That conversation had gone over like a lead balloon; the exact reason you’re still skating. Two hours after your training ended. Even though the Zamboni guy is giving you a look suitable to someone who kicked his cat. Even though your ankle is throbbing, and Medic Pomfrey would chastise you for not taking a break. You’re technically not out of the woods yet, as she likes to remind you every chance she gets. Your ankle might be healed but you still have a lifetime of physiotherapy, it feels.

Skating is an out. It’s peace. Makes you feel free, like flying. It’s rare, these days, to skate for fun. For the enjoyment of the feeling that it gives you. You’ve been skating since you could walk. Competing since the minute you were old enough, talented enough. Eventually, skating for fun became a rarity. You love the sport with every bit of your beating heart. But it’s nice to stop the constant ebb and flow of anxiety, of competitiveness, and just exist on the ice.

James is sitting on the team benches, watching. There’s a sadness to him that you’d like to punch from his stupidly handsome face. So, you ignore him. Keep to the far side of the ice until your ankle is screaming at you to stop. James stands when you approach the bench, hands your water bottle over the board. It weighs heavy on you, the feeling of normalcy that such an action would once hold. It feels like an age ago that he would watch your practices, cheer for you even when he was the only one in the crowd. You snatch the bottle from his hand, take a drink while you wait for him to say something.

“Pince told you.” He states. There’s a hesitance on his face, readable in his body language. He’s flighty, unsure of how you’re going to react.

You hate that he’s unsure of how to act around you. Hate even more that it’s warranted. You’ve changed, over the summer. Made promises to yourself that no one will ever make you feel the way James made you feel, ever again. That breakup cost you nationals, last year. The heartache was a distraction. One that could have cost you your career. You refuse to let it happen again.

“She did. You’re here to do damage control, right? Tell me that you didn’t get to choose your community service. Tell me that Sirius started that fight, and you had no choice but to finish it. That you’re sorry, that you don’t want to make me uncomfortable. If you’re feeling extra sorry for yourself, you might even offer to take the suspension if it makes me more comfortable. That sound right?” You ask, face bored, arms crossed.

Hurt flashes in James’ eyes. Big and hazel coloured and stupidly kind, even now. “Sounds right, yeah.” His voice is thick, quiet.

James is usually the loudest voice in the room. Filled with laughter and a boyish charm that sunk it’s hooks into you and never quite let go. It’s odd, to hear him so quiet.

“Save it. Be on time, on Wednesday. We’ll figure it out as we go.” You tell him, gesturing for him to pass you your skate guards.

He does, wordlessly. Let’s you put them on and pass him through the box. You’re almost out of the plastic rink door when he calls after you. Every bone in your body tells you to keep walking, that nothing good will come from the desperation in his voice, the plea of your name. But you stop, turn. His gaze is burning, creates a lump in your throat that feels impossible to swallow. Your skin itches, your eyes water. The thing is, it’s still fresh. It’s easy to tell yourself that James is a person of your past when he’s not standing in front of you looking like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” He speaks.

“No, James,” You sigh, “You’re sorry that you feel like shit.”

He doesn’t respond. Looks like maybe the words have gotten lost in his throat. So, you leave him there, wet, hot tears falling down your cheeks the minute you’re gone from his line of vision. He doesn’t call after you, this time.  

And you hate the small part of you that wishes he would.

Lily is at the kitchen table when you find her. Not that it takes you long. Your apartment is the size of a shoe box, the maximum you could afford as close to campus as it is. It’s a mismatch of your décor and Lily’s, an eclectic mix that somehow works. There are books crammed on every surface, picture frames on every wall, odd, contrasting ornaments collected over the years. It’s a home, despite its small nature. A safe space where you can both leave the stress of your chosen careers at the door. Rare, is that the case, though.

Your skates thud against Lily’s recent thrift shop find; a cream and maroon rug that you’d call nothing short of an atrocity. The red head looks up from her laptop at the noise, blue light glasses halfway down her freckled nose. There are papers, pens, books, and cups of tea scattered all around her like some sort of tornado passed through the apartment. She, at least, looks apologetic about the mess. There’s no need, though. You’re both aware of the stress Lily is under this year.

