#is due to me and my decisions and not to them

[thecorefrisk]

Um, here’s my suggestion to the DP fans who want to only DP content… why not make your own tag??

I’ll probably sound passive aggressive when saying this but I understand. It’s super frustrating trying to find content for one fandom and then seeing completely different content.

Why not make a ‘dp only’ tag? That way anyone could find any sort of Danny Phantom only content without having to scroll through countless of other works to get to it.

I get it, it’s much more easy to put up a wall than build a bridge but creating an entirely new tag for yourselves can also be a rather constructive choice!

(My only question is… why is this an issue now rather than earlier? Is this something a lot of DP fans have been already thinking or it more so a recent thing??)

—

Edit: I posted something similar in the comments and I have a reblog up for anyone to see but I’ll say it here as well! This post was likely founded in my own hurt!! I personally think it felt entitled for me to say, someone else said it sounded condescending. Those two things don’t exactly contradict each other!!

(But the condescension part might’ve been just my lack of understanding of how my words come across to others due to the autism thing, but y’know, no excuse unless my entire family also happened to die before I wrote this. Which did NOT happen if you’re wondering, I’m just scared they will and that’s like, super different.)

I have had a history of being pushed out of things and spaces in which I should’ve been accepted into (ex: autism spaces, other fandoms, friendships). I was trying to ‘nice’ and also give my own opinion at the same time. (A skewed opinion.) I knew the whole discourse made me feel… bad but I didn’t know where it came from and I just posted this in an impulsive decision.

Not necessarily to go ‘ha! Losers!’ But to put up sort of shield to defend myself. So, I am sorry. For the condescension and for the passive aggressiveness. I already knew that was a problem in my speech but I didn’t realize it was THAT bad.

Uhh, let me review the things I did wrong. (I like lists.)

First off, I disregarded a group of people’s feelings for my own. Second, I decided to ‘bring up a solution’ that was more so a half assed compromise which was likely already someone else’s suggestion as well. Third, I also just so ‘happened to forget’ that the DP tag… WAS your tag. That you should be able to go through it without someone else shoving content from a different fandom in your face in all directions.

I mean, if I want my feelings to be heard, I should be hearing other people’s feelings too. It’s not fair for me to bring up my own opinions, expect them to be taken as seriously as anybody else’s, and then not give that treatment. And also I should probably learn impulse control?? I think I have a grip on it unless I feel hurt. Otherwise I’m fine.

It was probably, to me, that the post I first saw about it made it feel like people were going ‘…get out?’ (The post I saw was one asking for people to exclusively use the DP x DC tag for those kinds of posts. Which, in itself, is actually not a bad idea and would allow for further freedom as people are allowed to be separate but connected to the DP fandom and perhaps even the DC fandom.)

Basically, I was projecting my own past trauma onto this random person who just felt frustrated they had to scroll past what felt like a million posts just to get to the fandom they wanted to see. And the kind of posts they saw, might’ve not been the kind that they wanted to see at all which is even more frustrating. They likely wrote in a moment of frustration and it kind of came off as such in their writing. But that doesn’t mean that my reaction is their fault in the slightest.

It means I had a reaction to something I felt was hurtful. I’ve written this line before but when I sat down and actually thought about it all it felt all the truer. ‘They aren’t trying to give you a bad time, they are having one’. I made it about me— which was not cool of me.

So, again, I am sorry. I hope this comes across as me actually taking accountability for my actions and not another passive aggressive fat amount of text like I fear it will be.

Thank you, though! To the people who were so, so nice in the comments. You weren’t, like, mean to me about this even though I was sounding pretty bratty. Some were a little frustrated but it was in a way that I could understand and your hearts were all in the right place. Because even though this seems very small— a fandom having a space on Tumblr to be able to see their own content— it gives people a place where they can meet people who like the same things and even make friends out of it. And you also expressed your thoughts in a way that I could get! Which was super sweet, thank you so much. :>

Mwah, mwah, love you!! 🫶🏼

[lilac-ossuary]

Lectured

Emmrich x F!Rook Ingellvar. 18+. Ollie sneaks into one of Emmrich’s lectures, sure he won’t notice her. He does. Immediately. AO3 link.

He didn’t notice at first. Students file past him, quiet conversations that pass his ears without comprehension, Emmrich’s eyes on his lecture notes. The projector is on, slides ready behind him, and he adjusts his glasses, placing his notecards at the corner of the lectern, not that he would need them, of course. The three tiered lecture hall was mostly full, the few seats emptied by students who dropped the class early on. It was never Emmrich’s intention to drive students from his classes, but he did not tolerate those that have no grasp of the importance of the work. The body may be a cathedral of knowledge, but those walls are full of memory. A visual system of stained glass that saw life in a unique blend of color. A belltower of neurons. An organ that played a pulse of lasting relationships.

Never forget that you’re studying the story of you.

Emmrich clears his throat, students growing quiet, laptops opening, a few macbooks announcing their presence with a resounding thrum. His eyes scan each face, wordlessly reciting each name as he takes an internal attendance. “Guten Morgen. I trust you read the text assigned from last week’s class. First, a reminder-,” his words halt, caught in his throat when his gaze lands on a young woman near the back. Round spectacles sit low on a petite nose, cornflower blue returning his stare quite innocently. Her curls are pinned up, yet strands fall around her face in delicate spirals, a wildness to hair that she cannot tame. “A reminder that your essays on the importance of the lymphatic system in immunity are due by 11:59 this evening.” He continues in a low, warning voice, brow arching when the young woman smiles at him.

Glasses could never hide the face his fingers traced this morning as he kissed her goodbye. Hair accessories do not diminish the memory of what her curls look like spilled over their pillows when she’s beneath him.

He would know his wife anywhere. Especially when the rotten little thing was wearing his sweater.

“I see we have a new face with us today,” he says, a wicked smile spreading across his lips that has a few students in the front shifting uncomfortably. He spreads his arms in a welcoming gesture, bangles jingling. “Don’t be shy. Bitte. Stand up and introduce yourself.” A few students exchange strange looks, confused by Dr. Volkarin’s sudden behavior. He hates icebreakers.

Ollie’s lips are parted in surprise, and then she grimaces, placing her hands flat on the table, then standing up. Okay, she didn’t expect that. Every face in the room turns to look at her, chairs scraping as bodies adjust to the awkward angle. She gives Emmrich a wide eyed look, but he appears very self satisfied. “Nervous?” He asks, sounding reasonably concerned for a man ruining her carefully made plans. “Come now. We won’t bite.” He grins again. It says what he doesn’t - But I will.

“Hallo,” she begins slowly, eyes darting about the room. Her cheeks flush, and she takes a cleansing breath, entirely regretting her decision. “My name is Liesel. Liesel…,” she drags the name out, eyes darting around the room while trying to think of a surname. “Volgellvar?” It comes out like a question.

“Volgellvar,” Emmrich deadpans, momentarily forgetting their little game. Oh, liebling. His mustache twitches.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s me,” she says, sounding a little defeated. She smiles, sheepishly.

“Well. Sit down, Fräulein, and try to keep up. It is the middle of the term, after all.” He swiftly returns to the podium, clicking to the next slide.

***

The last student leaves, the lecture hall quiet, some chairs still haphazardly pulled out as if the ghost of its former occupant remains. Ollie slowly puts her things away, ignoring the sound of the door closing, the click of the lock, and the slow, steady footsteps of her husband as he ascends to the third tier of seats where she’s trying very hard to look invisible.

“Liesel, was it?” He asks, voice pitched low. A single ringed finger slips beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to his. “Beautiful name. My wife and I considered it for a future daughter’s name.”

“Oh?” She breathes, swallowing. “Your wife must be very clever and lovely to come up with such a perfect name.” Her eyes stray to the right. “As a Liesel myself, of course.”

He chuckles, velvet-like and deep. “Liebling, what compelled this clever disguise today, hmm?” He lets go of her chin, knuckles brushing across her soft cheek. “Were you missing your Professor?”

“I thought I would surprise you,” she pouts, scrunching her nose when he removes her glasses. She watches him carefully fold the temples and lay them on the other side of the tabletop. “I was at home and feeling neglected.”

He makes a low sound in his throat. “Neglected? I am a very poor husband for leaving you in such a condition.” He clicks his tongue. “Come, meine Frau.” His fingers deftly pull out her clip, his eyes dark as her hair spills around her shoulders. He arranges her curls with gentle fingers. “Do you know what I was thinking when I saw you sitting here? An innocent little lamb nearly swallowed by my sweater.”

Ollie doesn’t say anything, too busy staring at him while every nerve in her body begins to sing simply from the way he’s looking at her. “Olivia,” he says gently, but firmly. “Use your words. Do you know what I was thinking, Schatz?”

“What were you thinking, min älsking?” His nostrils flare at her Swedish, and he sucks in a breath. His bangles clash together as he grabs her waist with almost feral intensity, lifting her from the chair, and pivoting, urging her to sit on the table. He slots himself between her legs, pressing so close, she can feel his quickening breath against her lips.

Maker, he looms over her. Curls over her, eyes blazing, hips pressing closer. Seeking. Grinding. Contrary to the heat of the moment, he presses a wisp of a kiss to her lips. “There is no man more fortunate than I,” he says tenderly, his nose tracing a line across her cheek. “Also, my wife is deranged.”

She snorts, placing a hand on his chest. He grins a little, pulling back to look at her face, utterly undone by the silly girl in front of him. “I thought we were going to have scandalous sex in your classroom,” she says, heaving a playfully disappointed sigh.

“Oh, Ollie,” he says gravely, the clink of his belt catching her attention as he slowly pulls the leather from its loops. “Did you really think you were going to get away with this?”

Her mouth goes dry when he pulls himself, thick and wanting, from his trousers. “On your knees, Frau Volkarin. Be a good girl.”

[lovejongseob]

hi again! i was thinking, could you write a small chested + nipple pierced reader x jongseob (sfw and nsfw as you prefer) ?

i would really like to have my nipple pierced btw do you or/and you community have some warnings or anything to say abt that?? ∩^ω^∩

also i’m going through the last part of my exams i can’t see the end of it!! that being said, thank you for your recent works!

byyye, take care (*^▽^*)

-🐢anon

Jongseob x Reader w Small + Pierced Chest

I struggled so hard w the title i cant lie it looks like a math equation or something. hiii again 🐢 !! you know me so well, ofc !! ill talk to you a little more in the a/n, but thank you so much for requesting, i hope you enjoy !! tried making it as gn as possible, sorry if theres an over usage of the word chest (there has to be 💔)

Sfw

When you tell Jongseob you got your nipples pierced, he tries to act casual, but is honestly going insane. He can't help but feel slightly flustered, his head feels light just imagining it. He's unmistakably supportive of everything you do, especially in this decision.

He doesn't mind helping you clean them, no matter what's going on with the development. "But they get gross!", Jongseob will never view your tits as gross, that as an intrusive thought would make him feel sick. Yes, in reality, there are some odd and unflattering aspects to it all, but he would never get unsettled because of the natural healing process.

Just can't stop himself from looking a little. Jongseob really tries not to, he never wants to be perverted, but in some situations he's helpless. When you're in private and without a bra, Jongseob finds himself seeking out the metal. Genuinely loves how flat baggy clothes make your chest look, even more so with the occasional peek of hard metal. Bonus points if you're wearing his shirt. Doesn't realize he's been staring until you lightheartedly tease him. You understand it's mostly from a place of curiosity.

Nsfw

You wouldn't be able to tell because of how sweet and patient Jongseob is to you, but he's losing his mind during the healing process. He really just loves your chest so much, especially because of how small it is. While he could never make a choice because he just loves you so much, he is unconsciously drawn more to that area. Arguably obsessed, wants to show you so badly how pretty he thinks they look, but waits.

When you say it's okay to start doing things again, he's still fairly nervous. But he's so cute when he's a bit shy, softly massaging and kissing around your breasts. His eyes are a little glossy and fixed on the metal. Still careful not to overlap with your nipples or the piercings, even though he's eager for the day.

Once you're both sure it's completely safe, he's still tender with his touch, but a bit more bold. He'll suck lightly at your nipples, letting his tongue somewhat swirl around them. Jongseob is so into how he can cover and fit one of your breasts in one hand. It feels even better with the metal, he can't help but roll them around a bit.

At the end of the day, on a personal level, Jongseob needs them in his face while you ride him. This has always been a weakness of his, but the piercings just make him feel even more sensitive. Loves the small shakes and bounces, and how he can fit a good portion of them into his mouth at once. The visual is enough to bring him to the edge.

yap warning im saying so much and so little at the same time. actually so tired writing this im ssoo sorry i need to pass out now. its been a minute since this req was put in, hopefully all your exams went super well !! I've had a post w my advice and other stuff up, i hope you've seen it !! due to my paranoia im gonna take it down soon, but it'll be up a lil longer just in case. so sorry if im accidentally missing something you said, i honestly loved this req so much its one of my favs. and thank you for reading the recent posts (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡ I'm absolutely talking my ass off, here and at the beginning which i usually dont want to do but i did and im actually too sleepy to care. so so sorry i will make a misc post saying anything extra if needed but I think I used the last of my brain power to write and now extra words are just falling out oh my god i need to stop typing. thank you so much for requesting 🐢, i hope you enjoyed !!

[serenitiesbloom]

guess who just finished kpop demon hunters and is currently hyperfixated hahahha! anyway I love baby saja so here’s some brain food from yours truly.

tw: spicy food, pinch of yan. possibly ooc :( spelling errors wc: 637

thinking about…baby saja who loves his hot sauce and when the saja boys aren’t performing, goes to nearby mini marts and convenience stores to buy bottles of hot sauce to devour at the shared apartment he has with the other boys.

Baby saja who posts reviews of different hot sauce brands online and becomes an internet sensation overnight thanks to his trademark sass and deep voice voicing in all his videos and streams. (who knew hot sauce was such an interesting topic?)

Baby saja who meets you one day, you the clueless human staring at two bottles of hot sauce like you were about to make a life-altering decision.

Baby saja who stares at your focused expression and suggests the bottle in your left hand as his favourite and you, instead of freaking out over a member of THE saja boys speaking to you, nod and walk off with the bottle in hand. (though he does look familiar, you think to yourself as you stroll past a billboard with an up-and-coming boy band including a vaguely familiar member with mint blue hair.)

Baby saja who meets you again entirely by chance at a street food market while he was trying all the spicy food and spots you, the odd human in that mini mart. 

Baby saja who offers to walk around the food fair with you.

Baby saja who recommends all his favourite spicy food.

Baby saja who purposely picks the spiciest food to have you try just to see your cheeks flush with heat and your lips pucker from the spice.

Baby saja who makes fun of your red face but finds it cute so he continues to give more spice.

Baby saja who ends up eating all the food you find ‘too spicy’. 

Baby saja who walks you home after eating with promises of treating you to more spicy food.

Baby saja who makes sure to keep in contact with you by visiting you or texting. (how did he even get your number anyway?)

Baby saja who grows close to you over the course of a few ‘spice dates’ as you would call it after he keeps bringing spicy food whenever you meet him.

Baby saja who will sass you into oblivion yet steal your heart with his devastating face card.

Baby saja who despite telling himself he’ll steal your soul soon, just can’t seem to do that after seeing you smile sweetly at him. 

Baby saja who despite knowing that all demons feel are their past feelings of regret and grief, he knows that what he feels for you a simple human isn’t hunger for your soul but desire to see you at his side. 

Baby saja who spots you in the crowd at the saja boy’s live performance of ‘Soda Pop’ and makes sure to keep eye contact with you as the song ends.

Baby saja who after the performance assures you that he’ll still visit and offer you buldak no matter how busy he is with idol things (or stealing souls for gwi-ma).

Baby saja who quite literally lives up to his namesake behaving like a baby be it for the fans or for you. (but he is softer with you ehehehehehe)

Baby saja who hates aegyo with all his demon life but will still begrudgingly do it for you if you ever asked  just you.

Baby saja who gives you saja boy merch after seeing how you decided to support them. (how come all of them are all of him though?)

Baby saja who is a little spoon and likes to snuggle into your chest like a baby.(pun totally intended.)

Baby saja who eventually tells you about him being a demon sent to steal human’s souls but he won’t ever steal yours! Just say the word and he’ll spirit you far far away from all the pain with his embrace so please just believe in him only. ♡ 

a/n: this was super rushed but i hope you like it! :3 might make more of this haha.

as for my jinwoo fic will be temporarily paused due to my laptop giving up on me but it will be continued!

buldak: korean spicy chicken

© serenitiesbloom 2025

[sakumz]

Hello there! May I have a cinnamon roll with vanilla latte for Nagumo? >_<

a/n : -

____________________________________________

[ n. yoichi x reader]

____________________________________________

nagumo couldn't believe his eyes, ever since he met sakamoto again due to the bounty on his head... he finally found you!

" y/n! " he cried, jumping onto your back and tackling you into a hug, knocking the wind out of you.

" get-get off me! I'm grocery shopping! " slapping his back, he only laughs.

" nuh uh, you left the order, can't let you go. "

" well that's because I don't agree with their sense of justice and besides you've got no room to talk me back into joining, your actions are either good or evil. "

he finally lets go, staring into your soul before he lets his signature grin shows.

it was true, his actions were either good or bad. you leaving was something he expected. you always believe in your justice, if you didn't like it, you'd move out quickly.

" well you were always serious about everything, " he pats your head from the floor, getting up and leaving before he could continue his small talks.

by continuing it'd only make him miss you more. you were always some sort of ground that roots him and his chaotic actions or self.

during one mission with sakamoto when he mindlessly walks into an all out cross fire and you were the one who quickly drags him down behind some knock down table, aiming your gun perfectly at the enemies, all dead with a head shot. he swoons. whern the trio met up with the enemy's boss, you wasted no time in slicing his neck before any of them could react. you were so direct and precise with your kills. he would've taken it slow and get the enemy to spill every last secret till their dying breath for fun, if he felt like it.

during jaa time, you don't even sway to any of his sweet words and flirts, never once backing down when you made a decision and he tries to change it. people say you weren't into him but he'd like to think otherwise, maybe there's a small part of the serious, stoic and cool person he could crack in the long run.

despite it being the first in a long long time that he's seen you, it'd be another long long time before he meets you again. this time as a fugitive. you laugh when he appears by your door, looking dumb as always.

" they try to get me back in the order, " you start, pouring hot water into the ramen cup for him, he watches from the table as you move around.

" oki? "

" yeah, he said if I didn't join I might as well become one of you, " handing him the cup and his chopsticks, he nearly dropped it from the news.

" but you weren't even in the museum, hell you didn't even do anything! "

" he assumes I'm working with you. " your voice remains calm and neutral, he's starting to get frustrated.

" maybe I should go kill him. "

" it's not worth the energy, besides then the rest of order will come for you, you should go into hiding for a bit. I'm sure there's still a part for you to play when sakamoto and friends, really need your help or you could find some more secret members to join them. "

" secret members? "

" yeah like yotsumura. "

he chokes upon hearing the name.

" how did you know I kept him alive? "

" I've been talking to shishiba, he told me everything. "

he slams his head against the table, the way your voice just remains nonchalant about everything. does that mean when you were out of the game, you were still talking to an order member that wasn't nagumo yoichi?

" do you not care about me? " he mumbles, head still on the table.

" I do care about you, I just know you won't give me something serious, like shishiba he's straight to the point. you'll definitely try and take me out when I'm trying to hide from the order and then all my efforts to leave and live a peaceful life goes down the drain. "

he hums in thought at your answer. sure he may not be the best at keeping all the secrets of the world but a small part of him hurts, knowing you don't trust him because of his playful and too much personality.

" do you ever think we'd be lovers? "

silence befalls the two, he quickly shoots up from his seat, staring at you wide eyes, your face flushed red, you never thought much about him that way. maybe back in the jaa and early order days when his touch lingers a little longer than usual, that you slowly thought of dating and what if he was your boyfriend. seeing sakamoto and his wife wedding photo, sure you thought about it too but the man wasn't nagumo, just what if I was married to another man who isn't nagumo yoichi. he was the only closest guy in your life.

" um I didn't mean to make this awkward, I'll leave- " grabbing his hand before he walks fully pass you, he stops.

" n-no it's fine, I just never thought much about it. " he smiles upon closer look, the ever stoic and serious you, was crumbling.

" it's fine, don't think much about it, it was just a slip of the tongue. " you slap him across the face, standing up to face him fully.

" don't joke about things like romance to a girl! " you scold.

" man I didn't think it'd piss you off that much, " running a hand through his hair, you'll take him out now for messing with you.

sure it's been a long time since he's done so but this was a bit too serious and much for your heart to handle.

" well do you ever think we'd be lovers? " you repeat his question as a smirk forms from his mouth.

" of course, especially right now! Id marry you in a heartbeat if you let me, " jumping to hug you, you fall into his embrace, listening to his heart beat that doesnt seem to want to stop beating for even a second.

" please don't tell me you're joking- "

" I'm being as serious as you, I've always liked you, sure you were a pain in the beginning of our friendship but you've managed to charm me in so many ways possible. even if you weren't the cutest girl or every guy's dream girl, you are the cutest when you're really yourself. that's what I love most about you, " your face turns red from his words, for once he managed to beat you down with his words.

pulling away to inspect your face, you weren't expecting him to kiss your forehead then cheeks next, looking at your lips, you quickly put a hand on his mouth.

" don't, stop. you haven't heard my answer- "

he grabs your hand, locking his fingers with yours ever so smoothly as he shoots you one more smile.

" I don't have to, " he kisses your lips, slow and tender, as he pulls away you're left gasping for air.

" it's written all over your face, even if you won't say it out loud, I know you're also in love with me. you would've killed me last time and all the times before and right now, you could've killed me too when I'm so vulnerable and weak. "

you laugh at his words, the first happy sound he hears from all your years as a stoic lady around him. he finally cracked you.

-----

bakery event | orders

[creatortools]

OC LORE FINALLY YIPPEE

Mb it’s kinda late, but better late than never-

So here is Sorn (the mentor) and Auric (S-2005)

The first photo is Sorn while the second is Auric. Some info about them is below :D

I just pulled up some character sheet templates from Pinterest and added, changed or removed some of the info from the templates.

Sorn:

-Name: Sorn Night Valor -Meaning of name: First name means "revenge" -Nicknames: Mentor/the Mentor/My Mentor (Auric), High Commander/Commander V/V (His men, Auric), Friend (Auric) -Age: Older than 100, but younger than 200 -Gender: Male (He/him) -Sexuality: Gay -Height: 6'2 -Species: Human, Immortal Type A, cannot die due to old age (but can die to other means like murder) -Relationship status: Single -Some Known Relationships (any kind): Lotan "Leviathan" Oliver (Deceased husband), Hydor Oliver-Valor (son), S-2005 ("Traveling buddy"), Lieutenant V (Brother) -Strengths: Strong, quick decision making, smart, paranoid -Weaknesses: Bulky/slow-ish, rash decision making, lack in empathy, paranoid -Other: Tried to kill Auric when they first met.

Auric:

-Name: S-2005 -Meaning of name: Auric means "Golden", but for S-2005, The S means "Sniper" -Nicknames: Auric (Sorn), Traitor (SG-████), Roach (P-████), Piece of trash/scrap metal (P-████) -Age: Almost 200 -Gender: Male (He/they/it) -Sexuality: Queer -Height: 7'4 -Species: War Machine/Robot (Don’t have a name for the species yet), image is him in his human disguise/form -Relationship status: Single -Some Known Relationships (any kind): Sorn Night Valor (Mentor), SG-████ (Former ally), P-████ (Former ally, Ex), Hydor Oliver-Valor (Prisoner) -Strengths: Extremely strong, cunning, tech advancements, face recognition -Weaknesses: Lack of intelligence (but not completely stupid), height, large amounts of water, their core, unable to understand some aspects of human society -Other: He's left handed, his species has a crosshair (thing in shooting games) in their eyes. Auric has it in his left eye, which indicates he's left handed. | His programing is all over the place. | Mistook a garbage can as a charging pod

Sorn's thoughts about Auric:

"I don't like him. He's annoying, doesn't know much about Earth and human inventions. He should know them. Their species is super intelligent. They can read me like a book, they know how their complex alien inventions work. So how come he doesn't know or understand basic Earth things like etiquette and our basic inventions and Earth in general. It doesn't make sense to me at all. I have seen their species outright contrast this. His species knows about stuff like that, so why is he an outlier? Is he just pretending? Fuck, maybe he's trying to backstab me or something. I need to kill them before they kill me…but I need them…I need them in order to see my son again. But…if he harmed my son, I don’t care about keeping him alive, I won’t hesitate to kill him for his actions."