“Have you eaten?” You ask, collecting the discarded mugs from around her and placing them in the sink.

Lily thanks you but shakes her head. She’s prone to forgetting she’s human and, in fact, needs food to survive. If she could, she’d survive off of tea and coffee, alone. You flick the kettle on to boil, pull a fresh mug from the cupboard. It’s one of Lily’s finds, a quirky handmade mug covered in oddly painted strawberries. She has a soft spot for the odd finds, the things someone once loved and then left to rot in the back of a thrift store. You think she should investigate that, psychologically. Lily claims she will, just when she has a spare minute.

“You want a sandwich and some chips? Something that won’t go cold when you inevitably forget it exists for three hours.” You offer, throwing a decaf tea bag into the strawberry mug and praying your best friend won’t notice.

“You’re so good to me. Yes, thank you.”

“Oh, I know.” You smile.

Lily doesn’t say much during the first couple bites of her sandwich. Judging on how it goes the opposite of forgotten, you assume she hasn’t eaten all day. If this is her at the beginning of the semester, you dread to see her during finals.

Her laptop discarded to the side; she picks at her chips. “Remus called a little while ago.” Her voice is laden with guilt.

You sigh, push your half empty plate towards one of her discarded textbooks. “Let me guess, it was a welfare check.”

Lily scoffs. “More like an SOS call. He wanted to know how mad you are at him. Told him you were a couple hours late home from practice so, like, astronomically mad.”

“Not at him.” You protest, rather childishly.

“No, not at him. I told him as much. You know what he’s like. He worries. He’s trying to balance it all. We all are.” Lily tells you softly, a crooked smile that reassures you she’s not mad about having to do it.

You wish things weren’t as awkward as they seem to be, currently. Lily and Remus grew up together, much like Sirius and James. Remus knowing both Lily and James is how you met your ex-boyfriend. You were a group. Close knit as can be. And you’re all still trying to figure out how to navigate that now things have changed. It’s exactly what you feared when you and James started dating. It was silly to believe his promise that nothing would ever change. That you’d never lose him.

Lily reaches a hand across the table, freckled fingers wiggling until you place your hand in hers. Her eyes soften, head nodding to show she’s listening.

“He came to the rink.” You tell her.

Surprise passes across her face. “Is that why you were so late?”

“No,” You shake your head. “No, he came right as I was leaving. Was planning on taking the suspension if it meant I’d be more comfortable and wouldn’t have to coach with him.”

Lily scoffs, “Classic James.”

You nod in agreement. For all James is an idiot who doesn’t think things through, he’s incredibly selfless. You think that’s why your breakup hurts so much. Because you want to hate him, it’d be so easy to hate him. But he’s a genuinely good guy who sometimes fucks up.

“I wish he’d stop putting everyone else first. Sirius flies off the handle and James chases right after him like he’ll die if he doesn’t. And I get it, he feels responsible for Sirius. It’s complicated. But I wish he’d just let Sirius deal with his shit on his own, for once.” You feel guilty for saying it as soon as you do, but you know Lily gets it.

Everyone does. Even Sirius.

His past is mostly privy between James and Sirius. But you know the gist.

“I know. They won’t get away with that shit in the League.” Lily agrees.

You sigh, long and suffering. It’s not your problem. At least, it shouldn’t be. If the fight that started this hadn’t landed James right in your lap and made it your problem.

“What’re you working on?” You ask, “Anything I can help with?”

Lily chuckles lightly, hands you a heavy stack of paper. “You could highlight all the paragraphs detailing anything to do with cell breakdown. But be warned, it’ll bore the shit out of you.”

You shrug, reaching over to grab Lily’s standard green highlighter. It’s her signature. Like Banksy. “A welcomed distraction, Lils.”

“Fair enough.”

And you both get to work.