(Sorn stopped responding to any of my questions for the day)

Auric's thoughts about Sorn:

"A lovely man. He seems nice, seems to care about me and the humans around him. He gave me the name Auric. It's such a beautiful name. He just seems…mad at me all the time…or just distant. I wish I knew why. Well…I mean…I was a guard…uhm…guarding his son's prison cell, and my kind killed his husband, maybe that's why. But…I'm not like them…I am just doing my job. I made sure he was fed…I made sure he was safe…I…I didn't hurt his son, I swear…I didn't hurt his son.”

(Auric was silent for a moment)

“…I…I mean, he’s kind enough to keep my true identity a secret. I’m an enemy to the human race, my kind and his kind are at war for quite some time now. I’m loyal to the hive…but…the humans. They can’t…I can’t…I don’t know which side to fight for. I…I apologize I’m not usually this soft. I’ll just…”

(Steam or smoke started to come from his head and was unresponsive for the rest of the day. He was able to function but stopped talking for the rest of the day)

These thoughts were recorded a couple months after they first met. These thoughts might change over time. So hehehehe…

Might add onto this and draw them digitally? (I’m changing up the way I draw on digital so much that I am unmotivated AAAAAAA) But you guys can always ask questions about these two as well as the rest of my universe :D. I'll talk about some of my worlds next.

@riooooooooo I'll get into some of my worlds hehe

After that, if you guys are interested in Auric's species. I'll make a post about it! I love making his species :D.

@waterbottlegal15 wanted some OC lore so here is some OC lore

Height difference:

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Librarian & The Wolverine ~ The End ~ Part 2

THE LIBRARIAN & THE WOLVERINE MASTERLIST

< previous: The End ~ Part 1

Word Count: 6,150ish

Summary: Logan really struggles and your condition continues to get worse.

Notes: The warnings are below the cut. Tread carefully.

Warning(s): insecurities, time jumps, PTSD, dissociation, injuries, memory loss, seizures, character death

The slipping was getting worse. Not just longer— but sharper. You would come back with a headache, with your limbs trembling, your thoughts out of order. Sometimes you would blink and the clock would have jumped hours. Sometimes Logan would be calling your name like he had been doing it for ages, panic barely restrained in his voice. And sometimes— you wouldn’t remember slipping at all or the people around you. Due to these reasons, you were mostly banned from the mansion library and you spent more time in your apartment than at the mansion.

The meeting in Charles’ office was quiet. Jean sat silently. Hank tapped a pen nervously. Logan stood behind you with one hand on your shoulder, grounding you. It was Charles who finally spoke.

“We believe,” he began carefully, “that the books in your living space may be unintentionally feeding the instability of your abilities. The emotional imprints, the data you absorb even without meaning to… it’s like you’re living in a constant hum of static.”

You shook your head. “No,” you said immediately. “No, you’re not taking my books.”

“We’re not saying forever,” Hank added, gently. “We’re just saying— maybe giving your mind a break. Something controlled. Clean.”

“My books are the only things that make me feel normal.”

Logan shifted behind you. His grip on your shoulder tightened slightly.

“We understand that,” Charles said, “but your condition is deteriorating. And if we don’t act now—“

“So what?” You stood, pulling free from Logan’s grasp. “You want to empty my home? Turn it into a sterile little safe room where I sit and twiddle my thumbs in a padded char?”

“No one is suggesting that,” Jean said. “We just want to keep you here. Alive.”

Logan hadn’t said anything. You turned to him now, eyes wide. “You’re not going to let them do this.”

His jaw was clenched, hard. “I don’t want anything taken from you,” he said slowly. “But I can’t lose you either.”

You stared at him. The words dropped in your stomach like stones. “So you’re all just going to… make this decision for me?”

Charles folded his hands. “We had to bring this up now, Y/N, before it’s too late to bring anything up at all.”

You left the room before anyone could say another word.

~~~

The door slammed behind you as soon as you entered the apartment. You didn’t speak. Not at first. You could feel Logan behind you, his presence like a shadow— heavy and waiting. You turned, arms crossed. He closed the door gently.

“You’re siding with them,” you accused, voice low and sharp. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Logan’s jaw flexed. “I am on your side. But your side is falling apart right in front of me!”

“They want to take everything, Logan!” Your voice rose. “Do you know what I am without books? Without stories? Without history and poetry and knowledge? I am nothing. I’m just— just—“

“Don’t you ever say that!” His voice cracked like thunder, sudden and explosive. “You think I feel in love with you because of the books?!”

You flinched.

He took a step forward, breath ragged. “I love you because you fight. Because you never give up. Because you teach and listen and you make me believe in quiet. But I’m watching that light go out in your eyes every damn day, and I can’t just stand her and letting it happen anymore!”

You shook your head, tears already slipping down your cheeks. “You don’t understand… Those books— they feel like home. Different than you do. I’ve lost everything else that makes me feel normal. Safe. Me. If you take that away—“

“If we don’t do something, we’ll lose you… I’ll lose you.”

“I already feel gone, Logan. I wake up scared. I touch a page and my head spins. I fake smiles, I pretend I’m not breaking, but you— you were the one thing I thought would fight for me. Not just keep me alive. Fight for me.”

His face broke. “You think I’m not? You think every time I lift you out of a slip, I’m not screaming inside? That I don’t wish I could carry the whole damn weight for you?”

“…I don’t want to live like this.”

“And I don’t want to live without you.”

Your lips parted, but you didn’t know what else to say. There was too much. Too much pain, too much fear, too much love. Too much loss.

Logan finally spoke, voice hoarse. “You can hate me if you need to. But if I have to burn every book in the world to keep you breathing— then so be it.”

You turned away, chest heaving. The apartment felt suddenly cold and quiet. Logan didn’t follow when you walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

~~~

The bedroom was dark. Not just lightless— hollow. You laid curled on your side, facing the wall. But it wasn’t quiet. From the other side of the door came the soft, steady rhythm of cardboard being unfolded. Of books being lifted, pages whispering goodbyes. 

Tape tearing. Stacking. Shuffling. Again and again and again.

You didn’t move— couldn’t. Each sound was its own betrayal. Not out of cruelty, but out of love. The worst kind. The kind that held the knife and said that this was for your own good. 

Logan didn’t say a word as he worked. But you could feel him— the grief in every careful motion, the way he lingered on each spine, probably reading the titles to himself like prayers. Maybe some of them were ones you had read aloud to him. Ones that lived in the space between your pillow and his.

A thump landed harder than the others. He swore under his breath. And then it was quiet for a second. You almost thought it was over— that he had stopped, that he was going to come in and tell you he changed his mind. But then came the next box. And you broke. Tears spilled silently. Your throat burned with the scream you wouldn’t let out. Your fists clenched tight in the sheets. He wasn’t doing this to punish you. He was doing this because he loved you. And somehow, that made it worse. You didn’t sleep at all that night, and neither did Logan.

~~~

Logan didn’t open the door. He didn’t step inside. His voice came low through the wood, a gruff murmur like he had rehearsed it a dozen times but still hated every word of it.

“I’m takin’ ‘em to the mansion,” Logan told you. “The books. I’ll be back soon.”

No response from you.

“I won’t be gone long, darlin’. Just thought… maybe you needed a minute.”

Silence again. He didn’t expect you to answer, so he didn’t wait long for one. He hated the thought of leaving you, but he knew you needed it.

You heard his footsteps retreat down the hall. Then the front door opened— creaked, paused, then shut gently behind him. And then you were alone. For a few seconds, you just stayed there. Still in bed, wrapping in the blanket like it could shield you from the truth. But the silence in the apartment now? It was different. It didn’t hum with stories anymore. It didn’t breathe. 

You got up slowly, legs aching with the weight of unspoken grief, and padded towards the hallway. Your hand hovered at the door to the library. You pushed it open. And the emptiness hit you like a punch to the ribs. The shelves were bare. Not a single book or note or scrap of paper. It was just… furniture now. Wood and walls and dust. Your knees buckled. You sat hard on the floor, staring up at the skeletal lines of the shelves like they were graves. 

There was no dramatic sob or scream. Just a sound from your throat that didn’t quite have a name. Because this wasn’t just the loss of books. It was the loss of safety. Of identity. Of you. And maybe— deep down— a part of you feared it was the first step towards losing Logan, too.

~~~

The sound of the front door opening was faint. So soft, you barely heard it. You didn’t move. You were still on the floor of the apartment’s library, knees tucked to your chest, head resting against one of the now-empty shelves. The wood was cool against your temple, but it didn’t anchor you the way it used to. Nothing did.

You heard the rustle of movement— keys, boots across hardwood, a shift in the air that told you Logan was back. He didn’t call out or say your name. But you knew the moment he saw you. The silence stretched a little longer. He didn’t ask if you were okay, he didn’t need to. Instead, Logan lowered himself onto the floor beside you, letting out a slow exhale as he settled. You didn’t look at him. He didn’t ask you to. For a while, there were no words at all. Just the two of you sitting side by side in a hollow room that used to be full of life, comfort, and you.

“I didn’t wanna take them from you,” he said finally, voice thick. “I just… I didn’t now what else to do.”

You closed your eyes. “I know,” you whispered. “But you still did.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He didn’t try to touch you. He didn’t reach out, or pull you into his arms. He just sat there, grieving with you. “I thought if I gave you a little space to hurt, it might not break you all the way… But I should’ve stayed.”

You turned to your face towards him, slowly. “You’re not the reason this hurts.”

“I just want to help you.”

His hand moved slightly. Just his pinky brushing against yours on the floor between you, like a promise. You let your pinky hook around his. And that was enough. For now.

~~~

You had fallen asleep in his arms, safe, and steady. The slow rise and fall of your breath had calmed Logan’s frayed edges just enough for him to finally drift off too. But sometime after midnight, it changed. You stirred, sitting up, confused. Your brow furrowed in the bark, and your eyes scanned the apartment like a stranger in unfamiliar territory.

Your voice was small, uneven. “…Where am I?”

Logan woke the second your weight shifted. “Hey,” he said softly, sitting up beside you. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe—“

You jerked back from him. Your breath caught. You stared at him with wide eyes, filled with confusion and fear. “…who are you?”

Logan froze. His throat worked, but no sound came out at first. He tried again, voice rougher than before. “It’s me, baby. It’s Logan.”

Your hands trembled as you pulled the blanket closer around yourself. “No— No, I was— I was looking for Logan. Where is he?”

His heart splintered. “I’m right here.” He slowly knelt in front of you. “I swear, I’m right here.”

You shook your head, eyes filling with tears. “You’re not him. I don’t— why I can’t I remember—“

You were starting to panic. You were hyperventilating. There was a knock at the bedroom door.

“Logan?” Jamie called.

Logan didn’t answer. He can’t take his eyes off you. And then Jamie stepped in, with Ororo, Jean, Hank, and Charles with him. Logan’s didn’t remember calling for them, but he didn’t care.

“Is she…” Jean began gently. 

But then she saw your face, the wild fear. And Logan, completely shattered, sitting on the floor like his soul had cracked open.

“She doesn’t know me,” he rasped. “She’s asking for me, and she doesn’t even know it’s me.”

Your sobs came fast and hard. “I don’t understand! I don’t remember anything! I don’t— I can’t—“

Logan got to his feet and backed away, like giving you space might somehow undo the damage. He was shaking. His fists clenched and unclenched. 

“Logan,” Charles said gently, rolling forward. “Let me—“

“No,” Logan snapped, too raw, too broken. “Don’t. Just… just help her.”

He turned before anyone could stop him and slammed the door. They all look after him, stunned. Then turn back to you. You were crying into Jean’s shoulder now, and she was whispering something you couldn’t hear through the dining in your ears. Charles watched you with a furrowed brow, hand resting against his temple like he was listening deeper. Ororo sighed, tears in her own eyes as she knelt beside you.

And outside, down the hall, Logan stared at the hole he punched in the wall. He didn’t cry. He just pressed his forehead beside it and whispered to no one.

“Come back to me.”

~~~

Jean’s arms were warm around you, steadying you as your body trembled from confusion and fear. You were overwhelmed, exhausted, and so desperately lost. 

Your voice cracked with every word as you clung tighter to the one thing that felt like it might make this all make sense. “I just want Logan… Please. He always keeps me safe.”

Jean exchanged a heartbroken glance with Ororo. The others stayed silent. You didn’t see them. You barely saw anything but the panic clouding your thoughts.

“Can you call him?” You pled again, eyes wide and desperate. “Please? He’s probably looking for me— he must be so worried. He doesn’t like it when I disappear. Just… just find him. He’ll come. He always comes.”

Jean’s mouth opened to answer you, but her voice caught in her throat.

“I promise,” Ororo answered for her, brushing a hand down your arm. “He’s closer than you think.”

You shook your head. “No, no one’s told me where he is. Why won’t anyone tell me where he is? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“He’s here, Y/N,” Charles spoke up, tone gentle. “He never left.”

Your eyes darted to the doorway as if expecting him to appear at the sound of his name. But when Logan stepped into the room— quietly, carefully— your body stiffened in Jean’s arms. Your eyes widen. Not with relief, but with fear.

“Who is that?” You whispered, shrinking slightly into Jean. “Why is he looking at me like that?”

Logan’s face crumbled, the pain of it hitting harder than any wound ever had. “It’s me,” he said, broken. “Darlin’, it’s Logan. I’m right here.”

You shook your head, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “No. No, Logan has darker eyes. He smells like— he feels like—“ You cut yourself off with a sob, unable to pull the information forward. “He’s not you. I want him. I want my Logan.”

Jean looked to Charles, who lowered his gaze. Logan didn’t move or speak again. He couldn’t. He just watched you come undone from the doorway. And when Hank gently urged him back out— not for you, but to spare him— Logan lets him. Because how do you stay in the same room with the love of your life, when they’re begging for you and don’t even know its’s you they’re asking for?

The door closed behind him with a soft click— but to Logan, it may as well have been a gunshot. His feet barely made it past the threshold before his knees gave out, collapsing against the wall just outside the room. He bowed his head, bracing his elbows agains the floor, trying to breathe, but the air wouldn’t come.

You had looked at him like he was a stranger, like he was something to be feared. You had begged for him, while staring straight through him.

A choked sound teared from his throat. He bit it back, pressed his forehead to the floor, and tried to shove the broken pieces of himself back into place. It was no use. He thought he was prepared. He thought nothing could hurt more than your slips— than watching you fade and forget the world around you. He was wrong. This was much worse.

“Logan.” Ororo’s voice was quiet, barely a whisper. 

She knelt beside him, hand hovering near his shoulder. She knew better than to touch him right away. He was trembling, muscles locked beneath skin that was trying to hold in the grief.

“She didn’t mean it,” she said softly.

“She did,” Logan’s voice was rough, wrecked. “She doesn’t know me anymore.”

“She will again.”

Logan lived his head. His eyes were bloodshot, jaw clenched like he was holding his entire soul behind his teeth. “And what about the next time? And the one after that? How many times does she have to look at me like I’m the fuckin’ enemy before she never comes back at all?”

Ororo’s heart shattered at the sound of him breaking. “She asked for you. She wanted you. Even if she didn’t recognize you, she knew who her heart needed.”

His chest caved in on a sob before he could stop it. His hands slammed down on the floor as if he could punch the pain out of it. “I’m losing her… and I can’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

Ororo shifted beside him and finally place a hand on his back. “Then don’t stop. Hold on. Even if she lets go. Hold on anyway.”

Logan’s breath hitched. His eyes burned and throat tightened. And in the hollow of the hallway, with only Ororo there to hear him, he wept. 

~~~

You woke slowly. There was no pain. No fog pressing at your thoughts. No ringing in your ears. The house was gone— replaced by stillness. You blinked at the ceiling. Then turn your head. Logan sat in the chair beside your bed, slouched forward, his hand cradling yours like it was made of glass. His eyes were closed— but not asleep. Just… worn thin. Even his strength had limits. And this, you, had pushed him to the edge of every one of them.

“Logan,” you rasped.

His eyes snapped open, bloodshot, tired, and wide.

You gave him a little smile. “Hi.”

He stared at you like he didn’t trust his own senses. “Hi?” He echoed, hoarse. “Are you…”

“I remember… Everything. I remember everything.”

You watched the words sink into him. You watched the tension ripple through his jaw, the way his eyes scanned your face, desperate for any sign you might be slipping again. But you weren’t. You were there. And then he was on his feet, arms around you in a heartbeat. He pulled you into his chest, gripping you so tightly it almost hurt, like if he let go you would vanish right through his fingers. You felt his breath hitch against your neck.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, over and over, his voice breaking. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t tell him not to cry or to let go. You just wrapped your arms around him too.

“I missed you… I— I didn’t know if I’d ever get you back.”

“I missed you too.”

~~~

It was a quiet afternoon— days later— when you woke to the sounds of something being dragged. Not the sharp, scraping kind of furniture over hardwood— this was deliberate. Thoughtful. Gentle. You padded down the hallway barefoot, still in one of Logan’s old flannels, and followed the sound to the old library room. You hadn’t gone in there since the morning the books had been removed. It felt hollow, like a shell of who you used to be. But now… it was different. 

The door was open. Logan was inside, crouched down, sweat darkening the back of his t-shirt as he finished unrolling a thick rug across the floor. Around him, the once-stark walls now held gentle lights— strung up like stars— casting warm pools of glow over the room. There was no paper, no shelves, no triggers. Just textures— soft cushions, a low couch piled with plush blankets, and a basket of sensory objects. A small speaker hummed quietly with the sound of rain in a forest. A set of curtains hung over the only window, the fabric sheer and calming. You stepped inside without thinking.

Logan looked up— caught mid-movement, clearly not expecting you. “I was gonna surprise you. Was hopin’ to finish before you got up.”

You blinked. “What is this?”

He stood slowly, wiping his palms on his jeans. “It’s… yours. A place that can’t hurt you. Somewhere you can go if you feel a slip coming on. Or if you just need to breathe.”

You didn’t answer. Your throat tightened.

He rubbed the back of his neck, almost sheepish. “I know it’s not the library you loved. I wish—“

“It’s perfect,” you whispered.

He paused and looked at you.

You were crying. Soft tears. No breakdown or panic. Just something fragile and grateful unspooling inside of you. “I don’t even had words.” You reached out and brushed your fingers over one of the cushions. “You made me a home inside a home.”

Logan stepped forward and rested his forehead against yours. “You are home… this is just a place you get to remember that.”

You stood there for a long time— no books, no danger, no pressure. Just peace. A quiet room. And the man who loved you enough to build a new kind of library— not with knowledge, but with safety.

~~~

For three weeks, the room worked. It wasn’t perfect— nothing ever was— but it helped. When your thoughts began to scatter, when the pull of a book or a voice or even a smell tugged at the frayed edges of your control, you could step inside that room, ground yourself, breathe. It was exhausting, holding yourself steady for so long. But you did it. And Logan noticed, every time. The way you clung to your boundaries like a life raft. The way your hands would tremble but you would smile anyway. The way you would close your eyes, breathe in through your nose, and choose to stay.

“You’re doin’ real good, darlin’,” he said one night as he held you close in that room. “So proud of you.”

That praise carried you longer than you expected… until the moment it didn’t.

~~~

It was quiet in the apartment. Rain tapped against the windows, and the safe room was lit with its soft string lights, casting golden warmth across the floor where you laid curled up with a weighted blanket. Logan had gone to the kitchen— just a few rooms away— to reheat dinner. He hadn’t even closed the door behind him. 

You felt it before it hit— a sudden shift in your own mind. Like something tore. A static crackle. Then silence. And then pain. It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t just a simple slip. This was much worse.

Your body locked. You fell sideways. Your arms jerked. Your jaw clenched. A choking noise escaped you. You felt the weight of the blanket like a trap, not a comfort. Then… your mind disappeared.

~~~

Logan heard the thump first. Not a small one. Not a stumble. A collapse. He dropped the plate— shattering it. He was running before the sound finished echoing.

“Sweetheart!”

He hit the doorframe, skidding into the room, eyes scanning— then freezing. You were on the floor. Convulsing. Eyes rolled back, foam at the corner of your mouth, body spasming agains the cushions like you were being torn apart from he inside out. Logan screamed.

“NO— NO— NO NO NO NO NO!”

He dropped to his knees beside you. Moving to into a safer position.

“Baby, I’m here, you’re okay— stay with me— just hold on—“

He fumbled for his phone, hands shaking as he hit the emergency line for the mansion.

“She’s seizing!” He snarled, putting it on speaker. “NOW. Send Jean. Send Hank.”

“She’s what?” Scott questioned. “Logan—“

“NOW!” He tossed the phone and cupped your face gently, even as your body fought itself. “I got you.” Tears spilled freely. “I got you, sweetheart, I got you— just please don’t go. Please don’t—“

He kept talking. Kept begging. Kept loving you through it even as his heart cracked open. The seizure finally slowed— but the stillness that followed was worse. You didn’t stir. You didn’t blink or breathe. Logan tore the blanket away, tilted you, and started CPR— desperate and frantic.

“C’mon, baby,” he choked out, pressing down on your ribs. “Come back. Come back!”

Logan was still doing compressions when Kurt appeared, sent by Charles. 

“She’s not breathing!” Logan cried. “She’s not— MOVE! DO SOMETHING!”

Kurt reached for you. “I’ve got her—“

“Be gentle. Don’t let her go.”

And then you vanished with Kurt. Leaving Logan kneeling on the ground as a sound tore through him. 

~~~

You slammed into the infirmary with Kurt.

Jean was already shouting. “Get the crash cart! Now!”

Hank burst through he far doors, gloves on. “Vitals?”

“Gone.” Jean climbed onto the table and straddled you, doing compressions. 

Kurt backed away, eyes wide and shining with tears. “She— she was seizing— Logan, he—“

“Go back and get him! Now, Kurt!”

Kurt disappeared and reappeared within the same second, a heartbroken Logan now with him. Logan was frozen in place, eyes locked on your slacked face as the alarms screamed and machines whirred to life. Then Scott, Ororo, Jamie, Charles— everyone— arrived. The hallway outside the glass-walled infirmary filled with people. None of them spoke. Ororo had a hand clapped over her mouth. Jamie was shaking. Charles’ expression was unreadable— but the pain in it was immense.

Inside, Logan hadn’t moved. He was still standing where he landed. Still watching. Not blinking.

Jean’s voice rang out over the crash. “Clear!”

A jolt. Your body arched. Then silence.

“Again. Clear!”

Another jolt. No response.

“C’mon. Don’t you do this. Don’t—“

“Jean,” Hank called gently. “Let me—“

“No! I’ve got her!”

Behind them, Logan finally moved. He pressed a hand against the glass. “You can’t do this to me, baby… you can’t,” he whispered, so soft that no one could hear.

Then finally, the monitor beeped. Once, twice, then steady. The team gasped in relief. Jean stumbled back, sobbing. Hank steadied her with one hand and checked over your vitals.

“She’s stable,” he murmured. “For now.”

The hallway still didn’t speak. Not until Logan turned around and leaned his head against the wall.

“She… she stopped breathing,” his voice was hoarse, completely broken.

Charles came into the room. “But she’s breathing now.”