[trainsinanime]

Trains in Miraculous Ladybug - The Season 6 Tram

Part 1: The Metro Train

Part 2: The Metro Station

Part 3: Startrain

Part 4: The Gare du Nord

Part 5: The Bus

It's a new season, and we got a new art style, new trains, buses, cars, villains and anxieties in the world of Miraculous Ladybug! Mostly trains, of course!

At the end of season 6, the right person got elected mayor, which immediately transformed Paris into a wonderland of walkable urbanity and plentiful urban transit, even more so than before. That's literally canon. As part of that, the city has gotten trams. A lot of them. And they're weird. Time to restart this series of posts that I thought I'd finished long ago!

This will only focus on the trams we see, because there's just one episode out yet, "The Illustrhator". This will contain spoilers for what happens to the trams there. There is also a new bus that we see very briefly, but I'm hoping other episodes will tell us more about that.

The Vehicle

The trams we see are single four-axle vehicles. Yes, four axles, we do get to count them.

The design looks like they're individual small wheels rather than connected axles, which is a common design that has its advantages and its drawbacks. The floor tram is entirely at one level, seemingly about 30-40 cm above rail height.

We do get to see its interior as well. Nice big windows, different seating layouts, a big wheelchair area, and readers for Navigo RFID tickets at all doors. And, interestingly, fold-down seats, which are a feature on older Paris metro rolling stock.

We get a tiny hint of the inside of the cab as well. According to the display, we're going forward, and we're on line T3A towards Porte De Vincennes. And we're going 70 km/h.

There is actually a real-life Paris line T3A that does terminate at Porte De Vincennes (where you can change for the T3B), and I want to talk more about that, but before we can go there I need to talk about the rear of the train first. It has an open platform!

The rear platform

Don't worry about it being raised in the air here, that's just because the tram is currently falling down because the bridge is collapsing.

But don't worry, that is not a supervillain thing, the bridge just did that on its own, that's perfectly fine…

…right? The characters treat it like it's perfectly fine that this bridge just partially collapses without any supernatural interference, but, uhm, I have concerns. Questions even. Frankly I'm far more worried about that than about any supervillains. Alya and Nino later interview the mayor, and they completely ignore that a city bridge collapsed while a tram was going over it.

Sorry, I keep getting distracted. The rear of the tram has an open platform, which looks silly, is silly, is completely unrealistic, and I love it! See, while I am not aware of any trams like that, unless you count partially open ones like the San Francisco Cable Cars, but those are not quite the same.

However, there is a precedent for this platform, because Paris has a long history of city buses with such platforms. A good example is the Renault TN series

Picture from Wikimedia Commons, taken in 1950 by Sven Goliath, published by the Stockholm Transport Museum Commons

These were mostly a thing in the 1930s, but then got brought back in limited numbers in the 1960s after a Saviem SC10 had an accident that destroyed most of its rear, and RATP decided to be funny while rebuilding it. Later Saviem built these busses in series.

Picture from Wikimedia Commons, Tumblr won't let me link to the actual page there but it's on the Wikipedia article, taken by Sauvabus (bus historical association), published under CC-BY 4.0 international

All buses since then have put their engine at the rear, which has a lot of benefits, but also means it's right where this platform would go, so this has fallen out of fashion. Today you can only experience it when the one private transport museum near Paris has its monthly opening day, which is something I really need to visit one of these days. Here's a video showing the experience:

So there is precedent for this rear platform. Does it serve any purpose? Not really. Is it fun? Absolutely! And that's all it was on the Saviem SC10 as well, really. I love this platform. It's historic, it's quirky, it's fun, it's great.

The show definitely aims for a retro-futurist vibe now, seen e.g. in cars, like this modern take on the Citroën DS:

This modern take on this 60s and 70s legendary classic is what the modern DS brand should do, instead of their array of generic boring SUVs. Anyway, I'm not going to go too far into that, if I start talking about the cars in Miraculous Ladybug I'll never stop (yo is that a modern Peugeot 504? They literally modernised Aphrodite from Only Murders in the Building!). But I will say that this detail matches nicely.