Logan didn’t answer. He just closed his eyes and let the tears slip down his cheeks.

~~~

The room was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitor. You laid still beneath the blanket, breathing only because machines made sure you did. The only sound besides the machines was Hank’s movements as he adjusted the scanner. He had done this too many times to count. But this time, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. 

The team and Jamie waited along the edges of the room— students and other faculty members still outside in the hall. Logan sat by your bed, his calloused hand wrapped gently around yours. His thumb never stopped moving— brushing over your knuckles like you’d feel it, like it would guide you home. It always had before. But this time, you hadn’t twitched. Not even once.  

The scan beeped softly as the readout loaded. Hank’s eyes scanned it— once, then again, slower. His shoulders tensed.

Jean noticed it first. “Hank?”

Hank exhaled, and it came out more like a breath that had been held too long. He turned to face the room— Charles, Jean, Ororo, Scott, Jamie… Logan. They were all watching. He removed his gloves slowly.

“Her neural degradation has accelerated,” Hank explained carefully. “Dramatically. She’s… fading. The cognitive centers of her brain are losing coherence. Like parts of her are collapsing in on themselves.”

Ororo swallowed hard. “How long does she have?”

“I don’t know. She might never wake up.”

A silence followed. Not shock— not really. They had all seen the signed. But hearing it out loud, was something else entirely.

Hank turned to Logan. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Logan didn’t move. Just stared straight ahead, thumb still brushing your hand. Then it stopped. His head dropped. And his grip tightened like he was holding you to stop himself from drowning.

“No,” he rasped, so quiet at first.

“Logan—“ Jean started, softly.

“No!” He snapped, standing so fast the chair scraped behind him. His voice cracked open with he kind of grief that didn’t care who was watching. “She fought— every goddamn day— she fought and bled and crawled her way back to us again and again and now—“ his chest heaved, “now she’s just not gonna wake up? That’s it?”

No one said anything. Because there was nothing to say.

He turned on Hank, wild-eyed. “Fix it.”

“I can’t—“

“Fix it!” Logan shouted, voice breaking like something inside him finally snapped.

Ororo stepped forward carefully. “Logan—“

“DON’T FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!”

You didn’t move or flinch or stir at all. He looked down at you like his heart was being carved out of his chest.

“I wasn’t enough,” he whispered. “I wasn’t enough to keep you here.”

“Logan,” Charles rolled forward. “You have been her anchor. Her strength.”

Logan turned away. His shoulders curled in like he had been gutted. And then he sank back into the chair beside your bed and cradled your hand in both of his, pressing it to his forehead.

“Come back,” he begged, quietly. “Please come back.”

The team gave him space after that— silent, heavy-hearted, slipping from the room one by one. Only Charles remained at the door, watching as Logan whispered to you like a prayer. And in the harsh fluorescent quiet of the infirmary, time stood still.

~~~

The sun rose without warmth. You were still on the bed, machines breathing for you. Logan hadn’t left your side. Not to eat. Not to sleep. Noe one had really left the infirmary since Hank’s warning. They took turns sitting nearby. They spoke in whispers. Some cried whenever they thought Logan couldn’t hear. Jamie had fallen asleep in a chair, head on his knees. Ororo sat quietly, her hand occasionally brushing your ankle through the blanket. Scott paced sometimes. Jean read quietly. Hank stood near the monitors, constantly checking them. Charles mediated, brow drawn. 

But Logan didn’t move. His hand hadn’t left yours. He whispered stories. Apologies. Promises. All in the hush of the room. And then, you convulsed. It started with a twitch. Barely visible. But Logan’s instincts were instant.

“Hank,” Logan’s voice was sharp. “She’s—“

Then it happened. Your body jerked violently, arching against the restraints meant to keep you safe. The machines screamed in alarm. Jean and Hank were already moving.

“Seizure— massive electrical spike,” Hank barked. “It’s worse than the last one— far worse.”

“Her brain—“ Jean’s voice broke. “It’s collapsing— Logan, no!”

Logan tried to hold you. Tried to ground you. But your body flailed like something deep inside was trying to flee. And then— you stilled. Flatlined. And everything stopped. Everyone froze. And Logan— he started at the screen like he didn’t understand.

“No…” he whispered. “No. No, no— no.”

Jean moved to the monitor. Hank was already at your side, performing CPR. Again and again. The sound of it was horrible.

“Come back,” Logan whispered. “Come back to me. Please— Please!”

Ororo cried out softly. Jamie’s hands were over his mouth. Charles rolled forward, his eyes glassy.

“Don’t do this,” Logan begged. “You promised me. You said we would see the lights again. You— you said—“

The monitor didn’t change. Jean and Hank both stopped moving after a shared look. Ororo sobbed. Jamie slid out of his chair and curled into himself on the floor. Logan reached out— gently— and brushed your face. And then he crumbled. His forehead dropped to yours, his hands shaking as he gripped your face.

“I can’t— I can’t do this without you.”

No one told him to move or to stop. He held you like you were still breathing. Like you were still in there somewhere. But you weren’t. You were gone. 

~~~

Hours later…

The infirmary lights were dimmer now, but the grief inside the room burned sharp. Outside the room, the team had gathered. Ororo, arms folded tight across her chest, eyes red. Scott and Jean held onto each other for support. Jamie sat on the ground, back against the wall, staring at the floor. Hank looked over your charts on his table— trying to find something he missed. Charles leaned forward in his chair, fingers tented near his mouth, gaze distant.

Inside the room, Logan hadn’t moved. He was curled into you, arms around your waist, forehead pressed to your chest, his shoulders occasionally shaking with silent sobs. Every few minutes, he whispered something. Your name. A memory. A plea.

“We can’t leave her like that,” Hank finally said quietly. “It’s… It’s not right.”

“He’ll never let go,” Scott said. “Not unless someone makes him.”

“No one makes Logan do anything,” muttered Ororo.

Charles let out a long breath. “Jean?”

Jean hesitated. “If I do it… it has to be now. Before he starts spiraling deeper. Before he loses what control he has left.” She stepped inside the room alone.

Logan didn’t look up.

“Logan,” she called.

He didn’t respond. His hand was stroking your face, still hoping some warmth would return. That maybe this was just another slip. That maybe you could come back, just like all the other times.

“Please. Let us… Let us take her.”

“No,” his voice was flat and broken. “She’s gonna wake up.”

“Logan—“

“Don’t touch her, Jean.” He finally turned, and the look in his eyes nearly brought her to her knees. Raw grief, madness, and desperation.

Jean took a breath. “I’m sorry.” Then her eyes glowed red.

Logan snarled— actually snarled— as her telepathy wrapped around him. He shoved back instinctively, claws half-sprung, but Jean was already in his head. Not attacking— just holding.

“Let go, Logan. You don’t have to stop loving her. Just… let us take care of her now.”

“No—“ he choked, body twisting in agony. “Please— please don’t— don’t take her away from me.”

And then, he slumped forward. Jean had pressed deep enough to force unconsciousness, her heart breaking even more as she did so. Ororo rushed in with a gurney, followed by Hank and Scott. Together, they gently lifted you from the bed. Your body limp and cold. Logan laid collapsed beside the bed, crumpled like a man broken beyond repair. Jamie stepped forward to grab a blanket, reverently covering you.

~~~

It was the sound of nothing that woke him. No heartbeat beside his. No hand curled in his shirt. No quiet hum of your breathing, rhythmic and steady. Just silence. Logan’s eyes opened slowly. For a moment, he didn’t move or think. Then he reached across the bed on instinct, expecting warmth. His hand met cold sheets and his breath caught. The fog of unconsciousness faded all at once. 

The seizure. You. Gone.

He sat up with a lurch, eyes scanning the room for you. “No.”

He stumbled out of bed like something was chasing him, breath growing more ragged with every step and he made his way into the hallway. It was dark, maybe just past sunset, and the mansion was quiet. Too quiet. He found his way back to the infirmary room. Only to find it empty. No bed, no machines, no trace. They had taken you.

“No,” he growled, low and broken. He spun around, fists clenched at his sides, eyes wild. His claws twitched in and out, a nervous tremor he didn’t realize he was doing. “Where is she? Where the hell is she? WHERE IS SHE?!”

“Logan,” Charles sat in the doorway, quiet and composed. His eyes were soft, but resolute.

“Don’t,” Logan snapped, voice raw.

“We had to. You weren’t letting go.”

“I didn’t need to, she was gonna come back!”

“No. She wasn’t.”

Logan turned, slamming a fist into the wall. “She was all I had, Charles. She was it for me.”

“I know.”

Silence stretched between them, weighted and endless.

“She didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Logan whispered. “She didn’t… she didn’t get to say she loved me one more time… I didn’t get to tell her how much I love her… She fought so hard. She gave everything she had— and I wasn’t even holding her when she left.”

“You were with her through everything. She knew. She loved you. That’s what matters.”

Logan turned away, jaw trembling. Then he whispered, “I don’t know how to be in this world without her.”

“You don’t have to know yet. Just don’t stop breathing.”

And with that, Logan sank to the floor of the empty room, head in his hands. The emptiness around him mired the hollowness in his chest. And still— despite everything— he stayed there. Just in case you might walk through the door.

next: The Epilogue >

[wsancho]

YESSSS!! Let the juices flow! 👀

I don't think Sabin's reaction is out of character, but the heat of the moment is missable. He just finished fighting off someone who was close to him and was trying to kill him. Normalcy is jarring right after you've been in a setting where your survival is threatened. It takes time, space and mindfulness to readjust (soldiers get PTSD because they don't get none of that. I heard that the Roman Empire had a ritual of several days specifically meant to bring their soldiers back from "combat mode" before sending them home. Makes sense). This moment with Vargas is treated as if Sabin just stepped on a bug, but I take it as one of those things where all the emotional charge get lost due to lack of expressions and dialogue. It also makes it make sense when he overreacts with Ultros. I don't like his reaction but I see where it comes from.

Also I doubt the brothers have an inner narrative where the other is casting judgment (condemnation). But when you love someone to death and at the same time you witness them doing things that you utterly disagree with; you'll give them tough love, not treats or kudos (Sabin saying that he feared Figaro turning into a puppet state isn't exactly praising Edgar's work). I think of Sabin's reaction to seeing Edgar as that of a parent who sees their kid choosing a dangerous career path, as in "I love you and let you make your own decision, but as long as you go down this path I don't wanna hear a fucking thing about it". He asks Edgar what he's doing in Mount Kolts, but may be anticipating a very unsatisfying answer.

They let the other be his own self and they still trust each other blindly because at the core it's the same pure heart that drives both. That unconditional love is always there, untouched. But they take opposite extremes about how to solve the problem at hand, which undeniably causes conflict, but it doesn't break them apart. ❤️😤

I have theories about the unknowns you mentioned 🫡

The twins' shared flashback ends with the coin toss. There are some logistics afterwards that are never shown (because the flashback is about the twins' bond, not about logistics), mainly:

Sabin leaving. I think he leaves immediately, considering that he doesn't wanna deal with the people in the castle. Were there obstacles for him leaving? Not great obstacles, in my opinion. I think Edgar telling the priestess to leave them alone (and her understanding it as "get everyone to leave us alone") granted them enough privacy for Sabin to silently get out and people just taking it as "he's being emotional, he needs some time alone and he'll come back to his senses in the morning". I know of kids "escaping home" only to come back hours later because they didn't figure out the next step. 🫤

Revealing the decision to the other politicians. Edgar would tell them only after Sabin was out of reach. After this reveal it could get difficult for Sabin to make any move. There's the semi-canon Figaroan belief that twin monarchs are a good omen so the commoners, more than anyone else, would object to having only one twin ruling. I'm thinking that the politicians have their preference too, either for the one who behaves more like them (Edgar), or for the one who seems more simple-minded and easy to puppeteer (Sabin).

King's funeral. By Sabin's reaction of denial, I get that he didn't see his dad's corpse (and wouldn't wanna see it). If the show Six Feet Under taught me anything, it's that funerals are for the living, to give them closure and facilitate detachment. Sabin not taking part in the funerary rituals could contribute to this boy not being over his daddy issues ten years and lots of meditation later.

Edgar's coronation. Again, I don't see Sabin sticking around for this. At this point it's settled, whether Figaro likes it or not, there's only one heir, and it's much easier to get them to accept this if there's no other choice available. There's a fanfic that brushes on some Figaroan rumors of Edgar exiling Sabin to take the throne for himself. Awfully unfair and typical in these circumstances. 😞👌🏼

Sabin getting Duncan to take him in. In the flashback Sabin is just finding out about his dad and then that leads to him wanting to leave the place and expecting Edgar to come along:

Seems that Sabin wanted to be with his brother, nothing more. And he didn't realize Edgar had been preparing for his dad's passing. Sabin wasn't planning to go to Duncan's and bring Edgar along, he wasn't planning for his dad to get murdered and run away to train to avenge dad's death, or train to fight the Empire just because. My take is that in this moment he felt more pressured than ever and considered that this was the perfect moment to go for what they really wanted. I think Sabin's "plan" goes something like this:

Phase 1: Collect underpants. Escape.

Phase 2: ❓

Phase 3: Profit. Happiness.

He proposes the same thing that these fools did (probably would get the exact same result):

If you haven't seen this, it's a great film. It sucks.

There may have been a vague idea of that idyllic life, but not a real roadmap: spending most time in nature, answering to no one, doing only the the things they're passionate about; and since Gestahl started some shit, maybe one fateful day they'd be going to knock on Gestahl's door to kick his ass or something. Good stuff! Good wishful thinking stuff. 🥲

Wishful thinking, or rather the ability to take the mind outside the boundaries of linear thinking and logic is what I believe allowed Sabin to become mind-blowingly skilled and off-the-charts strong. He did not follow the predictable trajectory he was on (as a prince and as a sickly child), and once off the beaten path, anything was possible. This is one of Sabin's most important strengths, it contrasts Edgar's mind-blowingly strategic thinking and off-the-charts foresight. But in order to succeed they still dip their feet in the other's field: Edgar is not only doing diplomacy, he's secretly arming his nation. Sabin didn't go on a 10-year vacation, he devotes himself to a real life project after leaving the castle. I think Sabin only realizes the need to do something about the Empire after cooling down, away from the castle drama, dwelling in the loss of his family.

Sabin knows what Edgar is trying to do. He knows Edgar knows what's right and fair and just. Both boys think they know where the other's approach is lacking as they lack the ability to fully grasp what the other can achieve. But they do have enough respect to let the other do his thing while in disagreement.

Meeting again and being in agreement was unexpected but not a coincidence. Each went and perfected himself without the other's influence only to come back together in a moment when Edgar took an uncharacteristically dangerous stance while Sabin had been uncharacteristically subduing his eagerness in favor of his martial arts roadmap and to let Edgar's strategy play out. As all paths lead to Rome, whatever these boys do leads them to each other because the opposite life choices are external things, but on the inside, they're one and the same. ❤️‍🔥

And in the end they get to live how they want to; not for a season or a few years, but for the rest of their lives. Sabin's idyllic life (which both twins desire) can only be secured after both decide to play the long game. Edgar may have known this pretty early, but it'd take Sabin some time to see the full picture. 💪🏼👑

Figaro Twins’ Coulda, Woulda, Shouldas

On a previous post I wondered if the twins could have maintained communication during their 10-year separation. My guess is that they didn’t, given that the High Priestess doesn’t know what Sabin’s been up to; Edgar doesn’t seem to know either, and he’s surprised to find out where he’s been living and who he’s been hanging out with.

But Sabin’s initial reaction to seeing Edgar felt off. Too casual and carefree for someone who sees his beloved big brother for the first time in a decade. Even if they had maintained communication, this still feels off, impersonal and unaffected.

The brothers shoulda hugged and celebrated seeing each other but they didn’t. With the characters being who they are and without putting blame on the devs, how could this make sense for these boys? Like, WHY WOULDN’T THEY HUG, GODDAMNIT?! 😖🥺

When Sabin first saw Gerad he didn’t react much either. We can blame it on the good ol’ “platform limitations” and “time restrictions”, but I like to take canon as is and figure out how it could work in service of my personal, self-indulgent narrative that makes me happy 🧐

So my theory is that, as much as Sabin looks up to Edgar emotionally and intellectually, he doesn’t really expect Edgar’s diplomatic approach to work.

Before leaving Figaro, Sabin wanted to avenge his dad, but his rage completely deflates when Edgar puts the focus on politics, like everyone else in the castle. Sabin may have convinced himself that he’d have to do this alone, even against Edgar’s established diplomacy. Not only does Sabin know Figaro’s situation before Kefka’s attack, he knows of the Returners hideout (some gamers interpret this as “the Returners not being great at hiding”, but one can know, for example, that Edward Snowden is in Russia or that Osama Bin Laden was in Afghanistan; but finding them requires slightly more knowledge than that. Sabin knows exactly where the Returners hide). I don’t think he had direct contact with them, but seems he had been actively looking for the information, not just learning whatever came his way.

Sabin loves his big brother and wouldn’t go against him, which is why he waited for diplomatic efforts to fall apart, as they did. But until then, Edgar’s decisions are very much the same of those who let his father perish. Sabin might have mixed feelings about Edgar because they had been on opposite ideological sides (imagine if Edgar had replied “We're climbing this mountain to meet up with my guest Kefka and escort him to the castle” Yuck! 😒).

Edgar had been reacting a little more to hearing about Sabin and to seeing him again, but I believe he prevents himself from showing too much and tries to keep his cool at all times. Also, after seeing so little reaction from Sabin, he might have gotten the impression that Sabin isn’t as comfortable with him as he used to be, so Edgar keeps his distance and accepts whatever Sabin chooses to express; after all, he set Sabin free in all possible ways. He’s not conflicted about Sabin and is not trying to maintain the distance, he’s just respectfully passive.

Of course Sabin trusts Edgar’s intentions. I think he’s having a bit of “emotional jet lag” (like he just learned that his surrogate dad got murdered by his surrogate brother and then tried to kill him too, or something 🤔), but as soon as Edgar tells him that diplomacy went to shit and they’re getting ready to strike back, Sabin is onboard, driven and even excited; if there were any doubts, all dispel once he finds himself on the same team as his bro.

Then there’s the part where Sabin jumps into the river to fight Ultros. It rubs me the wrong way that he pushes Edgar aside and jumps anyway. Sabin is not listening to reason and he’s not really a team player here. He’s trying to protect Terra from Ultros, but it’s very much an overreaction and I think it has to do with his need to prove himself and his disfavor for Edgar’s more passive methods (and with Sabin not having been part of a team ever before).

Sabin coulda listened and stay put, but I think his detour helps build his character. Sure, he meets and brings along new people and new information about what’s going on in the world, and all those are very important things for the plot; but I see a subtle mellowing down of his temper. He’s separated from the group and can’t help to constantly wonder if his brother is safe (the English translation makes it about the group, but in the original he’s worried about Edgar). I think he knows he kinda fucked up. Things worked out fine, but he seems less impulsive afterwards and more willing to listen.

Knowing that Edgar cares and worries about Sabin as much as he always did, I can see why it’s a little jarring when Edgar doesn’t try to save him after the encounter with Ultros, especially because recently the FF6 Rom Hack, Divergent Paths, was brought to my attention (thanks @monk-of-figaro ❤️) and it had me thinking whether Edgar woulda jumped in like “any sane brother would”, to quote the mod. And well… I don’t think Edgar is a “sane brother”. He’s a righteous king and there’s nothing sane about that 🤷🏻‍♀️

Seeing Sabin float away hurts my feelings way more than the devs intended to, and I’m sure Edgar would fear for his little bro, like he probably feared for him for an entire decade (Sabin was a sickly and overly emotional teenager leaving home for the first time to go who knows where). But if there’s one thing that distinguishes Edgar’s way of ruling is that he makes the hard choices:

Observes his father’s poor health knowing that he’ll soon die an untimely and unnatural death. Edgar makes the hard choice of seeing his own powerlessness for what it is and accepting that all he can do is witness his dad’s decay. Someone sane would have been in denial of this and focused on finding the culprit and avenging his father. Instead, he went through the same emotional turmoil as Sabin, but quietly, alone, and in the course of weeks or months as his father’s death came closer. And this is how Figaro was spared from becoming another Doma.

Witnesses Sabin’s meltdown after the king’s death and makes the hard choice of giving him the freedom to remove himself from the toxic environment. Someone sane would have escaped with him or tried to talk him into staying, and Sabin would have probably agreed to it if Edgar guilt-tripped him or simply told him “I want you by my side”. But Edgar wouldn’t sway Sabin in any way, no matter how badly he wanted him around. Sabin was too attached to Edgar and could never define his individuality if he kept doing whatever Edgar did or told him to do.

And when Sabin gets his ass beat by Ultros and is at risk of getting drowned or found by the Empire and killed, Edgar chooses to stick with the program. A sane brother would have gone after him, but the mission was to keep Banon alive and getting him to Narshe for negotiations. It’s not only “game over” because you fail the minigame, it’s game over because Edgar has been a double agent for a decade and the resistance can’t fully trust him like they do Banon. For the rebels to be on his side, Edgar depends on having Banon’s trust (this isn’t stated anywhere, but it’s only logical). Terra was not a Returner then, she was still doubtful and Edgar never wanted to force his ideas on her (like Banon), so leaving this to her was not an option either. Losing Banon is losing all chances of saving Figaro, while losing Sabin would cause Edgar to lose his mind, an entire nation would still survive. The right choice is the hardest of choices and Edgar’s judgment is on point; as it has been since his adolescence.

Hell, even when Edgar proposes his idea to Banon and gets rejected, it happens to be exactly what they end up doing (in the English translation he proposes “to make magical weapons” but in the original he talks only about “acquiring magic of their own”). Who knows what Banon’s plan was before meeting Terra. After meeting her, I believe his plan goes something like this:

Phase 1: Collect underpants. Talk to Espers.

Phase 2: ❓

Phase 3: Profit. Peace.

Anyway, I’ve always wanted to see more interaction between the FF6 cast (still do 🥲). Fanworks do a great job filling in the blanks, as I’m sure the devs intended, but self-indulgence is a tradeoff that prevents from discovering character traits that are easy to overlook and can be difficult to make sense of, especially for characters who operate in a state of maturity or conditioning or emotional strain that is difficult for us to access or even begin to understand.

I love that Sabin is such a lively, honest and self-motivated dude, that he grows and learns exclusively by doing. He does, he fucks up, he learns. And he laughs out loud while at it 😁❤️ Ultimately that’s how true wisdom is acquired, only by experience (there’s no such thing as acquiring wisdom from others’ experiences, you only remember the wisdom your soul already possesses by learning about how others articulate and express theirs).

On the other extreme it’s heartbreaking that Edgar is so freaking talented that he can see where the system fails, and having both talent and power, it’s up to him and him alone to come up with real solutions. No other character in this entire cast could pull off any of this shit as smoothly. To paraphrase La Femme Nikita: “[...] because when you lead, we survive.” And Edgar knows this 😕

This is unfathomable for most of us. I’m nobody, so I get to sit on my ass and talk about what the politicians should do, and what the sports coaches should do, and what the movie directors should do. I also get to make mistakes and fuck up my health and my finances and my career and my relationships and my home, but no one else’s. And because I’ve got this luxury it’s easy for me to say what would have been. If the FF6 devs did things my way it would have been not the masterpiece that it is. Heartbreaking as it is, it tells the stories of these (fictional) people organically and faithfully.

[valtsv]

the truly insane thing is that i'm still in trauma therapy for internet drama that happened to me 4 years ago. like my life is objectively better in every way and i've more than proven myself capable of weathering some horrific shit and coming out stronger, but what ultimately boils down to an abusive "friendship" on their part and a few immature and fear-motivated decisions on mine still casts the world's longest darkest shadow of public humiliation.

[sakuravalenp]

Don't eat anything else - Part 3 - DP X DC

Previous part

Next part

Masterpost

Sam had somehow fallen asleep after hours of rolling in her bed, so of course, when her phone started ringing, she was just about ready to send the thing flying across the room. She covered her ears with her pillow, hoping the thing would shut up soon enough, and cursed her past self for leaving the phone in her desk instead of plugging it to the socket that was just behind her bed. She could have already shut the thing off then, but no, she’ll have to get out of bed to do it. She was going to maul whoever decided it was a good idea to call in the middle of the night.