The Infrastructure

Look at that station! Gorgeous! The designers of this show have created a tram stop in the style of the famous Guimard metro entrances, with their beautiful Art Nouveau design. That's amazing. I wish real tram stops in Paris look like that.

As for the tram stop itself, it's a low floor island platform with walkways to the sides, which matches modern standards for new tram stops worldwide. The track has gras planted on it, which is also common and popular, as it helps absorb noise, water, heat and pollution and it just looks nice. Yes, side platforms are more common, but this is still what a modern urban light rail network can and should look like. The only thing unrealistic about it is how pretty it is.

It should be noted that there's no overhead lines here, so the trains are powered by batteries, probably. That, or hydrogen, but a hydrogen tram would be a supremely bad idea, nobody would ever build something like that…

…except for Hyundai for some reason.

God that thing annoys me by its very existence. Hydrogen is expensive and will remain expensive for the next few decades, and this is what you're spending it on? A tram!? Trams should run with overhead wires. That's the good thing about a tram, you know where it's going to be, so you can put a wire there to give it power, and then you don't have to worry about batteries or hydrogen storage or whatever…

Sorry, I got distracted. Anyway, no overhead lines is realistic, and if they ever say, "it's a hydrogen tram" in future episodes, that'll be realistic too, even if it shouldn't be.

Instead let's look at this!

Closer…

Yeah! They finally fixed the metro map! The old one was an unholy mess of lines that didn't match anything (which I complained about before), but this one clearly has the Seine flowing through Paris as it should, with the island in the middle. The transport lines on it don't seem to match anything I can recognise, neither Metro nor RER, but let's just assume they are the new tram lines that happen to go this way.

Compared to the real thing

Real-life Paris abandoned trams in the 1930s already, being a negative trend-setter there. It didn't help that trams were limited to lower top speeds than buses were at the time. However, since the 1990s, trams have made a huge comeback in the Paris region.

(Aside: Note that I say the Paris region. There's only really one tram line in Paris itself (plus a few stops from the other ones). Where Berlin or London absorbed most of their suburbs at some point in the 20th century, Paris didn't, so the actual Paris part of the Paris region is surprisingly small. That's why Paris has both far fewer and way more inhabitants than e.g. Berlin, depending on what you count.)

Anyway, the tram lines in Paris mostly serve the suburbs, providing tangential connections from one suburb to the next so you don't have to take the metro or RER into the city centre, change at fucking Châtelet-Les Halles, and ride back out again. A unique feature of the the tram network is that each line is separate, with its own tracks and maintenance facilities, and at times very different technologies used. Most of the tram lines don't connect to other tram lines at all, each line is just out there doing its own thing. And since they're out in the suburbs, as a tourist you're unlikely to ever see one if you don't go looking for it.

The exception to that is the T3, divided into T3A and T3B, which runs in a 3/4 circle around Paris along the outer boulevards. The final quarter is where rich NIMBYs live, so it'll be a while until the circle gets closed, I fear.

This actual T3 is run with long bi-directional vehicles with no open platform anywhere in sight, and pleasant but considerably more boring stations. It does have green track (meaning with grass) in many places, though, and it has overhead wires.

In Paris, the trams are used as very long buses (with some overlap with really tiny metros) in underserved areas. Serving areas outside the city core is really the main thrust of Paris transit development at the moment, with a 200 km metro extension, the Grand Paris Express, being built exclusively to better connect the suburbs. This mega project is one of the coolest things happening in public transport anywhere in the world at the moment. The trams augment this.

I do actually think that some trams in Paris's city centre could make sense, to replace the busier bus routes. And there are definitely thoughts about that, but with all the money going towards doubling the size of the Metro, I don't think we'll see that very soon.

The verdict

I like that tram. I don't think it's what Paris would actually have, a longer articulated bidirectional model without a rear platform would make more sense, but I love the quirkiness of it. This season is off to a good start.