With a resigned huff, she got out of bed and went to the desk, stumbling over the chair because of course she hadn’t pushed it back into the space the desk left for it, and snatched the phone roughly, pulling the charger and making her pencil case fall off the desk. The clattering sounds let her know she had also left that open. She groans, and squints at her phone screen, her eyes complaining at the sudden light, she takes a look at the insistent caller: Tucker. She answers while letting herself fall into the chair.

“Tucker, it’s like two am. You better be dying, or I swear to the ancients I’m throwing your beloved PDA into a natural portal to never be seen again!”

“Check the Phantom chat.” Sam blinked. She was expecting some sort of dramatic response. Then her mind caught up to what her friend had just asked.

“Did Danny text anything!?” The call was already being placed on speaker as she took her phone off her ear and started looking for their chat server.

“You’ll have to check yourself, it’s a full text wall, I’ve just read like- the first paragraph. Just- check it out and call me back when you’ve read it all.”

Sam frowned at the beep of the call being ended. She had never hated so much that their server took so long to load. She understood why; a hidden server that went through the infinite realms? Tucker was a genius for creating it. Still, in times like this the waiting was excruciating.

Danny didn’t tell them anything about his life with Vlad. She would say it screamed red flags, but it was Vlad. The moment the man had gotten custody of Danny all the fire alarms were going off in Sam’s head, and they hadn’t stopped since.

They tried not to push much at the start. The Fentons and Jazz’s death was too fresh, so they just checked in, asking how things were going, trying not to prod. But weeks turned to months, and they hadn’t been able to see Danny, and he was not telling them anything.

They had been keeping tabs of what they could get. Danny checked in at least once a day, until he didn’t. There would be days without response, and then Danny would check in again with some vague excuse. When that became common enough, Danny stopped making up excuses and just directly checking in without explaining the absence.

His texts were useless to understand his situation, other than he was well enough to text them, so their next focus was his public appearance. There weren’t a lot of those, but they would be happy with any scraps they could get. 

Vlad had taken Danny to more than a couple of galas and some political events, proudly flaunting his heir, and yet, there were barely any photos of Danny at said events. It was up in the air whether it was due to Vlad avoiding the pictures getting out or due to how difficult it was to get a clear photo of Danny.

Nevertheless, the few pictures they did get weren’t great. He looked emaciated, lost so much weight, lost any brightness in his eyes. Still, Sam had almost cried from relief the first time they got a picture. The mind can be cruel when there's nothing to hold it back, and Sam had about a thousand terrible thoughts of what Vlad could be doing to Danny. At least he was in one piece. 

Her phone vibrated, letting her know the server had finally loaded. There was a bubble beside the Phantom group chat letting her know there were new texts. She pressed on the group chat and was indeed greeted by a wall of text. She scrolled back to find the beginning.

Hey guys, you’ll probably won’t see this until tomorrow but I needed to write this right away before I started doubting. Not that that’s really a choice at this point, not when the Waynes already left with those notes.

The Waynes? Oh, yeah, Danny had mentioned Vlad had invited them to dinner once. First visitors they would be getting. Sam had idly wondered if she would have gotten a chance to see Danny if her parents were more influential. She had never wished for her parents to be richer before. 

So anyway, the Waynes visiting kind of changed things here a bit. I may not have been really honest about how things were going here with Vlad. Though, you probably already knew that, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can tell you guys. I just don’t think I can get myself to tell you, and I’m so sorry, because you’re always there and deserve the truth, but I can’t. So, let’s just leave as things hadn’t been great, and Vlad was more of a monster than we ever thought he could be. 

Sam didn’t like that, it was terribly vague. What had Vlad done to Danny that he didn’t feel he could tell them? Sure they had been dealing with Danny’s silence, but now he was straight up telling them he couldn’t get himself to talk about it. The fact that he couldn’t even explain what Vlad had done meant it was probably worse than what she imagined.

They’d faced their fair share of horrors over the years while combating the rogues, and there had never been a problem verbalizing it. Something horrible had happened. Sam was going to kill Vlad. She didn’t care what the full story was, if it was bad enough that Danny actively refused to tell them, it was bad enough to revoke Vlad’s right to existence. 

The thing is, I can’t keep this up. The Wayne’s came in, and Vlad's plans for dinner made me realize I couldn’t let this keep going. I managed to sneak a note to Timothy Drake-Wayne. Everyone knows the Waynes have connections to the Justice league.

Sam frowned. The Justice League had been shining for their absence from everything involving Amity. That absence still burned like acid. They’d begged for help. Pleaded. Amity had become a warzone more than once, and no one had come. Would they really show up just because the Waynes got involved?

I know they hadn’t been answering our calls, but now it affected the Waynes. Again, I can’t explain how it affected them, but I’m pretty sure the Waynes will make sure the Justice League gets involved. I had to tell them that Vlad isn’t human. It would only end in an apocalypse if they came looking for Vlad without being prepared. They’ll look for you guys. I told them you had the means to combat him. 

Oh shit. Was she really meeting with the Justice League? In friendly terms? After all the ignored calls, Sam had swore it would be on sight if she ever met the assholes. And if they really showed up just because the Waynes were the ones to call, Sam wasn’t sure if she could keep it civil.

I didn’t reveal myself to the Waynes, I don’t know what the Justice League stand on ghosts is, all this is already a big risk, the GIW are bad enough on their own, there’s no way we would survive the Justice League hunting us, but Vlad needs to be stopped. I need you guys to give them what they need to not be possessed, and the ectoguns that I modified, maybe an ectoshield. Nothing more, they have a good history with non-humans, but I don’t know if we can trust them to not start a hunting campaign after Vlad. Try making it clear that this is a Vlad problem, not a ghost problem. I’m sorry I’m leaving everything to you guys, I can’t do anything from this side.

Her breath trembled. If the Waynes were really able to convince the Justice league to finally intervene, they might have days. She and Tucker needed to prep everything.

Ghost attacks had become rare since the portal was destroyed, but sometimes ghosts still came through naturally forming ones. There couldn’t be a ghost attack while the Justice League was there. Not when they needed to convince them that Vlad was the exception, not the rule.

They needed to get the gear and figure out how to lie to the Justice League convincingly enough that they wouldn’t turn every ghost into collateral damage.

Because Vlad might be the monster. But the League could still be the executioners.

Still, despite all the anxiety running through her veins, Sam felt hopeful. Danny had reached for help, after months of silence he had finally reached for help, and for once there seemed to be a chance they'd see Danny again. 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

They couldn’t continue reading the paper right away. There was no way to do it. Cass was more sensitive to people's deaths than anyone else in her family, and Bruce had focused on supporting her so he wouldn’t have to think about what he had just eaten. He had helped Cass to the bathroom like he hadn’t vomited as well. Tim had mumbled something about needing a shower, a really long shower, and left. Jason had forgotten the pretender had been bathed in that cursed soup.

He did think about taking the paper and finishing reading it himself, but green edged his vision, rage bursting under the skin, and he needed an outlet, which he didn’t have here. The punch he had thrown onto the wall had already left a mark, and this was a house they rented as Waynes, he couldn’t just trash it all.

He had worked through some breathing exercises Dick had introduced to him. He’ll never tell Dick, but they did work somewhat. It wasn’t really a surprise, Jason knew Dick had anger issues. The bastard seemed like the perfect young adult holding it together these days, but Jason was there for his teenage rebellion, and that was supposedly an improvement from how he had been as Robin. So of course the breathing exercises helped, but it wasn’t enough.

He felt like giving the wall another punch from the frustration, but he had been trying to “redirect his anger” in less violent ways lately, and this was the kind of situation where it would be better to clear his head instead of exploding. He could save the explosion for when they had that reprobate on their hands. 

His phone was pinging and Jason knew it was probably the rest of the family asking for an update. The sudden silence probably got them worried the supposed poison had been something serious, and as the only one in commission at the moment, he should be the one reporting, but he was pretty sure he would crack his phone if he used it right then. His helmet took his attention where it resided on the desk, and he made a decision.

You’re not supposed to ride while you're angry, that’s how accidents happen, but that didn’t apply to people like him. Red Hood spent most of the night in his motorcycle while absolutely furious; they knew how to ride without becoming a public safety issue. 

He grabbed his helmet and screamed before putting it on. “You better don’t read the damn note before I’m back!” And then he was on the road once again. 

He rode around the small city, making the same circle over and over again at maximum speed. Harsh changes in direction that made the adrenaline pump in his veins. It was a good outlet. At some point the green receded enough for him to think clearer. He lowered the speed a bit, and connected his helmet to the comms. The questioning screams from everyone on comms came instantly.

“Shut the fuck up. I can’t understand a single thing you are saying.” As expected, that didn’t have any effect, but a minute later the line went dead silent. Babs must have muted everyone's lines. 

“Hood, what’s the situation? Did the antidote work without problem?” Babs asked.

Jason almost laughed. Antidote. They wished it had just been some stupid poison. “It wasn’t poison, or drugs, Batman and Orphan are… physically fine.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jason could hear the crackle of a line joining the comms again. “What does that mean Todd?” Damian finally asked.

Jason could feel the rage try to creep back at the thought of what really was in the food, he pushed it back. He didn’t want to really talk about what really was in the food. Another crackle. “Little wing? What was in the food?” 

Jason sighed. Why should he be the only one in commission to report back? No, he was glad to not have been anywhere close to that hideous concoction that didn’t have a right to be called food. He turned the speed back up.

“Apparently, Vlad Masters is a cannibal. One in the habit of sharing his taste with others.” The silence in the other line was about what he expected, so was the new explosion of voices that came afterward. 

Yeah, no. Report given. They could deal with the news themselves. Jason disconnected from comms and started riding back to the house. Checking the time on the edge of his helmet screen, he saw he had been riding for quite some time. How has two hours already passed? 

He left the motorcycle in the garage. There was no one there, so Jason wandered inside. He found Tim was sitting on the sofa with his laptop in the living room, the note folded beside him. Bruce sat on a chair beside him still looking pained. Jason talked from the door.

“Did you actually wait for me?”

Tim shrugged and without taking his eye off. “Figured it would be better to read once we were all here.”

“Where’s Cass?” He asked, walking to the opposite side of the couch.

“She asked to be filled in later.” Bruce answered. “It’s better we read the rest of the note already. I can’t imagine what else Danny would like us to know.”

Tim sighed, like someone had asked him to be the one to read the letter instead of him being the one to take it upon himself. He took the note, unfolding it again, and Jason could see he was making an effort to ignore the first line.

“I don’t know who the victims are, or where Vlad gets them, but they’re recently deceased. So somewhere there must be people disappearing constantly. It may not be the same place all the time, or it may not even be the same city. Vlad isn’t human.”

“Fucking great. Just what we were missing. What is it this time? A vampire? He definitely has the aesthetic going for him.” The pretender glared at him for the interruption, but Jason thinks the situation fully justifies his reaction.

Bruce sighed. “Language. Please, go on, Tim.”

“He’s a kind of ghost.” Tim raised an eyebrow but continued reading. “I know it may be hard to believe for outsiders, but ghosts are pretty much a common occurrence in Amity Park.”

“I thought that was just a tourist trap.” Jason commented, which gained him another glare from Tim. Jason didn’t bother to acknowledge it, though, inside, he was quite enjoying getting the little shit annoyed.

Tim huffed, and lowered the note a bit before commenting. “There are quite a few claims of ghost sightings, but we couldn’t find any proof of them when we took a look at Amity while searching for a house to rent.” He turned to the computer and started typing something.

“Even then, those reports were not of great importance, mentions of seeing a figure for a couple a seconds in the corner of a room, of a shadow following them around the city, or a pale little kid running around in the cemetery.” Bruce added. “The whole city works around the theme.The biggest school is called Casper High, and most attractions are named after ghost-related puns. We concluded it was, in fact, a tourist trap.”

“So what, the kid is imagining his guardian isn’t human? Making things up to cope with the fact that he is a cannibal? That-”

“Um. Bruce, you might want to see this.” Tim interrupted him.

His eyes were wide, scanning quickly through a webpage. Jason moved close to see the screen, and so did Bruce, standing up from his chair to lean over the back of the sofa. Tim started reading titles while he passed the mouse over them. 

“Octo-Ghost Assists Kindergarten Party and Almost Becomes The Birthday Girl's Pet. First Ghost Attack of the Week in Casper High, Red huntress Captures It Before It Can Disrupt Class. Ghost Known as Lunch Lady Visits Local Restaurant and Asks for a Cooking Battle With the Owner: See the Unexpected Results. Don’t You Miss When Ghosts Would Interrupt Class at Least Once a Day? A ranting blog by Phan_number1. None of this existed when we were checking Amity!”

“How is that even possible? The Batcomputer should have pinged something if there was anything blocking the information,” Bruce says in what sounded like a monotone voice, but any of his kids could tell he’s alarmed by the fact that so much information was successfully hidden from the Batcomputer. “Try sending a link to Babs.”

Tim goes ahead to do that with the ranting blog, but honestly, Jason couldn’t care less if the oh-so-great Batcomputer missed this.

“So the kid isn’t making things up, great. Can you both have your freak-out about the information blockage after we finish reading the note?” If Tim were a super, Jason would have a hole on his front, he’s sure of it.

Babs: Why are you sending me a recipe for making ghost-themed pie?

Tim looks at the message in disbelief, and clicks on the link he had sent. The ranting blog opens, no pie recipe to be seen. Tim takes a screenshot and tries sending it, but a warning message appears, saying the file is corrupted. He tries to send an image of his gallery, it goes without any problems.

“This is weird. It’s not like any kind of blockage we had seen before. It even redirects links to a page that matches the city's theme.”

“Try sending the image through the Bat server.” Bruce says with a voice that it was more serious than Jason expected, which makes him glance back at the man. 

Bruce is glaring at the computer with a dark expression. Realization hits Tim, and he quickly tries to send the image through the Bat server. It goes through, and even Jason feels relieved at the received checkmark. 

“Okay… okay. So they’re monitoring private conversations, but the Bat server is still safe.” Tim murmurs. Then goes ahead and tries sending the link once more, with a message saying it should open the website shown in the image. 

Oracle: All that link opens is the pie recipe Red Robin. If this is some kind of joke, you know the Bat server is not for that.

Tim rolls his eyes at the response and starts writing down a response, explaining the situation to Babs.

“The link must be blocked by IP Address. Tell her to try using a residential proxy.”

“Already on it.”

Jason hates when the old man understands more about technology than he does. Damn his time in the grave. He had been working on getting up to date, and he can do some basic hacking and whatnot. Enough that he doesn’t need external help for every little thing. But he’s still so far behind. 

Oracle: I’m in. You’re also seeing all these things about ghosts?

Red Robin: Yes. 

Red Robin: Somehow they have the city under a blockage that the Batcomputer wasn’t able to detect.

“Okay. Babs can take care of investigating that. We have a note to finish reading, remember?” Jason says, reaching for the paper Tim had left beside the computer, which Tim promptly snatches back. “Hey!”

“You won’t read it outloud for everyone.”

“According to whom!?”

“Kids…” Bruce sighed, “Continue reading, please, Tim.”

The little shit looked smug for a second before going back to the note.

“Please understand that in general ghosts aren’t bad, it’s just Vlad. But ghosts are powerful, and Vlad is really powerful. This can’t be resolved through normal means. I know the Waynes have contact with the Justice League, so I ask you to please get in contact with them, and don’t get anymore involved. I doubt the Justice league is equipped for the type of ghosts we have in Amity park. My friends Samantha Mason and Tucker Foley know where to find specialized weaponry and protective devices. Please, convince the Justice League to go for them first, it would be a disaster if one of the Justice League was overshadowed by Vlad.” That’s where the letter ended.

“Overshadow?” Bruce echoed.

Tim wasted no time putting the word into Google, which, now that Jason noticed, was decorated with little ghosts. Did Amity have its own Google doodle? The definition of the word popped like any other word would, and Jason wondered if that was something else that was blocked outside the city.

“It seems to be how Amity Parkers refer to possession.” Tim said after skimming the definition.

“What do we know about Samantha Mason and Tucker Foley?” Bruce asked, already in work mode.

“Not much, outside of being known friends of Danny. The Masons are a well positioned family in Amity; they’re new money. Izzy Manson, Samantha's great grandfather, invented a machine that twirled cellophane around deli toothpicks, the patent and inheritance placed the family where it is today. Pamela Manson owns a jewelry brand that’s grown in popularity in the Midwestern elite, while Jeremy Manson is a real estate developer. They often attend galas in Wisconsin, and sometimes in other big cities. Samantha Mason is a known teen activist, and has had her fair share of incidents at galas.” Tim said, as he opened the report he had made before coming to Amity.

“Incidents?” Jason asked.

“She has a sharp tongue and doesn’t seem interested in keeping appearances. It’s well known she isn’t fond of the styles her mother gives her for the galas. In any photo she posted on her personal accounts in the last two years, she has a gothic aesthetic.”

“Ah.”

“There’s less about Tucker Foley. His mother, Angela Foley, works as a chef at a local restaurant called “A Ghost's Secret Recipe.” His father, Maurice Foley, is an IT technician for the city government. Tucker seems to take after his father in his interest in technology, and has a history of winning local programming contests.”

“There’s nothing that really screams “I know how to fight ghosts and have ghost weaponry” is there?” Jason comments.

“Well, this is the information we have while searching with the city's information being blocked. Search for Daniel Fenton on the web,” Bruce says, and when Tim enters the name, a lot of news articles come to light. “We should have suspected something when there weren’t a lot of news articles talking about an explosion taking the life of a whole family.” Tim nods to that.

Jason frowns at the screen. “Are you seeing these titles? Local ghost hunters die from mysterious explosions? Something tells me that the access to weaponry has more to do with Danny’s parents than anything about Samantha and Tucker.” 

“What did we have about the Fentons from the investigation in Gotham?”

“They were supposedly part of the tourist industry, “entertaining tourists with street shows about ghost hunting.” We were literally blocked from one of the most important details of Danny’s life.” Tim groaned. 

Bruce sighed. “Let’s try getting some sleep. We’ll try meeting Samantha and Tucker tomorrow in the late afternoon.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Late afternoon?”

“They’re teenagers. I would prefer to interrupt their class time or disturb them too late. They might not even know we plan to meet with them.”

Tim nodded, already starting with the new background check. “I doubt Masters lets Danny have his own phone.”

Jason unceremoniously closed Tims laptop, putting it aside and carrying the kid in a firefighter carry.

“Trying to rest applies to you too.”

Tim protested as he trashed, trying to get him to let go, and if the pretender had actually been serious about it, Jason may have not been able to keep a hold of him.

“I’ll tell Babs to leave the investigation for tomorrow as well. You’ll have time before we go meet Danny’s friends, so let’s rest for some time first, okay?” Bruce said with that voice he always used when he was treating them like little kids. And if Jason found it soothing, that was between his mind and himself.

Tim groans, but relaxes, accepting defeat, and the kid is asleep before Jason even makes it out the living room. Jason wonders, not for the first time, if Tims ability to basically sleep anywhere, anyway, anytime, would go away if the kid actually followed the sleeping schedule Bruce and Alfred tried imposing, instead of taking random naps around the clock. 

He’s sure the little shit will be back in front of the computer in 30 minutes. Whatever. He already did his mandatory older sibling duty by getting him to stop for a nap. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Next part

[thr0wnawayy]

I hate that even with my hiatus on most of my creative projects related to MHA, this fucking series still finds a way to prove my predictions right without fail.

Yk, I thought real hard on what lows would the Comission go to, now that they know they can literally get away with murder. And i got some pretty terrible conclusions, you know... trying to forcibly create another Symbol or Assassin (as Hawks, no matter how good he got, was never able to reach Nagant's level of lethality or that of her predecessor O'Clock (AKA Knuckleduster))

Or allow crime rings to fester, even providing some of them with equipment or funds. Let them run loose for a while, get their names our there & only then swoop in and have whoever the poor child soldier is clear house & take the credit for stopping Snuff or Drug ring number #42.

I mean we're talking about a guy who's idea of what a family is, is so nonexistent that he uses his own neglect to tell Rei's kids "nah it's my fault my mom neglected me, lol" & to keep ties to their abuser. All while Rei herself is in the room, a woman who hasn't seen the outside since she was 26 (if we don't count the decade she was stuck as Enji's broodmare) .

Hawks has no idea how the outside world works or how people work both due to his parents & the HOSC's neglect. I hate to use the clinically outdated term "Sociopath" but that's effectively what Hawks is, he has no care for anything outside himself & his immediate bubble (which only really consists of Endeavor, or rather who he believes Endeavor is). He lacks any remorse or real empathy, he seemingly doesn't feel shame either.

Giving Hawks the position of president is like giving a Chimpanzee a stock-rifle, it's the worst decision the HPSC could have made for various reasons.

seeing this and thinking about hawks continuing the cycle of abuse through the commission genuinely made my stomach drop

[teh-nos]

u know what though... i don't think this facepalming is for the witnesses in the room, but i also don't think it's an "oh no, thor's so stupid" facepalm, i think it's a "why the fuck did i do that?" one. i don't think loki especially wants to invade jotunheim, he just thought it'd be a laugh to get thor to do it, but then oh shit thor is actually going to do that so now he needs to sabotage it somehow (telling the guard) but also:

"shit, i've fucked this up, haven't i?" it seemed like such a good idea two minutes ago. couldn't help himself. wouldn't it be funny if? but now they have to go to fucking jotunheim and he could so easily have just not done that. oops! facepalm time!

[rox-of-iu]

bought "immortal life" as a gift for myself and I'm immediately obsessed

it's stardew valley style farm sim but xianxia (said by someone who never played stardew or farm sims this is guesswork lol)

anyway it's early access now but it will come out as a full game in Jan 2024! and I guess there is a possibility that the price will go up once it's a full game cuz that happens sometimes so if ur interested now is your chance hah (its on sale rn for 11,19€)

[lemongogo]

why do i love the conflict more than anything else . the misery . the incompatibility that spreads like oil slick . wanting so desperately for resolution that never comes . hmmm

[astradyke]

being very truthful i wasn't feeling particularly positive about the trailer for TIT (still bought tix though hi nyc <3) and am holding out hope they do a little more teasing for what this tour is actually about in future videos,

but i cannot deny that this specific frame of it

("we basically raised half of them." - phil)

like very specifically got me? like obviously yes the bit is like, they're our dads i started watching them age twelve et cetera but. i don't know. with the way all of this is laid out, the contrasting colors that blend together and the silhouettes on their respective sides (as we always view them, dan to the left & phil to the right) and the screens, it says so loudly like... it's dan and phil, side by side. it's the two of them. it's been them for the last fifteen years.

it's a we, it's a testament that this kinda sacred thing of 'dan and phil' has lasted a really long time, and survived a hiatus, solely because dan and phil themselves have known each other and existed alongside each other for those fifteen years. and yes, obviously, this trailer is all scripted, but this exchange still has this feeling of it being about them, not just their brand together-- they aren't really talking to the audience, here, are they? it wasn't solely 'dan and phil' content that raised the audience; dan and phil did. (maybe a redundant point, but i am working off of the negative space here. a lot of this feels like intertwining themselves with their online personas, and simultaneously walking that line. letting us see only what they want to be shown, and now examining that introspectively).

i hope that makes sense, i'm not much of an analyst or theorist. i don't know what the dan and phil renaissance really is yet, and i am a bit afraid of it all, but i'm really excited, both for everything that's to come but also -- more importantly -- i'm just fucking excited for them.

for this bond between them and the phandom to blossom in the healthy ways it has been lately, for the opening of new doors amidst this phan renaissance... and for them to take back what the internet took from them.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Janeway in 'Nothing Human' vs Tuvok in 'Resolutions' There's something here I know there is I can almost wrap my teeth around it.